tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38782205432227998382024-03-13T20:24:55.226-07:00Exploring the JourneyA place where I used to talk about my job as an archaeologist... now it's a little bit of everything.The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.comBlogger215125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-88758426990459449342020-06-30T02:23:00.006-07:002020-07-01T02:41:36.953-07:00Just another reason I'm an outcast<div>It's the end of yet another Pride month, another year has past, and another time when I've thought, it's not my time to tell my story. Not my time to "come out". Well, maybe I should anyway. Is there really ever a "good time" for anything that may come back to bite you in the ass? No. So hello internet, it's me. What, you didn't know I was in a closet? Neither did I.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-c8mxclGoukn_FBjgx7UGW5hnizLva5q7fJuz7ldJInbEFS456njNNWuPfvU3xY68U3R21k9khvLoX1YICWXe8LUsX6Z7ysd3t1U_-IIeMzNDILO9XGgL_qQeuMAw-YSaJUBPcZ65attG/s425/9515242_0.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-c8mxclGoukn_FBjgx7UGW5hnizLva5q7fJuz7ldJInbEFS456njNNWuPfvU3xY68U3R21k9khvLoX1YICWXe8LUsX6Z7ysd3t1U_-IIeMzNDILO9XGgL_qQeuMAw-YSaJUBPcZ65attG/s320/9515242_0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I finally figured out that I am asexual... about 2-3 years ago. I'm 42... and a half. I didn't know what asexuality was until about maybe 5 years ago. I never learned about it in school. Come to find out asexuality was still considered a mental disorder up
until 2013 by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders
(DSM) published by the American Psychiatric Association. Dang. It was never talked about in any of my social circles. I never knew there was an actual scientific sexual orientation that I actually identify with. Look at me, look at me, I fit into a box! It's a tiny box. Only 1% of the entire worlds population are asexual. 1. One. ONE PERCENT. It's a tiny box, but if I fits, I sits.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now coming out as Ace, as we call ourselves apparently, is no real big deal. I doubt I will be persecuted in any way for being Ace. We're known as the invisible orientation. We blend in. We are a small group. Majority of people don't even know we exist. I didn't for a very long time, see above. I see all these young people on social media being proud ace's and I'm so jealous. They know what they are. I knew who I was as a teen and young adult, don't get me wrong, but I thought I was somehow just so awkward and weird, and that I wasn't worthy or deserving of a "partner" was why I was 99% of my life single. I thought there was something wrong with me. God bless the internet.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>These kids know there is nothing wrong with them. They're just ace. And eat cake.</div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, let me explain, in case you are ignorant like I was.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejjc8uhiZe_Z1Thx5Kq-7TwWUFMcwSAj4w4M3-few7B1p7CdN2FlbL_rqfYOHdJKV8pdaEjT8nMl8KUFqgo_DCH5r4JtuqnV9Yuujb3MD_v3NeP9sdn3SUAMDb0dfyiMsnYuKAM-Y02Yv/s1874/Screen+Shot+2020-06-29+at+12.53.53+AM.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1874" data-original-width="1782" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejjc8uhiZe_Z1Thx5Kq-7TwWUFMcwSAj4w4M3-few7B1p7CdN2FlbL_rqfYOHdJKV8pdaEjT8nMl8KUFqgo_DCH5r4JtuqnV9Yuujb3MD_v3NeP9sdn3SUAMDb0dfyiMsnYuKAM-Y02Yv/w380-h400/Screen+Shot+2020-06-29+at+12.53.53+AM.png" width="380" /></a></div>What does asexual even mean? <span>Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction to others, or low or
absent interest in or desire for sexual activity. It may be considered a
sexual orientation or the lack thereof. It may also be categorized more
widely to include a broad spectrum of asexual sub-identities. These sub-identities are wide ranging from aromantics, grey-sexual, and demi-sexual, and can be across all spectrum's within the LGBTQ. You can be a gay ace, a lesbian ace, a trans ace, bi ace, or like me, a hetero ace, etc.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>From here down, this is my life and experiences with being ace. Like stated above, there is a wide range of ace-ness, and this is just mine. So growing up in a christian religion that taught sex before marriage was a sin, I had no problem with abstinence. I had no desire. It just wasn't there. I thought, geez people it's not that hard, why you getting std's and making babies? I didn't realize I was wired differently then. Well, I thought I was to socially awkward to even attempt dating. I didn't realize I didn't want to date was because I just didn't want to. I never dreamed about getting married. Never wanted to have children. I don't have a biological clock. If given the option of sex or cake, I'll take the cake every time.<br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIBScMEhEyqQGPcXGVJ45MpV18vn0bNDhKgKNVxJbZGKVcbNzja57VKFtgiyNK3BKLQnc9IfZmSuwi_Av0wW2IhdNBhJItMbP8DiQV-YfpFCgDrABwY1iTh7JXlreHbAFXaEaGlCIeVP2/s640/Cake.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIBScMEhEyqQGPcXGVJ45MpV18vn0bNDhKgKNVxJbZGKVcbNzja57VKFtgiyNK3BKLQnc9IfZmSuwi_Av0wW2IhdNBhJItMbP8DiQV-YfpFCgDrABwY1iTh7JXlreHbAFXaEaGlCIeVP2/s320/Cake.jpg" /></a></div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Ace's don't desire or even need sexual (and in aro's, romantic) relationships to feel whole or fullfilled or complete. And so in my youth and early 20's I even questioned whether or not I was even a heterosexual. Maybe I am lesbian? I obviously don't feel sexual attraction to guys. Maybe I like girls? No. I don't. I feel even less sexual attraction to women, if that's even possible. <br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I've had a total of two boyfriends. I'm 42, remember? Two. And I don't even think the first one should even count because we were in the 5th grade, and all we did was hold hands a few times and hang out at recess together and make fun of his best friend. The other one was in college. And I had to be told, quite bluntly, by several friends, that he was interested in me. And I tried so hard to be like hey look at me, I'm normal, see? Look I have a boyfriend, I'm not gay (yes I'm calling out my own ignorance here). I'm not weird. Look, I'm normal. I'M NORMAL! But dang was that hard. I had that one boyfriend for two years and that second year was spent in misery because I was too scared to break it off. Not scared for my safety or anything like that but I didn't think I had a legitimate reason. Oh younger me, if I had only known then that you don't need a reason at all. Looking back now, I can see why the entire relationship was so hard and all my flawed thinking. But I didn't know. I do now. And understanding and learning what my sexual orientation actually is is so liberating.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>It was very similar to the feeling when I was medically diagnosed with depression. I knew I had it, but the validation from several medical professionals was freeing. A weight was lifted off my shoulders. I knew what I had, for realsies. Same with realizing I'm ace. My life made so much more sense.<br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVlIJAeTlcO6XMJcTjWCI8ETq0uWnY-XDCjG30mpjd4XaIRCK4cRlDtJw3_LT3NqmUu6-2KJNUjv0JCzcdVoRiBB42uf90wjlpAMChpgZF1EQAwVHUBAiI-IgUqxsfYd3R6VySdTEjw8a/s288/not+broken.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVlIJAeTlcO6XMJcTjWCI8ETq0uWnY-XDCjG30mpjd4XaIRCK4cRlDtJw3_LT3NqmUu6-2KJNUjv0JCzcdVoRiBB42uf90wjlpAMChpgZF1EQAwVHUBAiI-IgUqxsfYd3R6VySdTEjw8a/" /></a></div>I'm not a freak for loving the fact that I'm alone. Ace's fill their needs for social human connections just like everyone else. We have friends. We just don't need friends with benefits. And no, it's not a hormone imbalance. It's not a fear of sexual intercourse. No, it's not painful to have sex. And no, it's not from a sexual trauma. It's not a condition. It is a valid, normal sexual orientation.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>What I and other ace's get tired of is everyone else. Our society is extremely sexualized. You all are obsessed with it. It's everywhere. It's how most products are advertised. Sex sells. Isn't that the saying? Just watch any commercial or print ad. How are they selling the product? Wear this, buy this, drive this, eat this and whatever sexual orientation you're into will fall at your feet. Even products that don't push sex down our throats are still advocating or insinuating generally the heteronormative sexual lifestyle. And by that I mean, if it isn't selling you sex, it is selling you a sexual partner, marriage, a family with kids. If you're renting or buying a place to live and you're single, it is presumed it's a bachelor pad, temporary, until you meet your significant other. <br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>You know what we really hate? The "Oh you just haven't met the right person yet". Pity. We hate pity. So sorry you're still single. Please. You have no idea how happy I am that I don't have to deal with any of that shit. You all are like, oh my god, I'm so sorry, you haven't had sex in how many days? Uh, try decades. I love the fact that I don't have to share a bed. I love that I don't have to depend on or be depended on for any type of sexual or romantic adoration, need, or desire.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>But sex is everywhere in our culture. 99.9% of TV, movies, and even literature is sexual. If the two lead characters aren't together it's either because there is some sort of angst or they have other partners. All the supporting characters have partners or desire partners. If they are single, it's not because they are ace, it's because they have some sort of "flaw" that prevents them from having a sexual partner. I always found it so alien to me why characters were hooking up when they do in media. Why are they having sex right now? I don't get it. They haven't even solved the murder yet. They just met like 20 minutes ago! Now I get that it's just how you 99% think all the time. Do you not find it exhausting thinking about sex all the time? I mean, give it a rest.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZfFnwCPIHbOqIKNNnD1T_tw667oEV9tp2ZScMm9gAVv1hZctShyphenhyphenyuADmZIzLgHBxVrGASK7fUok20nc4mGVFYYzmb7zWAlT3Q9-ieFLcG6Bwsbkza407x0M0StYybGpj6HGwIdcsTMu4/s420/plants.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirZfFnwCPIHbOqIKNNnD1T_tw667oEV9tp2ZScMm9gAVv1hZctShyphenhyphenyuADmZIzLgHBxVrGASK7fUok20nc4mGVFYYzmb7zWAlT3Q9-ieFLcG6Bwsbkza407x0M0StYybGpj6HGwIdcsTMu4/s320/plants.png" width="320" /></a></div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>I'm happy that I am single. My life is fulfilled. I am a complete human. I never understood the "not a full person without your other half" thing. Like I'm somehow not a fully fleshed person unless I have a sexual or romantic partner. Screw that. <br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Now don't get me wrong, I can and do enjoy tv, movies, and books with sex and romance. It's been streamed into my eye holes forever. That is again 99% of all media. I mean seriously, how many books have you read or shows have you watched that had an ace lead character? Hell even an ace secondary character? I'll wait...<br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>And before you ask me way to personal questions and you're actually interested in what I just said. Start here:</span></div><div><span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9tSal4YyII" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9tSal4YyII</a><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Then we can have some conversations.<br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Last thing, the "A" in LGBTQIA doesn't stand for "ally". It stands for me.<br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>So this socially awkward, middle aged, crazy cat lady is trying to wear her scarlet letter with Pride. Step one: step out of the closet and say hello.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Hello<br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Another video you may find interesting and entertaining is Anthony Padilla's series called "I spent a day with" <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zW29J3nxjis" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zW29J3nxjis</a><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><br /></span></div>The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-86945739184582898132020-06-15T00:27:00.002-07:002020-06-15T00:27:47.236-07:00Wait, what?<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71hE1ikdsfNkWWCJzJJuAQqlmLAn8YphPb9oEY6gZ8O1xS_fwr-5KMxMHAzNWs__b8I1HtNTmuU8e2o4P61Rd5D-G9ycpTXoHKvP2jyuIIM529AerVab3sJPDUlPBBUQKGjQccrKnnqPk/s500/ForsakenColorfulJapanesebeetle-size_restricted.gif" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg71hE1ikdsfNkWWCJzJJuAQqlmLAn8YphPb9oEY6gZ8O1xS_fwr-5KMxMHAzNWs__b8I1HtNTmuU8e2o4P61Rd5D-G9ycpTXoHKvP2jyuIIM529AerVab3sJPDUlPBBUQKGjQccrKnnqPk/s320/ForsakenColorfulJapanesebeetle-size_restricted.gif" width="320" /></a></div>As you can see I'm not consistent here. I do have ideas, but I never take the time to write them out. Mostly because I know that it will take time and effort and these days I just don't have the patience. Or maybe don't even have the desire. But when I do actually write something meaningful, at least meaningful to me, I feel better. But just like I know that I will feel better after I go for a run, doesn't mean I'll go and actually do it. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I don't even have the patience for watching tv shows or movies. There's a ton of shows and movies that I just sit here and scroll through and just say, eh, I don't feel like sitting here to watch something that's 45 minutes to 2 hours. I can't even read a book. And I love books. How did my attention span shrink so much in like two years time?</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwiS4IL7CTxJfAHDD6ANzSd9As9f7CAgV20Mi3yFYAbHtWf5-9J4HQ8dpqW5kTf_Gk4-8hoJc5QRwmLDnJvEeABIZR1peGdrUnSzU0UtaQI7Rq3vDKs5mnb13V7Q3UXJ4zmUyJ6DxrwiL/s480/giphy.gif" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGwiS4IL7CTxJfAHDD6ANzSd9As9f7CAgV20Mi3yFYAbHtWf5-9J4HQ8dpqW5kTf_Gk4-8hoJc5QRwmLDnJvEeABIZR1peGdrUnSzU0UtaQI7Rq3vDKs5mnb13V7Q3UXJ4zmUyJ6DxrwiL/s320/giphy.gif" width="320" /></a></div>I do watch a ton of YouTube though. I'm on there almost every day. The other day I was watching an interview of Neil deGrasse Tyson. And he said something truly profound to me. He said "Create meaning. Don't spend your life searching for meaning". Those likely weren't his exact words but that is what I paused the video and typed into the notes on my phone. I, along with so many of my generation struggle with is finding purpose and meaning to our lives. Always asking what's the point? Why? What is my purpose? What am I meant to do? Those questions and many like them constantly run through our brains like its an infinity loop. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Stop searching. Make it yourself. That's hard to do. I also recently took the survey to get sorted into a Hogworts House on the Pottermore site. And I got very upset that I was placed in Gryffindor. But there were so many answer options to questions that none fit. So I still think I'm in Ravenclaw.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B3LNqBPqA8jAVlCRzid6J6nLRxD63nCtsK6vzNQ4noJugY5bEhRW8bsqdFvNH-kt31zbLy1Dr02N2v4uSFMSAMpTOIbrR9HOYOWMx6KdadZZfiHPdeme0p_ZNGju0OP4qfQYfxDX5h1e/s540/19512943.gif" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="304" data-original-width="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B3LNqBPqA8jAVlCRzid6J6nLRxD63nCtsK6vzNQ4noJugY5bEhRW8bsqdFvNH-kt31zbLy1Dr02N2v4uSFMSAMpTOIbrR9HOYOWMx6KdadZZfiHPdeme0p_ZNGju0OP4qfQYfxDX5h1e/s320/19512943.gif" width="320" /></a></div>Then today I watched a video on the differences between INFJ and INFP from the Myers Briggs personality thing (yes I know it's flawed). And I never could figure out which of the two I fit into and thought "hey, this video may actually tell me" but nope there were like six points and I fell evenly three on one side and three on the other. No wonder I'm so confused all the time.</div><div><br /></div><div>Constantly searching for purpose and meaning and never fitting in to any one group anywhere. Not at school, not into particular personalities, zodiac signs, or even Hogworts.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm just a middle-aged adult baby, lost at sea with one paddle stuck to one side of the boat so all I can do is go in circles.</div><div><br /></div><div>There's a Twenty One Pilots song about this. Of course there is. But I won't nerd out on you about it here.</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwTQg5zYaHpLDQdRtcLvGzRo8TmOcTl6DNuwUlg7v2vMjeGxOpQDFIfcJzaktPH1TKov0Z2xittYhmR67042VnUK2-7hqyXhN4iJGN2Osrkv71o-DrCMAoGjpl1FCn8yGuil6prTaXiXEC/s500/tumblr_mqcnm14GA41roc1qao1_500.gif" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwTQg5zYaHpLDQdRtcLvGzRo8TmOcTl6DNuwUlg7v2vMjeGxOpQDFIfcJzaktPH1TKov0Z2xittYhmR67042VnUK2-7hqyXhN4iJGN2Osrkv71o-DrCMAoGjpl1FCn8yGuil6prTaXiXEC/s320/tumblr_mqcnm14GA41roc1qao1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></div>I'll just be in my little one paddle boat trying to figure out how to stop the infinity loop of my life and start living my meaning, my purpose, my creativity. Now where to find it...<br /></div>The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-79352517986354888102020-05-31T19:06:00.002-07:002020-05-31T19:06:37.242-07:00My little Sweat Pea<div>I don't know why I didn't post this. I had actually forgotten I had written it when I did. So I guess I should polish it up and send it out to my little world. I wrote it way back in January.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuejfZh7psL5fhubbB7wkzDRY3pbTyboAzVoVwQCjTHeruvs7ubLThVAhuxyy_MFuSCdB0R3KhbnXNwNVnh-FsgbYxCr86v-mchZYqm85jjkwVfPm5iJ2Ey7a062T_cVCIWtylof8T_G2_/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuejfZh7psL5fhubbB7wkzDRY3pbTyboAzVoVwQCjTHeruvs7ubLThVAhuxyy_MFuSCdB0R3KhbnXNwNVnh-FsgbYxCr86v-mchZYqm85jjkwVfPm5iJ2Ey7a062T_cVCIWtylof8T_G2_/s320/IMG_1743.jpeg" /></a></div><br />I didn't think I was going to loose her later that day when I and my dad took Miss Grace to the Emergency Vet. I thought they would figure it out, give a shot or something, or say it will pass and she'll get better over time. I really did. Instead I spent over $800.00 for tests, blood work, and ultrasounds that didn't answer the questions I had and as the day went on, the weaker she became. She wasn't going to get better. There was no miracle shot. There was only the realization that my cat was dying... quickly. And so after all the tests were done and the results were given to me, I decided I needed to say goodbye and end her life with dignity. It was not fair to her to make her live the last few hours or days it would have taken for her to die naturally in a state of fear and anxiety. The doctor assured me she was not in physical pain, but still. That's no way to live.</div><div><br /></div>
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEN8J0yIY5urFauOYFtvzpyIJoQDkn-gyKcGpj5q4yEEeBc8t1xy3k_OJU32tTwB07AR-VTC3sS14is5ZgTUdyjA4pdcLEEeL_-R4dr-oY7XFnz1VUZPPk9b_N44l55fQFEYhwLLupjfPG/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEN8J0yIY5urFauOYFtvzpyIJoQDkn-gyKcGpj5q4yEEeBc8t1xy3k_OJU32tTwB07AR-VTC3sS14is5ZgTUdyjA4pdcLEEeL_-R4dr-oY7XFnz1VUZPPk9b_N44l55fQFEYhwLLupjfPG/s320/IMG_3383.jpg" /></a></div>
I had a thought after her death later that night after I brought her home and we buried her in the backyard. That she died very much like her OG human, my mom.<br />
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My mom knew she was going to die that day and had the night nurse call my dad who then called us and we all went to her. Within 24 hours of my mom telling the nurse to call her family, she was gone. And just like my mom, within 24 hours of Grace's first symptoms, she was gone.</div><div><br /></div>
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Miss Grace was 14 and a half years old. In cat years, she was an old lady. I often called her a cranky old lady. She often looked cranky or perturbed. Her adopted brother would annoy her and pester her. So she would return his annoyance and pestering with hisses, growls, and very sharp claws to the head. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGjVBRn7k60DC8USWTkGM707wsDkaaR4vmEZgznxKU2jMA1Jd2410Hft9r9AMWOzn4jA7H6ddzSqYFKMvVL24OYX9xCDsFUzih_rQoDFbtbDCzWkkE-CJ5zU8tbYtMHX7xgiCt8AMmsBq/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGjVBRn7k60DC8USWTkGM707wsDkaaR4vmEZgznxKU2jMA1Jd2410Hft9r9AMWOzn4jA7H6ddzSqYFKMvVL24OYX9xCDsFUzih_rQoDFbtbDCzWkkE-CJ5zU8tbYtMHX7xgiCt8AMmsBq/s320/IMG_0930.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
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It was never figured out what was killing Miss Grace. But there was swelling in her brain which caused her almost complete and sudden blindness. Was it just swelling? Or more likely I think, a growth or tumor in her brain that finally grew to a point that messed with her nervous system and such in her brain. Because she wasn't just suddenly blind, she was also confused, disoriented, and felt like to me that she didn't know who I was either. She didn't know who her adopted brother was.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEK__d3hM5n-BOoFvnlHDrcu-rpXyI7W6oKzpcmWW4VDsCQ0EhRNnuZUJawlbmTuftRMGOiQmzpkvPnDy-Gkw6s3gFwItiGZXfKmJFXZ25qpkGddJpebLZm9voShVKwFBkUqf5LVvAynq/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhEK__d3hM5n-BOoFvnlHDrcu-rpXyI7W6oKzpcmWW4VDsCQ0EhRNnuZUJawlbmTuftRMGOiQmzpkvPnDy-Gkw6s3gFwItiGZXfKmJFXZ25qpkGddJpebLZm9voShVKwFBkUqf5LVvAynq/s320/IMG_1871.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
We'll never know. She wouldn't have lived long enough for the MRI to be done, which would have been the next thing.<br />
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But also like my mom, when I went back to see her to say goodbye and the tech brought her to me, I could see that indeed she wasn't in physical pain, but she was also no longer there. The Grace I knew was gone already and just a shell was left. My mom was gone before her body stopped working.<br />
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Seemed almost fitting that Miss Grace and her OG Human before her, both left this world similarly. Painless, peacefully, and quickly.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKquEQ9z-3_dl4NfAUHI8QnPmyTdfIANk_nvBnryLnk2gwhE8x40WgjUAXj9wN_EqhxxLeQxrpcBAuPjR_RumagTGIbqn5igk5-aVMltdhEJ6cIkmIt_rOXtTFhze_Y22rjAb-YkxtvA4v/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKquEQ9z-3_dl4NfAUHI8QnPmyTdfIANk_nvBnryLnk2gwhE8x40WgjUAXj9wN_EqhxxLeQxrpcBAuPjR_RumagTGIbqn5igk5-aVMltdhEJ6cIkmIt_rOXtTFhze_Y22rjAb-YkxtvA4v/s320/IMG_3070.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>Miss Grace died January 26th, 2020.</div><div><br /></div><div>It took Mr. Quirk, her annoying adopted brother a few weeks to mourn her. He really did miss her. He would search the entire house looking for her. And a few months for him to adjust to being the only cat in the family. I realized that for as long as I had Mr. Quirk, he was never the only cat until now. I adopted Quirk with his gay lover Tom. And when Tom died, I moved Quirk to Grace's abode (my parents house). <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I do miss her on occasion and I am glad and thankful I still have Mr. Quirk in my life. I am a crazy cat lady. I have embraced this fact of life, and am a better human for it.<br /></div>The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-8726960717549547482019-11-13T02:10:00.001-08:002019-11-13T02:10:39.895-08:00My Coming Out StoryHappy Pride month!!!! Oh right, that was a while ago. Quite a while ago. And I'm not gay. Yes I know I dress myself in a very stereotypical lesbian way. It's comfortable, dammit. But I did learn that technically I am part of the LGBTQ+ community (I'll give you a hint, I'm one of the +'s. Also let's be honest, there are sooooooo many letters now, I'm fine being a +. Also also, it's positive. ahah hah hah yeah...*cough*). There's even a flag, just for me. <br />
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But this isn't about a sexuality or gender coming out story. It's a religious one.<br />
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Ready...<br />
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*cough*<br />
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So uh... I'm not religious. *gasp* No. How could you. How dare you.<br />
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Yup, I said it.<br />
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If you're a reader of mine, or know me personally, like, for realsies, then you would know that I've been dabbling in the dark arts. As in (insert movie trailer guy voice) a world in which I choose to live and dictate what I want and need to believe in. And sorry to everyone who helped raise me to be that good Christian girl, but now that I'm middle aged, I have the guts to rebel, I will. And say, uh no. I don't believe in that god, or that other god, or that one over there either.<br />
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Besides all my aunts and uncles with whom I don't have a strong interpersonal relationship with, through no fault of their own mind you, all of my familiar elders have passed, except my dad (he's a cool dude). My mom and all four (and a half) grandparents are gone. So in a sense, there is less guilt to be felt because there are less people to disappoint.<br />
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This idea of "coming out" came to me because of a YouTuber I occasionally watch asked his viewers a particular question. A very important question. One that everyone should know the answer to. And one that sometimes takes many many years to figure out. Took me 20+ some years. Some never do. Some never ask the question of themselves. But what I noticed was, was that no one really answered. Only one did, and it was very superficial and quick. I only looked at the comments about 4-5 hours after he uploaded so perhaps there are answers now. Maybe I'll go back and check before posting... Maybe not. Yeah, nope. But also in their defense... that's a hard question to answer short and succinctly. I'm using this post and look how long it is. Just look! Scroll back up now. Scroll back up!<br />
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I wanted to comment. But I couldn't say what I wanted to say in just a comment section of a YouTube video that would ultimately get lost in the thousands that this particular YouTuber gets. Perhaps he'd see it, perhaps not. But I very well can't write an essay on my life experiences and questions I've been asking myself and figuring out since I was a pimply awkward bumbling teenager in a YouTube comment now can I. But I can here. Yay.<br />
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What's the question, you ask? (or not) Well, it has to do with the lyrics of a particular song by a particular band that I happen to have become a sort of groupie of. And I can honestly say groupie now because I really did follow them to another country, so yeah. I've seen them three times this year now, and will once more in December. Yeah, total groupie.<br />
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The song: The Hype<br />
The band: Twenty One Pilots<br />
The basic gist: There are internal and external pressures on us all, and it's both a "I wish someone had told me to believe in myself and my dreams when I was younger" and don't believe in your own hype. It's an encouragement to keep going and a cautionary warning to also let things go that need to be let go.<br />
The lyric: No, I don't know which way I'm going/ But I can hear my way around.<br />
The question: What or who do you hear? <br />
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So after thinking about this question and how I would answer it, it forced me to confront myself and made me put my workout clothes on and go for a run. Because part of answering that question is doing what I need to do to answer that question. That doesn't make any sense does it. The act of going on a run is part of the answer. And while on this run I thought about it some more and basically wrote this whole thing out... in my head... and then lost most of it because I didn't want to sit down and take the time to even outline it.<br />
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Butt, one of the points was this. I grew up in the church. I lived it. Breathed it. Drank the kool-aid. I believed it. All of it. With every fiber of my being. I took my bible to school. I highlighted scripture. I wrote in the margins. I wrote religious poetry. I wrote religious songs. I was in the religious scouting program, went to Christian summer camps, I was a member of the worship team, church musicals, went to the whole U.S. youth conference, joined the christian club in high school, did the pray at the flag pole thing, even went on a mission trip. I wore a cross necklace, wrote "Jesus Saves" on my backpack, had a "rapture" license plate thingy on my car. I tithed. I had all the cool christian rock CD's. Even went to a Michael W. Smith concert. I was in his fan club!!!!!! Oh my this is getting embarrassing.<br />
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All that to say, because I grew up in that environment. It was my world. All my family was part of it and therefore all my friends and family friends were/are of the same religion. So when I finally had the guts to stop going to church, I felt extremely guilty. Like I had failed them all. I let them all down. I thought that there must be something wrong with me. Why didn't I ever feel like they said I should. I never felt "the lord" move me. Or feel a presence. Or ever feel that when I prayed, I was heard by anyone, let alone some supreme being. I never felt comfortable. Never liked the rules, guidelines, or expectations. Didn't believe everything that came down from the pulpit. I took issue with what was being preached and taught sometimes. But like the people pleaser I am, I never spoke up and just hugged the walls like a good wallflower and stuck it out.<br />
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And I feel like, just like LGBTQ+ people feel like they have to "come out" in our hetero-normative culture, I too have to "come out" to my religious friends and family, so that I can be my true and authentic self.<br />
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Crying to god, pleading, asking for guidance, reassurance, forgiveness, strength during the dark or painful times or rejoicing, celebrating, praising during the good never felt true or right or work for me. And it wasn't through a lack of trying. I studied. I began asking questions. I asked god why I doubt him. Why can't I accept him? Why don't I believe? Where is my faith? What is wrong with me? You're god, fix it. Fix me. Why won't you fix me?<br />
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But again, I never felt at home in a church. Any church. I went to different denominations, Catholic mass, charismatics, I tried Buddhism, went to a Hindu temple. They were not comfortable places for me. I didn't feel safe or contentment or any sense of belonging or "finding my people". None of the religious faiths, belief systems or constructs, philosophies, or teachings called to me or made sense to me on an intellectual, emotional, or spiritual level, to where I would say, Yes. This is my faith. This is what I believe. This is my religion.<br />
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This is just me and my story. My experience. I see nothing wrong with anyone believing in a god, making religion an important part of their life. If it works for you, and you truly believe and that truly helps you navigate this blue ball we all live on, then great! I'm glad. You found something you can latch on to. A foundation. For many, religion, spirituality, the belief in god is the answer to that question. Who am I to say there isn't a god, there isn't an afterlife, there is no heaven. I'm no expert. I'm still figuring this out. I'm not done asking questions. Remember though, this goes both ways. I have no right to tell you you're wrong to believe and practice what you believe and you have no right to tell me that not believing in your chosen religion is wrong either.<br />
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So what about those of us who don't have religion as a foundation stone? Are we lost to the winds? Hopeless? Just bumbling stupidly through life? No. Wait, aren't we all bumbling stupidly through life? It was always taught, at least in the church I grew up in, that we are all lost until we come to god and accept him into our hearts and becomes our lord and savior. So going to a non-believer or an ex-believer and telling them they are lost without god, to me is just so wrong on so many levels. But I won't get into that here.<br />
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So what do I hear to find my way around? Short answer: everything and nothing. Long answer: In my darkest moments when I realize I'm in a place I shouldn't be and need to leave, I have several tools. I turn introspective/inward. I can calm my mind and focus on a single voice (the one I like to call the quiet one). That one, that part of my mind is good. And I know it is good. I can focus on it. I know that turning external things off helps to calm. I find strength in the world around me. I will go to the ocean. I will go to the forest. I will go outside to some type of nature, some part of the natural world. That grounds me. I can recharge out there. I have a few people I can talk to, if that's what I need. And I have music. I have certain playlists that I can use to guide me. Certain bands, certain albums, certain songs, genres, styles, rhythms, beats, etc. Music with certain instruments, voices, or beats per minute can and does have a huge impact on me. And of course writing. This is my outlet, my catharsis. So what do I hear in the dark? I hear myself speaking to me, guiding me. I hear music. I hear the waves. I hear the wind blowing through the trees, over the grass. I hear my heart beating in my chest. I even hear the purring of my cats. And I hear nothing. Just quiet. Getting to the quiet is often the first step. Shutting all the external and internal things and alarms off. Focusing. And listening for the nothing. The quiet. Then and only then can I begin to hear what I need to hear.<br />
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Within the bands mythos, Tyler's inner voices could be the nine bishops and Nico/Blurryface could be his loudest and darkest voice. Who knows. His brain is very weird and complicated and we as listeners only get a glimpse of the inner mechanations of his brain. Many people (I used to be one of them) interpret the many voices as representations of god in that god is one of the voices, another is yourself, and maybe another as the devil. And which you choose to listen to is your choice/free will kind of thing. I'm not sure I have nine different voices. Maybe Tyler doesn't either. I don't know. But in a way it makes sense within the story the band is telling currently. He just has strange names for them. I just call mine the quiet one, or the loud one, or the mean one, etc.<br />
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Tyler's good at compartmentalizing. It's a very male brain thing. Everything has a spot, a compartment, a box. Everything has a place. And it is very organized and structured. I like to think that I too have compartments, but in reality it is more of an open concept mindscape in there.<br />
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So yeah. This has been gathering dust in my drafts folder for five months now. When I first started writing this, I thought I would send a link to the YouTuber, but then changed my mind. Why? Because I sussed out where he actually works as his day job/nine to five/real job. And I lost a bit of respect I had for him. I didn't always agree with what he was serving up on his channel, but this was a blow. Then I stewed on it for a while and time passed... okay a lot of time. <br />
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And just like Levar Burton always says in Reading Rainbow, "but you don't have to take my word for it".<br />
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I can't judge him for where he works even though I hate what that institution stands for and promotes. He may be trying to change it for the better by being there. I don't know. I don't know him. I only know what he shares in his videos. I mean, I work for a company that does environmental compliance work on oil and gas pipelines, and I hate oil and gas pipelines. I think they are not needed (new ones), are extremely hazardous to the environment and our cultural history. It's a fuel source that is dirty and should be phased out, not upgraded and promoted. But I know that no matter what, those lines will be built and the earth and culture destroyed, so it might as well be done by a company I know will do its best to mitigate and preserve what it can. Still hate it though, and still hate who this person works for too. But this is a lesson in humility and not knowing a persons true heart and desires and purpose and what they hope to accomplish within said institution and in life.<br />
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Still probably won't link this to him. More so because that video where he asked that question is ancient now in YouTube time. And everyone has already forgotten or moved on to newer, fresher content. Consume, consume, consume. And it takes me apparently five months to finish a freaking post now! <br />
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Here's something interesting. The band recently released a re-imagined version of this song and they changed that lyric line slightly. "No, I don't know which way I'm goin/ But I can hear the way, yeah." So does that alter the meaning of the song at all? Ehhhhhhhhh, naw. It's almost even more poignant or affirming. Like instead of stumbling around trying to listen, he can hear clearly now and can navigate safely.<br />
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I hope that was interesting for you. I have some ideas cooking. And maybe I'll be a bit more productive on here as the holiday season kicks into high gear. Because I know my mood will sour, and the mental state will get darker again. And when I'm farther down that hole, I tend to be more loose and forth coming in writing. That's just how depression and creativity works, yo.<br /><br />
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*side/end note: If I scared anyone in my previous post. Sorry. Didn't mean to. I'm fine. Really. I'm just trying to explain and put into words what it's like to live day to day with this disease.<br />
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<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-24685676873967065282019-08-03T16:48:00.000-07:002019-08-09T01:25:13.542-07:00Let's Dig In: Depression Part III (things are getting serious)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This has been sitting, festering in my drafts folder for months. And by months, I mean since May. Yeah, festering. Even the post after this is mostly written... and been festering for... almost one month now. The initial data dump that spewed out the bones of this was easy. The meat? Not so much. But I need this to quit festering. So here we go... It's going to be a little all over the place. Strap in.<br />
<br />
Life
is cyclical. Depression is cyclical. A great analogy for this is The <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_9Kf0D5BTs" target="_blank">HeavyDirtySoul</a> music video by none other than Twenty One Pilots. In it, Tyler is in the back seat of a car, dreaming. In the dream Blurryface (or is it Keons) is
driving and almost runs over Josh repeatedly, who is brought into Tyler's dream and is sitting at his drums in the middle of the road. He's driving in circles.
But with the help of Josh, in that the harder he hits the drums the more the car
falls apart, to the point where it bursts into flames and explodes and
Tyler escapes. Thus defeating Blurryface. Only to realize it was all in
his head, and he's still asleep in the car. It just repeats. It resets.
Even before they made this "official" music video, they made a video for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I5canBXoCyU" target="_blank">HeavyDirtySoul (Circle)</a>. Again, where instead it's a concert that repeats. Every day is a battle to be fought, and every day the sun sets, and
every new day the sun rises. Start over. Now with Trench (the latest album-almost a year old now), the story
continues with the music video trilogy starting with Jumpsuit (which picks up after the car explosion the next day). Either we are still in Tyler's dream and instead of
resetting, the dream continues as he walks away from the burning car and
conceivably into Trench. Or he broke the cycle. And he's no longer
stuck in the car going in circles. He and Josh broke that cycle and are
now on a new journey... in Trench, which is full of circular patterns,
new enemies, old enemies with new names and faces, and new and old
battles. Life continues on, sometimes in circles and other times winding paths.<br />
<br />
There are nine Bishops in Dema (the fictional city in Trench). We know Nico is a dick, and he is talked about quite a bit in the album, and we
know a tiny bit about Keons (not such a dick) through Clancy's letters, but what about the other
Bishops? Will we ever get to learn about them? Interesting aside is that all the Bishops names come from song titles or lyrics from the previous album, Blurryface. Keons: the lyric "cho<b>ke on s</b>moke" from HeavyDirtySoul. Did you know that if you do a google image search for "happiness" the prevailing color is yellow? Hmmmm, those boys were on to something.<br />
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And now to somehow fit the above paragraphs with the ones below. Smoothest transition ever.<br />
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Look at this while I figure this out. Here is JaidenAnimations explaining her anxiety: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbtQp7C1MDs" target="_blank">Anxiety is the Greatest</a><br />
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Cool, now that you watched that and forgot about my not knowing how to connect that previous paragraph to this one, here's the next paragraph. Not sure if it was just my generation or not but it was somehow and pervasively so drilled into us that we needed to find out why we were put on this earth. Our life had to be meaningful, a purpose, and we needed to figure that out and go do it. We couldn’t just have a job and enjoy life as it happened. No. We needed to find our passion. Our purpose in life. The dream job. That one person who would make us complete. And you needed to figure this all out by like the end of high school so you knew which college to go to and what degree to get. Yeah, sure no problem.<br />
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Some people found those things. I didn’t. I don’t know my purpose in life. Why I’m here. What I’m meant to do. I’m technically middle aged now. I should have figured this all out by now. It's probably why my anxiety and depression is worse now as an adult than when I was younger. But what if what was grilled into the psyche of us all was wrong? What if there isn’t a meaning to life. A point? What if we are just too evolved and self aware. What if I’m suppose to just enjoy the planet while I’m on it?<br />
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I wish. But that’s not how my brain works. I need a reason to live. A purpose. I need meaning in my life. Am I saving the world with my job? No. With my donations to organizations? No. With my reusable beverage containers and steel straws? No. Maybe with these things I end up saving a life. But we’re all going to die. Why bother. Maybe my purpose should be to help others. I can’t just sit back and enjoy. My brain won’t let me.<br />
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There are lots of different types of depression.<br />
Traumatic vs non traumatic. PTSD. Survivors guilt. Single event. Multiple event. I haven't suffered a trauma. I don't have PTSD. I haven't gone through a life and death situation where I survived and others did not. I cannot speak of these things as causes because I have not lived them. I know many who have. But I can only speak on what I truly know and have and continue to experience.<br />
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And that is my type. Live with it for life. There’s no cure. It will never go away. You can make plans. Be excited and happy and seeing and socializing with friends and doing all the things you’re supposed to do to help with your depression and taking meds, seeing a therapist, and soaking up sunshine. You can be doing everything right. And still have one dark moment that ends it all. People talk about warning signs. Maybe there are. But many times there aren’t. There’s no predicting a dark moment. There’s a warning siren that goes off in my own head but what if some day it doesn’t. Or I ignore it for too long. There isn’t anything anyone can do. No amount of check ins will stop a single dark moment... that you fight.<br />
<br />
So what am I saying? Maybe my purpose is helping people understand. Most of us who have depression are extremely self aware and know our brains and how they work. Those of you who don’t have depression? You don’t. You don’t understand. You don’t see how suicide can be an answer. I’m not saying it is the right answer. We all hear after a celebrity suicide about how could they? They had all these things, kids, money, fame, spouse, whatever. They were happy. They were going to do this or that the next day, or why didn’t anyone see the signs. Well you know what? That’s not how it works.<br />
<br />
So yeah, I need a reason. A purpose. A meaning. I need a reason to keep listening to that warning siren no matter how many times it goes off. No matter that it will never go away. What’s my purpose? <br />
<br />
I've been excruciatingly slowly loosing weight. Do you know how good it feels to wear new jeans that fit? I can’t fit into my regular ones still but no longer am I in my fat-fat jeans. I’m between. Knowing that I no longer have to wear the fat-fat jeans and buying jeans in a smaller size that fit well is amazing. It’s the little things. I need to remember to celebrate the little things. I went out and bought two new pairs and gave my old two pairs of fat-fat jeans to my sister for her sewing projects. Trying them on in the store was amazing. I imagine it's like what people feel like after amazing sex or something. I wouldn't know. But it was euphoric.<br />
<br />
The internal depression voice says mean things. The mean one says you’re a looser. You won’t amount to anything. You’re a worthless piece of shit. No one loves you and no one ever will. Why do you think you’re still single and alone? No one cares about you. That’s what mine says all the time. Now I know what it tells me is lies. I know that if I put myself out there and focused my time and energy on socializing and all that stuff I could find someone if I wanted. If I wanted. I don't. The constant bombardment of that voice and constantly reminding myself to not listen to it is tiresome. You wonder why people with depression are tired all the time? It’s mentally exhausting let me tell you.<br />
<br />
And now how giving in to the voice just once can end your life. Example 1: Chester (he spoke about it in interviews and such): he was sexually molested as a child and as a teen suffered physical and emotional abuse, bullied relentlessly at school, suffered from anxiety, low self esteem, drugs and alcohol abuse, and depression. You name it he did it or was done to him. To say he survived as long as he did is quite amazing. But all it took was just that one moment of listening to that voice and gone. Example 2: You can have all the things (love, kids, money, a job you love, whatever makes you happy) and one flick of the wrist while driving or as simple as getting up in the middle of the night to go pee and just take all the pills in the bathroom and go back to bed... gone. It can be so simple. So easy. Just think about all the things, people, support certain famous people had. They had the loving families and friends. Took medications. Saw therapists. They did all the things you're suppose to do, and yet... Chester Bennington, Anthony Bourdain, Dolores O'riodan, Chris Cornell, Kate Spade. There were no warning signs. They all had things to do, places to go, they all had plans... to not die. Linkin Park were going to start their European tour two days after Chester killed himself. Dolores was set to record a song the next day. Chris had just finished a concert performance.<br />
<br />
I'm not okay. I'm 41 years old, I should have this figured out by now. Why am I even more messed up now? More depressed. More anxious. More social anxiety. More fearful. Why? Shouldn't I have a better handle on my inner demons? Why are they so much stronger now? Am I weaker? Have I grown so weary of fighting that I can no longer keep up? Am I that tired? Am I that exhausted? That's scary because when people like me get too exhausted and weary of the constant fighting, the more and more alluring it is to just stop and end it, once and for all.<br />
<br />
I'm now the same age as Chester was when he ended it. That epiphany hit me the other day. And honestly I've had a rough go of it lately. I hate July. Nothing personal July, I just hate you. My mom was born in July. She's dead now. She loved celebrating the 4th of July. I hate this holiday now (for multiple reasons, one of which is because my mom loved it and she's gone now so it lost its appeal) (I wonder if I hate Christmas more now because she's gone and it was her favorite) My parents got married in July. It's quite often too hot to enjoy the outdoors. It's one of the busiest months at work. But I can make reasons for why I like or not like any month of the year. It just happens to be July right now, and I hate it.<br />
<br />
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand it's now August. I don't like you either. I'm still here. Still have depression. Going in circles. Pretty sure I'm still stuck in the burning car loop. I'm not sure if this shed any light on what life is like with depression. But damn it, I want this piece of garbage out of the drafts. And quit festering. I got two sick cats to deal with, one of which may be dying.<br />
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But not to leave you on a sour note. I got out of my home office for a day and actually had a nice time out on a survey with co-workers I had never met before and was not nervous or anxious or have any bad thoughts or problems. Go figure. And we all stood there and went, "It's so obvious. Surely it's been recorded before. We should record it anyway. Right? Yes? Yes."<br />
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Let's Dig In Series links: <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-i.html" target="_blank">Religion Part I</a> and <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-ii-where-my.html" target="_blank">Part II </a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/10/listen-to-quiet-ones.html" target="_blank">Depression Part I</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2019/03/lets-dig-in-depression-part-ii-good-bad.html" target="_blank">Depression Part II</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/11/at-it-again-not-quite-addict-with-pen.html" target="_blank">Obsession</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2019/02/lets-dig-in-anxiety-part-i.html" target="_blank">Anxiety Part I</a><br />
<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-15337366773478641472019-05-28T00:57:00.001-07:002019-07-19T02:04:49.864-07:00Attention K-Mart Shoppers, Blue Light Special in Aisle you really should have your shit together by now, where's the cat food<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here's a little something to tie you over till I buck up and get stuff written. I started this well over a year and a half ago now. And it's been sitting in the proverbial death pile known as drafts. I better check the link to make sure it still works. This also ties in to a future post that's partially written. I really have been thinking about this stuff for a while. So on with the oh here's a cool thought that fizzled...<br />
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<br />
I'm technically not a Gen-Xer, Gen-Yer, or a Millennial. <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/2017/06/28/xennials_a_23006562/" target="_blank">This article</a> tried to call my "generation" Xennials. Wha? Stupid. I was born into a micro-generation or as I like to call it, the Original Star Wars Generation (1977-1983). I was a child in the 80's, a teenager in the 90's, and thrust into adulthood in the 00's. I had an analog childhood and a digital youth. Pagers were all the rage in my high school. I remember the first personal computers. We had an Apple IIc with the big floppy disks and an Atari 2600. I was forced into getting my first cell phone in my late 20's.<br />
<br />
I just turned 40 (see, sitting here for well over a year). I feel old now. Because I was born into this strange micro-generation, I don't quite align myself with Gen-Xers or Millennials. I was brought up to be a pessimistic optimist. Sounds ironic. It is. Que Alanis Morrissette. It was believed that we could become anything we wanted. Go to college, get a degree, become millionaires and change the world! But also brought up to realize that Social Security would be depleted by the time we needed it, the environment would be past saving, and the government would collapse, and we'd spend our senior years in a post-apocalyptic hell hole. But dammit, you better amount to something. You better make your mark on the world. You better be or do something important with your life.<br />
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So I was going to be a famous author, or astronaut, or a Ranger (the park kind). I was going to be a somebody. Well, I'm not any of those things. I haven't changed the world by writing something groundbreaking like JK Rowlins or Ta-Nehisi Coates. I didn't spend a year in space like Scott Kelly or sing David Bowie's Space Oddity like Chris Hadfield in the international space station orbiting the big blue orb. And I'm no Betty Reid Soskin, the oldest National Park Service Ranger.<br />
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I've always felt that I'm an extra human taking up space on the planet. The third child. Not the heir, not even the spare. I'm the oops. The "well that answers the question of do you want to have another"? I didn't marry. I didn't have kids. I never wanted to populate the world with more of me. Is this what a midlife crisis feels like? Is that what I'm feeling?<br />
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<br />
Get off my lawn!!<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I never did make it to Oregon.</span>The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-44404712753633778392019-03-12T01:12:00.001-07:002019-03-12T01:12:15.809-07:00Let's Dig In: Depression Part II (the good, the bad, the I need all the potato chips in my belly now dammit)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was trying to go to sleep when this image popped into my head of a vast open space covered in green grass and flowers with trees off in the distance. The sky is blue with white puffy clouds. It's warm. Birds and happy insects flying about (like the big fat fuzzy bumble bees, not wasps and mosquitoes). Sounds perfect. Looks perfect. Happily, I'm sitting on the ground, in the grass looking up at the sky and around at all the beautiful things... with my feet dangling over the edge of a giant deep dark hole in the ground. So why did I have to get up and write this down in my journal at 4am? What does it mean? It is a visual representation of my life with depression. On my good days I get to sit outside with my feet dangling in the depression hole. The warmth of the sun on my face, the breeze lightly blowing through my hair. I'm never very far from the hole. It's there all the time waiting for me to forget it's there and I fall in. Some days I even get up and walk around and explore. Other days I trip and fall into the hole. Sometimes I get stuck on a ledge and the sun can still reach my face. Other times I fall all the way to the bottom of the hole. Normal people get to run around far from the depression hole. They may trip and fall and skin their knees, but they never have this constant quiet threat of a depression hole. Damn you extroverts and your bomb social skills. I imagine that bipolar people are one day at the bottom of the hole looking up and the next floating in the clouds. They never get to experience the ground. That's sad. At least I don't have that.<br />
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I've been having less bad days with some good days sprinkled in. I'm mostly just right in the middle. Not super happy and not super sad which is how I know I'm not bipolar. A song popped to me on my ipod on a run recently that comes pretty close to how I'm doing. And it's not a Twenty One Pilots song! I know, shocker! Listen if you'd like. It's One Republic - Better. The chorus says this: <i>I think I lost my mind, But don't worry about me, Happens all the time, In the morning I'll be better, Things are slowly getting better, Sing it again.</i><br />
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I've been making slow, steady, small changes, one at a time. Making big drastic life changes all at once, like going cold turkey, only leads to big drastic failure, in my experience. So starting way back in September I made my first small change. I stopped binge eating. Once I got that under control I made the next small change. I went from eating three meals a day to two. Once I adjusted to that I made the next small change. I started to exercise. First just walking (I used walking to the coffee shop to get a drink, to curb the binge food cravings), then the rowing machine, and now running. Once the habit of exercise was reformed, the next small change was implemented. I stopped drinking soda.<br />
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I need to work on a few things still. I've been running somewhat consistently now. I signed up for a 5K with my boob. My friend. She calls me her boo and she's my boo too so she's my boob. She has big boobs. Never mind. She's my friend. Yes I have friends dammit. I used to use food or soda as a motivation to exercise. If I went for a run, then I could go get a soda. But I can't do that anymore. I needed to find something, some reward for achieving my goals. What are my goals, you ask? Well, I got fat remember? I got 30 pounds overweight fat. So my goal is to loose those 30 pounds. And I needed to set small incremental goals (every 10 pounds) with rewards for hitting them. So what can I use as rewards? Can't be food. I don't need or want stuff. I hate shopping. So I decided on tattoos. I have wanted to expand and add to the arm band I have. Perfect. So when I reached the first 10 pounds milestone I walked into the tattoo shop and gave my artist my ideas and said have fun designing.<br />
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As of posting (I wasn't going to post this till I actually reached it) I have hit the next 10 pounds milestone. So my reward? My first session.<br />
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There's 10 more pounds. And from experience, the last 5-10 pounds are the hardest to loose. My body is very well adjusted to the new eating habits. And my body is pretty adjusted to exercise. I will start to gain muscle faster than I loose fat so my weight will likely go up before it goes down again. So I have to run farther and faster. Start weight lifting. Eat healthier foods. It has taken about 4.5 months to loose 20 pounds. It will likely take half that, possibly more to loose the last 10. Because these last 10 will be the hardest, I've decided to break it into two. So I need to figure out what the rewards will be for the next and last 5 pounds. I have an idea, and yes they are tattoos.<br />
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The next small change is sleep. That's what I need to work on next. Going to sleep at 4am and waking at noon is probably not the healthiest thing. Even with all the small changes I have made, the daily struggle of depression is always there. There are some days I wake up and I just know, instantly that it's not going to be a good day and I won't be a proper functioning adult. But, there are other days I wake up and I know instantly, that it's going to be a good day.<br />
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When I first started writing this in... February, I was having a string of good days. Now that I am finishing this, I have been in a long string of bad days. Today was the first good day in a long few weeks. Not to burst your happy bubble, but that's just how it works. When I started this post, I was sitting in the grass, as I finish it, I'm a few steps up off the floor of the bottom of the hole. That 5K? We never ran it. We were to run it in January, and it's now close to the ides of March. That tattoo I got for reaching my 20 pounds lost goal? I didn't actually make it. I was one pound away. And I've since gained some back. It feels like I gained all of it back. I've had two sodas, two days in a row including today. I binged an entire can of Pringles and a family sized bag of peanut butter M&M's last week. I haven't been wanting to write in my journal. I set three goals for the next day in each entry. They're usually easy like: run, work 2 hours, and do laundry or go for a walk, shower, fix the kitchen drawer. Because I failed to do pretty much any and all for a while, the last one from a few nights ago simply was: get up, survive, go back to bed.<br />
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And that's exactly what I did. It's what I do. It's what every other depressed person does. We get up every day. We survive however we can (some days we may not make it out of our pj's while other days we accomplish all three goals and then some), and we go back to bed every night. And do it all again. Keep breathing. Keep getting up.<br />
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Let's Dig In Series links: <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-i.html" target="_blank">Religion Part I</a> and <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-ii-where-my.html" target="_blank">Part II </a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/10/listen-to-quiet-ones.html" target="_blank">Depression Part I</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/11/at-it-again-not-quite-addict-with-pen.html" target="_blank">Obsession</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2019/02/lets-dig-in-anxiety-part-i.html" target="_blank">Anxiety Part I</a><br /><br />
<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-7267500182982214302019-02-14T01:02:00.002-08:002019-02-14T23:22:56.266-08:00Lets Dig In: Anxiety Part I (I may look fine, but I'm screaming inside)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Guess what else I have besides depression? That's right, you guessed it, a two for one special in aisle self worth and doubt; anxiety. Yay<br />
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There are several varieties of anxiety, and let me tell you I have them all. I live and deal with them all with varying degrees of ... success? But today we're going to focus on Performance Anxiety. This type doesn't just smack me upside the head if I have to give a speech, or some type of musical performance, oh no. Anytime I have to get up and talk in front of people, have to call someone on the phone, an interview, giving a work presentation (even over a conference call), speaking in meetings, meeting co-workers, bosses, or even co-workers working for me for the first time. You may not think of some of these things as "performance anxiety" situations, but I have to perform. I'm the one in the spotlight. I have a job to do (perform).<br />
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A family friend visited my dad and I a week or so ago for the day. He asked if I had done any field work recently. And I was explaining why I don't do field work much anymore. But I had recently done a very small survey for a cell tower installation, and I was explaining how just that simple task can cause anxiety. He was shocked to hear how much preparation I do, even for a simple cell tower survey that took less than 10 minutes to actually do. But I do all these tasks and preparations to keep my anxiety from overwhelming me and keeping me from doing my job. I have to prepare for any outcome. Which vehicle should I take? How many miles from my house is it? Are there alternate routes? Is there a gate? Which road do I use as access? Who do I have to call to say I'm coming? Where should I park? What does the area look like? What's the terrain? I Google Earth the shit out of it. I print out maps and aerial images. Check batteries in my backup GPS unit, charge the phone, get all my field gear packed into said vehicle I chose to take earlier. All the day before I even leave to do the tiny survey. I've learned to just not think, and dial the phone number of the mystery person who answers when I have to call to say I'm coming. Otherwise I flounder and over think all possible outcomes of said phone call and I get so worked up, I can hardly talk and form sentences when the mystery person answers. I didn't say to our family friend that the map app on my phone didn't work, so it was good that I had looked at maps and my route before, and that even though I knew where I was going and what to look for, and what the place looked like, I was having to do breathing exercises to calm my nerves the closer I got to the site.<br />
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I have to do varying degrees of this preparation for any part of my job that takes me out of my house. I work from home these days, by the way. The more I do something, like say drive to Turlock to do what we call Records Searches at CSU Stanislaus, the less anxiety I feel. I know how to get there. I know several, and have driven several alternate routes to the school's campus. I know where all six car charging stations are on campus. I know where all the pay stations are. I know where the building and room is now. I know my way around the stacks and file cabinets, and how finicky the copy machine is. But do I still get anxious? I do. The last time I went there, four of the six charging stations had blue screens of death. There was a car charging on the fifth one. I was lucky that the sixth and final one was open and working. Otherwise I would have had to find somewhere to charge the car... in the middle of The Central Valley. I have an app for that, but still, I was starting to panic a bit driving from parking lot to parking lot and seeing the blue screens of death. Another good example of what happens when even with all the preparation I do, everything goes wrong, and what happens to me is <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2017/04/well-that-sucked.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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I have a trifecta, a triple threat. I'm an introvert with depression and anxiety. Let's all have a panic attack! Wee! I know now from life and job experiences I have had what will and could give me anxiety. I know how to control my breathing. I know what works and doesn't work when I get nauseous from said anxiety. I know how to curb it, lessen its effects on my body and psyche. I know to prepare. I know when to say no. I know what I can and cannot do and what I am willing to put myself through. I know all this now. When I was a kid or even a teenager? I had no idea.<br />
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When I was a kid, I was shy. I knew that. I took piano lessons from about age 6 to 16. All but I think one of my piano teachers was a wife of a pastor. Whether they were the head pastor, associate pastor, or music pastor, their wives gave piano lessons. Was that a prerequisite back then? As a kid, I loved the piano. We had a piano in the house. I had keyboards. I had piano key wall paper in my room. It was the compromise with my mom when I said I wanted to paint the walls black. As I got older, I got better at the piano. I liked playing for people when they came to visit. I played a song on my little keyboard for show and tell in elementary school. In fourth grade I started learning violin in school. I was in the middle school orchestra and high school orchestra. And I took private violin lessons for a few years in my early teenage years. It was during my teenage years that performance anxiety started to creep in. Playing the violin in the orchestra was fine. I liked it. Playing with a group was fine. I started having problems when it was just me. My private violin teacher had all her students compete in a competition that I can't remember the name of. But if you won your division, you would go on to compete state wide. Anyway, being one of her students, I entered the competition. My dad took me to the competition. It was in a school auditorium I think. I just remember being in this large room and there was a music stand next to a piano and you stood in front of a long table of judges, and behind them was the "audience" (all the other competitors and their parents). Well, the girl who went right before me, nailed it. And it happened to be the exact same piece of music I was playing. I made it through. I was shaking so much. I finished. I did horrible. And after the judges made their comments and such I left the room and puked. Apparently my teacher saw the terror in my face. She pulled me aside after the competition was over and said, "I will never make you do that ever again". She was true to her word (bless her). I never had to enter a competition or perform at her recitals after that day. Some time later, I was in high school, I stopped taking private lessons in violin. My teacher and I agreed that I wasn't going to get any better. She saw my limitations, and I came to realize them as well. I continued on playing in the high school orchestra... in the back row. And I was fine with that. I even continued to play in college a bit. I minored in music and so played in the beginning orchestra for a semester, and played it for a bit, before learning the trombone, in the MLJ's (Marching Lumberjacks).<br />
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My experiences with piano are bit more sinister. Like I said earlier, as a kid, I loved playing and performing on the piano. As I got older and better, I started signing up to play the offertory on a Sunday morning at church. My teacher and I would pick out a song and work on it for my performance. The day would arrive, and I'd get nervous. Sweaty hands and the shakes. My ears would burn hot. I would get through the song. I'd usually do a pretty good job but I would always make at least one or two mistakes, that to me were very obvious. But I'd get done, everyone would clap, and I'd get a few accolades after the service from people. I felt good after, and determined to do better next time. Well one of those next times ended up being the worst experience I ever had while sitting at a piano. Even my mother was pissed off, not at my horrible bombing at the keys, but at what happened right after.<br />
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Well I had this big cool idea about how I was going to tell this trauma tidbit, but I couldn't find the song book this particular song came out of, and I can't remember the name of the song, or even how it went. It must have been quite traumatizing if I actually got rid of the book and can't remember anything about it. Anyway, here's the less dramatic version: I bombed. Everyone knew I bombed. But I pushed through and finished. I was almost in tears. I stood up and was about to walk out of the sanctuary to go hide in the bathroom for the rest of my life when the asshole pastor that was there at that time called me over to him... ON STAGE. I don't remember his exact words anymore, but said something to the effect of "good job on powering through that. Go practice some more, you obviously weren't ready, and come back and play it again", then patted me on the back or something. By then I was balling my eye out, snot was running from the nose, face red from extreme embarrassment. I'm an ugly crier. It's one thing to say something after I left the stage, but it was extremely embarrassing and very traumatic for me to be called out, told to walk to center stage where he was and be both "comforted and scolded" in front of the entire congregation. No one would have seen me crying, had I been allowed to flee when I wanted to. I have to note here too that this pastor had very poor people skills, which is why I put comforted in quotations. He thought he was doing something good and encouraging for me when what he did had the opposite effect. After I was excused, I went and sat down next to my parents and cried some more. My mom was pissed he did that to me. She knew how nervous I would get. She wrapped me in her arms and said "do you want to leave?", I nodded my head (since I still couldn't speak), and she took me home. Maybe a month or so later I was slated to play the offertory again, and I was going to redeem myself and play that song again. I practiced my ass off. The Sunday arrived, and I couldn't do it. I couldn't get up on the stage. I told my piano teacher (who was the church pianist) that I couldn't do it. She said okay, and she took the sheet music from me and played it herself. She bombed. Not nearly as bad as me, but she made noticeable mistakes. That made me feel slightly better, knowing that even my teacher couldn't get through that song without messing up. She later told me during one of our lessons that that song was hard and not my style. So we chucked it. But from that point on, my performance anxiety got worse. I got even more nervous. It's at the point now, that I will start getting anxious or nervous days before I have to do whatever it is I have to do.<br />
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Now this same piano teacher, who was the church pianist, was grooming me to take her place. She didn't want to be the church pianist. I wanted to learn Chopin, Debussy, and Joplin. I didn't want to be the church pianist. That style of music and playing was not in my wheelhouse. She was shoving church music down my throat when what I really wanted was to learn Rags, Nocturnes, and Concertos. But I never said anything. I was timid. I just wanted to please her and everyone. I eventually stopped practicing what she assigned me. I'd make up excuses (sometimes they'd be legit like when I'd jam my fingers playing softball). And eventually I stopped showing up for my lessons. I quit. I stopped playing piano at church. I lost my passion for it. Had I had spoken up and said, no, I don't want to learn this. I want to learn to play this, perhaps I'd still be playing today. I eventually taught myself to play Chopin's Prelude #4 in E Minor from an "easy" book, but what I wanted to learn and couldn't teach myself was Chopin's Nocturne #2 in E Flat. Which one is that, you ask? <br />
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After that traumatic experience and being taught what I didn't want to learn, I lost the desire to perform. I found that the nerves would not go away, no matter how prepared I was. And I became increasingly frustrated by my own limitations. I was a good pianist. But I lacked the simple ability to be a great pianist. There comes a point where I just stop improving, no matter how hard or long I practiced. Not everyone has the ability or talent to be a great pianist, and I was slowly coming to terms with my limited ability. It was so frustrating. I just wanted to be able to play certain pieces, and I just couldn't.<br />
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That piano teacher eventually left the church for another (her husband was a music pastor). I did not fill her shoes when she left. I did play the violin as part of the "worship team" for a year or so. Which I was completely fine with. Playing with a group on an instrument that wasn't front and center was fine. No nerves, no anxiety. And playing church music on the violin was not difficult.<br />
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In high school and college I could pick up and learn a new instrument easy and fast but no matter how hard I tried or practiced, I could only reach a certain skill level. I always wanted to be better but my fingers just couldn't do it. It was so frustrating to the point I would just quit. I picked up classical guitar, electric bass, and trombone. I took lessons in each, and learned on my own. And every one, I quite out of frustration. What that has to do with anxiety, I don't know. It doesn't, I guess.<br />
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I so wanted to be a musician when I was younger. I wanted to be in a band. I wanted to be in a symphony orchestra. I wanted to tour the world and play music. My dad had bought me midi software for our family computer that I could plug my keyboard into. I wrote so many songs. I loved recording and layering tracks. I was showing off a piece I was working on to my then extended family. My then sister-in-law was so impressed (I still think she was just catering to me, but whatever) she wanted to use the song in her wedding. So I worked on it and worked on it, and my dad worked on how to get it onto a cd, and it was used in her wedding. I was so proud... and frustrated, because I heard all the little mistakes I made. I'm sad that all those songs I created are lost and gone forever.<br />
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So in my last years of high school and into college, I knew that my dream of being a musician would not happen because of two things: my lack of skill and my performance anxiety. Even if I could have concurred one of those things, the other would have still stopped me.<br />
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You know what I just realized while writing this up? I have little to no pictures of me actually playing any instrument. The only one I could find is in here above (my dad found the one of me playing my bass). That's kind of sad.<br />
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Well, so now you know a bit about why I'm not a professional musician, public speaker, teacher, or anything involving me being in any kind of spotlight. And I didn't even go into any details about panic attacks, stress induced anxiety, self image/doubt anxiety, travel anxiety, or social anxiety. Oh yes, all those are so fun too.<br />
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So until next time... Don't be offended when I don't answer your call, say no to your invite to a crowded bar, or trip to the mall on a weekend. I have my reasons.<br />
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Let's Dig In Series links: <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-i.html" target="_blank">Religion Part I</a> and <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-ii-where-my.html" target="_blank">Part II </a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/10/listen-to-quiet-ones.html" target="_blank">Depression Part I</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/11/at-it-again-not-quite-addict-with-pen.html" target="_blank">Obsession</a>The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-23747468133497743782019-01-16T22:48:00.000-08:002019-01-16T22:48:01.882-08:00But I'm a grown-up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have to keep reminding myself that I am a grown ass adult. I can do whatever I want. If I want to stay up til 4am watching random YouTube videos, I can. If I want to sit in bed all day in my cat PJ's, I can. There's no one telling me I can't or shouldn't do that, but me. There's nothing wrong with staying up til 4am. I don't have a job where I have to perform brain surgery at 8am. No. So why do I think that it's so wrong? It isn't. Maybe it was a bad idea when I was still in school or had a job that started at 8 or 9am. But I don't. What's the big deal? Why do I hate myself?<br />
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Why does that voice still have so much power over my choices? Why do I still believe it when it tells me staying up til 4am is bad? Or that waking up at noon is lazy? Or that wandering around my house in my PJ's all day is pathetic? Hey, I don't wear them to Wally World, okay? I don't even shop at Wally World! Get off my back, man.<br />
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Growing up we're told as kids and teenagers by our parents that you need to go to bed at a "decent" hour, and get your proper 8 hours of sleep, and get up every morning and put on proper "you're going out in public" clothing. Go to school, do your homework. Did you brush your teeth? When did you last shower, you stink.<br />
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I think that it is so ingrained into my psyche that it has become this annoying nag of a voice in my head. So that every time I don't want to sleep and watch video's or read weird articles on the internet or play farm heroes on my ipad til 4am, I feel this overwhelming sense of guilt. Or when I just don't want to go outside my house and only get dressed from the waist up (bra's are important to me), and stay in my cat PJ's and Dr. Who slippers all day, I feel like I was a lazy slob or crazy cat lady shut-in who just wasted an entire day of her life doing absolutely nothing? I may have actually accomplished many things in my PJ's, but I'll still feel like I just wasted away, sitting on my ass on my bed surrounded by my cats. I only have two cats, I'm not an official crazy cat lady yet. Wait, how many cats does it take to become a crazy cat lady? Are their rules or requirements? Hold on, let me check... the INTERNET!!!!<br />
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<i>A <b>cat lady</b> is a cultural archetype or a stock character, often depicted as a woman, a middle-aged or elderly spinster, who owns many pet cats. The term can be considered pejorative, though it is sometimes embraced.</i><br />
<i>Women who have cats have long been associated with the concept of spinsterhood. In more recent decades, the concept of a cat lady has been associated with "romance-challenged (often career-oriented) women". Specifically, it has also been embraced by lesbian and queer women.</i> <br />
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Oh Wikipedia.... Wait there's a syndrome? Crazy Cat Lady Syndrome? What's this? Oh, it's just toxoplasmosis, a very common parasitic disease that in healthy people shows in flu like symptoms or no symptoms at all. It is contracted by eating poorly cooked food or infected cat feces. Ahhhh, okay. Wait, I said that wrong. I'm not implying that people eat cat poop... well I'm sure some people have. The human species is quite dumb. So some cats have this parasite, they poop it out, and some stupid human cleans their little box with their bare hands? Who does that? They make poop scoopers people. You never have to actually touch the poop. Gross. And wash your hands. Wash your goddam hands... with soap!<br />
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So yeah. Wash your hands, wear a bra, and then do whatever the hell you want. Tell that nag to fuck off!<br />
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<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-26896338597721043182018-12-31T00:21:00.000-08:002018-12-31T00:21:29.506-08:00Let's Dig In: Religion Part II (where my existential crises and limited philosophy skills play together)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These are some of the rabbit holes my brain goes down when I'm off on an existential crisis. A majority of times I'll stop myself from going down the rabbit hole because I don't want to think about such things, and because there really aren't answers to the questions, at least not satisfying ones. But it is important to think about such things... sometimes. You just also have to stop yourself because it could drive you bonkers. So for me, maybe writing these things down will help me to stop before I go completely bonkers. Also it's important to stop oneself because these thoughts often get dark and can lead to dark corners of the mind that house the negative voices. And giving them a voice can lead to bad behavior and wrong choices and ultimately harm others or oneself. So on THAT lovely thought, here are things and concepts I struggle with:<br />
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One of the first things you learn in church is that god created the heavens and the earth. *He created the world in seven days, and created "man" in his own image. I know as an enlightened individual that all the earths creatures were not made in a week, but what a day is to god is probably not the same to us humans. We equate a day as a single revolution of the earth. So if god is sitting up there in the universe looking down at our little spinning ball, it's probably spinning pretty fast in his eyes. Basically I'm saying time and space are irrelevant here. So yes, I think those who take the "god created the heavens and the earth in seven days" thing literally are a bunch of ignorant fools. Now if I take the stance of only science and that gasses and quarks, atoms, and space dust floating around and banging into each other and slowly over billions of years making planets and stuff, I can understand it to a point. I get evolution and the slow creation of plants and animals. But you cannot
create something from nothing. So where did those elements come from?
Okay so there is stuff out in the universe. But where did it come from? The worlds religions answer that with a being who created the stuff of which we and the universe is made of. Ta Da! This is how many people of science are also religious. The god got it all started. But do I believe that? I can't wrap my head around that concept. So if I can't even believe that fundamental element of faith of pretty much every religion in the world... am I just screwed? I can't explain the something from nothing.<br />
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Second thing is the concept of a soul. Humans evolved over billions of years into the species we are today. And if we don't ruin the planet or blow it up in our stupidity we will continue to evolve. So if god created us, at what point in our evolution did he decide this is the point in our development where I give them a soul? We as a species, religious or not, kind of accept that we are conscious beings, the smartest species on the planet, and have something in us that sets us apart from all other species. Conscious thought, a soul. But is it a soul? Is it evolutionary instinct? Intuition? Something happened the day my mom died. And everyone in the room saw it. My mom left her body before her body stopped working. She was still breathing, heart beating, but she wasn't there. Her "soul" was gone. We looked at her and said she's already gone. Just the outer shell was there. Science cannot explain my mom leaving her body prior to her body dying. But religion can. Religion gives an explanation of a soul and what it is. So did her instinct, intuition, and brain (whatever it is that makes us the unique species that we are) stop working first and that's what we saw or did her soul leave first. Did god take her soul prior to her body completely stopping? I don't know. I can go see my mom at her grave. I know that her ashes are under her name plaque. But I "know" she isn't there. What made her her isn't in that urn in the ground. But I don't think she is out floating around in the universe as a conscious being either. And I don't think she is a conscious being in heaven either. I understand that it makes us feel better to think that after we die there is something else. That we continue on in some way. It makes us deal with people dying around us easier to accept. To "know they are in a better place" or whatever. I kind of like the idea that we just cease to be. The brain switches off, the body stops working, and our consciousness just goes to sleep. The end. There's no judgement. No purgatory. No heaven. No hell.<br />
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So does this mean I believe in nihilism? Eh..... not really. Because I want my life to mean something. I want purpose. I want meaning. I want to be on this planet for a reason. If I believed that life in general is meaningless and my existence means nothing, then there would be nothing holding me back from just ending said life right now, because what's the point. I don't want that, and I don't think any of you want that either. I need my life on this planet to mean something, to have an impact. I need a reason to live, to keep breathing. I'm not done yet.<br />
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If interested, here's some other interesting/funny things I find on the internet:<br />
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Here's an 18 year old kid, who at 16 had an existential crisis and his conclusions: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3ee2RMQYns" target="_blank">NateIsLame My Thoughts on Religion</a><br />
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And here's a collaboration of a young animator (TheOdd1sOut) and a musician (Boyinaband) poking a little fun at living a balanced life: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAb_bCtKuXg" target="_blank">Life is Fun</a><br />
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Lastly for the day, I take issue with religious leaders who play politics. On second thought, I don't want to talk about this. Lets just say that these people are utter shit heads who are horrible, idolize and worship false gods, are power and money hungry (the exact opposite of what a religious leader should be), and give religion and believers a bad name and image to the world.<br />
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*In the earliest versions of the bible before being translated into English multiple times, god was not masculine or feminine. God was just god, a being. But in our so called modern culture, god has been given masculine characteristics and prefixes. So growing up in the church, god was always male. And therefore males were better than females. So I always felt this underlying resentment toward the church because I, as a female, was somehow deemed a lesser being. Because Eve was made after Adam and from Adam, she therefore belonged to him. Was less then. That may not have been the lesson intended, but that's what I learned. And no one ever said, "no, no, that's just some dickhead mansplaining bullshit. What god actually said was all humans are created equal and in god's image." Period. End of debate. Male, female, equal. Lesbian, gay, trans, equal. Black, brown, white, equal. Native, immigrant, refugee, equal. Rich, poor, homeless, equal. Autistic, genius, dumb as a doorknob, equal. Whatever you are, you are not more than or less than any other human on this spinning blue ball we all call home in gods eyes. That is what should have been taught in Sunday school. That is what should be taught in Sunday school.<br />
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Let's Dig In Series links: <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-i.html" target="_blank">Religion Part I</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/10/listen-to-quiet-ones.html" target="_blank">Depression Part I </a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/11/at-it-again-not-quite-addict-with-pen.html" target="_blank">Obsession Part I</a><br />
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<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-38277404622367392902018-12-20T23:49:00.001-08:002018-12-20T23:49:15.194-08:00Have you tried rebooting? I hear it's all the rage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Just turn it off and on again. Instead of New Years resolutions, and yes I know I'm posting this before Christmas, I'm rebooting myself. Every single New Years resolution I have ever made, I've broken. It doesn't work for me. And I'm not saying making them is bad. I think for some people, maybe even many people, they are good. They are suppose to motivate you, to make you want to become better human beings. So be a better human being, dammit! <span style="font-size: xx-small;">sorry</span><br />
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I've decided to reboot instead. Like clearing your web browser. Or cleaning out your cache and deleting your cookies (your web cookies, not the real ones in the cupboard). Or hitting reset on that game. But more like actually rebooting your computer after it crashes right before your auto save saves so you loose all the work you just did. Yeah, that. So instead of punching my metaphorical computer (myself) or going all Office Space on it every time it crashes (fails at something), I'm going to reboot (start over) it.<br />
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I'm also not waiting till next week either (why does everything new have to start on January 1st? It's just another day, it's not like some super awesome most amazing person was also born on that day or anything). I hesitate to say I've had a sucky year because I know that many have had WAY worse times than I, but it wasn't all sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows. Not even a single unicorn.<br />
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Part of my reboot was getting help for my depression. Yay. I started journaling, which has helped in pulling the writer part of me out of her dark dank hole (hello blogger, nice to know you still exist on the internet). And today I got a haircut. May not seem like such a big deal to you but I haven't cut my hair in well over a year. I did cut my own bangs (so I could continue to see out of my eyeballs) and I did shave off the back (that was sort of liberating), but still, going out and having some stranger try to make small talk while cutting my hair is a big deal, okay? Geesh. I think I did good though. I think I said enough random mundane things to not make her think I was too much of an awkward, slightly pudgy, crazy cat lady freak show. There were only a few long drawn out silences. I call that a win. Also the "blowout" part where she pulls your hair with the brush thingy and the hair dryer bit felt good. Yeah, I'm not weird at all.<br />
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Also today I bought a new shower poof. So out with the old and in with the new. Apparently you're suppose to switch them out every 30 days????? Seriously?? Yeah, I uh.... well... *cough* I have a new one now. I should switch to a new toothbrush while I'm thinking about it.<br />
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With the journaling thing I mentioned above, I've been writing three goals for the next day. They are by no means monumental goals. Not trying to save the rhinos or anything. They are usually quite simple, like do all your work assignments, make dinner, go for a run, do laundry, or shower because you stink. Small things. And some days even these small things are too monumental for me to accomplish, but I can usually do one or two. So I am finding that even though some days I can only manage a shower, I've accomplished something that day. I wasn't a failure... at that. And guess what, I ran twice this week. Don't mind that that was last weeks goal, but I did do it. I'm learning to celebrate the little accomplishments. I got out of bed today and put on adult clothes! Woo Hoo! <br />
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So yeah, please stand by while I reboot... it may take a little time... you may want to go get some snacks.<br />
<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-20359031355937627092018-12-13T23:04:00.000-08:002018-12-13T23:04:00.692-08:00Let's Dig In: Religion Part I*Trigger Warning* We're going to talk about organized religion and why I don't like it. <br />
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I started going to church in utero. The church I grew up in wasn't the strictest, but it wasn't the most open either. There were rules, and you were suppose to follow them. There were certain things you were suppose to do and certain things you were suppose to say and if you didn't do those things, you were told you were wrong, and you were living in sin and you were not going to heaven because of it unless you asked for forgiveness and changed and conformed. I never felt bullied. There was pressure, but I never felt threatened. I never felt comfortable though either. I never felt like I belonged there.<br />
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Being gay was wrong. Being transgender was wrong. Dating or marrying someone outside the faith was very frowned upon. A former pastor was kicked out and his license was taken away because he and his wife got divorced. So growing up in that environment was at times very confusing to me. My grandparents got divorced but my grandma was still a church member. At first, as a child, I just accepted what I was told and taught. But I was at odds with what I was told to believe and do and be and what I thought and felt I was and who I wanted to be. I can remember when I was very little, maybe 5 years old, and my mom or dad asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. A simple question asked to many a 5 year olds. I distinctly remember saying, "I want to be a boy when I grow up". I don't remember what my parents thought of my answer or what was even said but I vividly remember saying that. I was standing in the hallway at our old house outside my then bedroom. I meant it. And I remember feeling the peach fuzz on my upper lip and thinking when will this grow into a mustache? How old will I be when it starts to grow? (The answer is early 20's) Of course now when I see any random hair that isn't fuzz on my face I yank that sucker out. I also remember thinking when I was in my late teens and 20's, thinking that because I wasn't into dating or boys or having sex that I was maybe a lesbian. But then I thought, I'm not really into girls either. So what was wrong with me? I did figure that one out. I am heterosexual, but I'm also asexual and if you don't know what that is or means, you should go figure that out, go learn something and broaden your horizons on what the range of human sexualities and genders are (there are more than two). This was always a conflict within the religion I was brought up in. There were two genders, there were men and women and they had certain roles to play and if you deviated too much from those roles then you were deviant and sinning and hurting god. Well fuck that shit.<br />
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It was okay to be single... as long as you were still looking for your mate. "That poor lady. She must be really sad and lonely. She hasn't found her other half yet." So sorry, that you think I'm only half a person for not marrying. <br />
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I know that many of you who read this know me personally from the church, but you also then know that I swear a lot in this space and many of you also know I don't go to church now as an older adult. I finally stopped going every week by around 19-20, and completely stopped by age 21. I only go now for special occasions. When my mom was still alive, she wanted the family to all go to Christmas Eve service. So I went because she's my mom. But I wouldn't participate. I don't pray. But out of respect when my dad or other family or friends do, I bow my head.<br />
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I'm just uncomfortable there. I've tried other churches, other denominations, and other religions. I'm not at ease with any of them or within any of their walls. I feel like I'm being manipulated there. They use music, lighting, and the way the leader speaks to invoke certain emotions within me. I don't like that. But that's what they are suppose to do. It's suppose to be a "religious experience". How else are they to do it? I don't know, but I don't like it.<br />
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So now do I call myself a christian? No. Do I call myself an atheist? No. Do I call myself agnostic? No. I don't know what I believe. Do I think there is an afterlife? Usually no. But then I find myself in conversations with people and I say things like, "well my mom is happy now, she's with Jesus." When I die, will my soul/spirit go somewhere? I don't think so, but then I think that's kind of sad. Aren't we suppose to think about how great it will be to be reunited with all our loved ones again, like my mom? If there is an afterlife, will I go to the "good place" because as a child/young person I "accepted Jesus into my heart"? Well, that depends on which religion you believe. <br />
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I start to question myself and doubt myself and think there might be something wrong with me because I just don't feel or believe in it. And I see these amazing and brilliant people around me like my dad who is super smart and has a very emotional and analytical mind who whole heartedly believes in god and heaven and who knows with every fiber of his being that when he dies, he will see his wife again. How can I then, in my own mind believe that that is all bullshit? That religion is just man made stuff made up to make people feel better about those unanswerable existential questions? Does he feel like a failure because his children aren't necessarily religious? Do other's see him as a failure for it? You better not, because we're freaking awesome!<br />
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Then I think well I'm a good person. I try to make the world around me better than I found it. So then if I'm wrong and there is a god and the religion I was raised in is "the one correct" religion will I then go to hell? Because I chose not to believe or do I get to go to heaven because deep down, I'm a good person. Are all the other religions wrong? Because if you look at the majority of the earths religions, the big picture and over arching themes are all the same. It's only in the details where they differ. So then are all religions the correct religion? Or are all these people who believe such things stupid for believing? There are some very intelligent people out there who are religious. They can't all be wrong can they? Then I think well then why do I have such a hard time with the concept?<br />
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I was religious for half my life so far. I tried. I tried to fit in. I tried to conform. I was in the scouting program. I was in church musicals, youth group, bible studies, worship team member. Even went to church summer camps and conferences. Listened to christian music, went to christian concerts and festivals. I was never comfortable. I couldn't be who I wanted to be. I couldn't be my true self. I couldn't say what I wanted to say. I was never comfortable in my own skin there. Why would I continue to go to a place week after week, year after year, if I was uncomfortable? That's like a slow torture.<br />
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Again, this is mostly about organized religion and churches. I have a long list of issues I have with organized religious institutions. Which is why I won't go to church services. (and that goes for protestant, catholic, Jewish, Muslim, Sikh, etc.) Maybe at some point I will delve into some of them, but not now.<br />
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People always tell young people or anyone to "just be yourself". Well I can't do that with these walls and rules and judgement.<br />
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So am I a christian (religious in general)? No. Am I agnostic? No. Am I an atheist? No. So what am I then? You have to be something. Everyone has to be something. Well, if you have to have an answer now then, the best I can do is, I am human. You may think that's a cop out or lame or a way to avoid the question and answering it but that's all I got right now. I am human.<br />
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Is my dad wrong for believing in a higher power? No. Am I wrong for not believing? I hope not. What you choose to believe is right for you. What my dad believes is right for him. Everyone's beliefs are individual and specific to each. No two people believe the exact same thing. So what I believe is very different than my dad and neither is incorrect. Both are valid. And belief and faith evolves. It grows and adapts and morphs just like we do. We as individuals grow, learn, forget, adapt, and morph our entire lives. My beliefs will change. And so should yours.<br />
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Let's Dig In Series links: <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/10/listen-to-quiet-ones.html" target="_blank">Depression Part I</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/11/at-it-again-not-quite-addict-with-pen.html" target="_blank">Obsession Part I</a>The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-17022817621852855022018-11-17T20:01:00.000-08:002018-12-13T23:05:08.118-08:00Let's Dig In: Obsession Part I, At it Again... Not quite an addict with a pen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Before we even get into this, I started working on this months ago (literally months ago). So the beginning dates to this past September. And slowly got worked on a bit at a time. And I know this won't be everyone's cup of tea. This took sooooo much time and effort. There's a lot of links. (<span style="font-size: x-small;">all links are to the band's YouTube videos whenever possible</span>) And it's not a funny poop story or roadtrip adventure. Maybe later. Okay, so here it is:<br />
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My dad switched up his music playlist a few weeks ago (it's back to his usual again - it was a short lived diversion), and thought I should do the same. Actually I've finally moved on a bit from Thirty Seconds to Mars 24/7 finally anyway. Not sick of them by any means, but thought I should put some variety in there. Started slow with the new Imagine Dragons single, Natural. Then I saw that Muse has a new album dropping in November and pre-ordered it and downloaded the singles they have released so far ahead of the album. (Imagine Dragons and Muse's albums are now out) And while I was scrolling through my itunes where I saw that Muse was releasing new stuff soon, I saw that Twenty One Pilots were as well.<br />
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Well...<br />
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Let...<br />
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The...<br />
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Obsession...<br />
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Begin....<br />
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Again.... <br />
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Sweet mother of God, these boys! Just... UUUHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGG<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3uyMIsRqR_sRwlkLz3_E-KV40f_bGl5Oa3gjoTfxNsLFQvMZuOyhplkhgFYy1ftljmKrtvo5IXZqbbsLPayJoj2APlE4V6cuf4cSnCESQ68TksAsL5WvKtm6ktZUvotUrhlZ1VQspMwk/s1600/Joseph-J0445-Vinte-E-Um-Pilotos-Tyler-Josh-Dun-Banda-de-M-sica-Pop-14x21-24x36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="668" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3uyMIsRqR_sRwlkLz3_E-KV40f_bGl5Oa3gjoTfxNsLFQvMZuOyhplkhgFYy1ftljmKrtvo5IXZqbbsLPayJoj2APlE4V6cuf4cSnCESQ68TksAsL5WvKtm6ktZUvotUrhlZ1VQspMwk/s320/Joseph-J0445-Vinte-E-Um-Pilotos-Tyler-Josh-Dun-Banda-de-M-sica-Pop-14x21-24x36.jpg" width="214" /></a>Where do I start? First, lets begin where I first heard them... on the radio. They rose to radio over time and then pretty much saturated the alternative, rock, and pop stations to the point of being over played between 2015-2017 (they even won a Grammy in 2017). I heard them on the radio, liked the songs, and then went into itunes and downloaded the two albums that were getting the radio play: Vessel (2013) and Bluryface (2015). I first saw them on TV in 2015, with their performance at the VMA's (that's when I realized they were just two guys). In 2016 they released a single, Heathens for the Suicide Squad movie. And that was pretty much it for me. I would listen to the albums every once in a while, but never really delved into the duo, or their music videos and such. I understood then that their music and lyrics had substance and meaning (how can you not realize this with songs like Migraine and Car Radio, for Christ sake), but for the most part, I kept my listening superficial. I thought they had spent most of their career (I thought they were much older than they actually are) underground (i.e. purposely away from radio, radio charts, being famous, etc.), had a few radio hits and got mainstream exposure, but preferred to go back underground. (after doing some research when I got obsessed, I learned that they were underground and got pushed into the mainstream, and after the (over)exposure, purposely went silent - I'll explain more later). My first impression of them was that they were these intense kinda angry guys, maybe a bit older than me, who hated being exposed to the mainstream. Booooiiiii was I wrong.<br />
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And then... I saw a video interview recommended with Tyler Joseph (the singer/song writer) on YouTube (while I was looking at Thirty Seconds to Mars stuff). Yay for YouTube with their, hey you may like this section. It was 35 minutes long and about their new album coming out on October 5th. Oh my goodness. I went into the interview not knowing anything about the band, Tyler Joseph, or anything about their upcoming album. And after, I was intrigued. Not just intrigued, but full on "I have to know it all, and I have to know it now". And so the deep dive into YouTube everything Twenty One Pilots began. I have yet to come up for air. I even re-watched that initial interview after I learned more about them and caught so much more upon the second viewing (I think I've watched it 5 times now-don't judge me). Here's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4CLo1gpHyQ" target="_blank">a link</a> to it if you are so inclined. It's REALLY good.<br />
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Seriously these two boys are amazing. I'll try and be as brief as possible in explaining their background. Back in 2007, Tyler Joseph made his first record, <a href="http://twenty-one-pilots.wikia.com/wiki/No_Phun_Intended" target="_blank">No Phun Intended</a> in the basement of his parents house (it was never officially released). He was 17, a senior in high school, and paid to put the songs on itunes (He's since deleted them-but nothing is ever truly gone from the internet). He, with two friends (Chris Salih on drums and Nick Thomas on bass) formed Twenty One Pilots in 2009 and self-released their first album on their own, the self titled <a href="http://twenty-one-pilots.wikia.com/wiki/Twenty_One_Pilots_(album)" target="_blank">Twenty One Pilots</a>. While working on their second album (again self-released), <a href="http://twenty-one-pilots.wikia.com/wiki/Regional_at_Best" target="_blank">Regional at Best</a>, in 2011, both Salih and Thomas left the band and Josh Dun (drums) joined (who met Tyler after one of their shows and they became fast friends). They got the attention of the music industry by selling out large venues in their home state of Ohio and signed with Fueled by Ramen in 2012 (Tyler successfully negotiated to maintain ownership of their previous songs and albums and all future songs. That's amazing for a 22 year old). They released their "first" studio album (but really their third) <a href="https://twentyonepilots.warnerartists.net/eu/vessel.html" target="_blank">Vessel</a> in 2013. Followed by <a href="https://twentyonepilots.warnerartists.net/eu/blurryface-1.html" target="_blank">Blurryface</a> in 2015. Followed by the single, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UprcpdwuwCg" target="_blank">Heathens</a> in 2016 for the movie Suicide Squad. Great song, horrible movie. They then went completely silent (stopped touring, no interviews, no social media) for 15 months (the dreaded hiatus). And during that time came up with <a href="http://www.twentyonepilots.com/" target="_blank">Trench </a>(released October 5th, 2018). I recommend the video series' the band puts out for their releases and tours, starting with <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Gz__Iwmr-U" target="_blank">Regional at Best</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wu4DcsalsL8" target="_blank">Blurryface Tour Highlights</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uoYC4K3E-y0" target="_blank">Twenty One Pilots Goes East</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rh9i_LyqSIc" target="_blank">Emotional Roadshow Tour Highlights</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xa9nJch8Ydk" target="_blank">Sleeper Series</a>, and the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrzz82R2GNQ" target="_blank">Bandito Tour Series</a> (which is going on now).<br />
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Ok so now that you're sufficiently bored, on to the cool part (it's all cool to me). These two have a very passionate fan base which they named the Skeleton Clique. And with any fan base there is drama and screaming tweens and teenage girls, but we won't dwell on that (because that will just make all our heads hurt). What I think truly makes them unique and powerful are a few things. 1: their genre blending (they do not fit into any category) much like Linkin Park. 2: their lyrical content (very introspective, often very dark, but always hopeful and uplifting [you have to pay attention]), and 3: the two boys themselves.<br />
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Point 1: These boys blend and merge genres not just in an album, but in songs. Tyler will rap and play the ukulele at the same time or pound the piano keys in a hard rock or electric synth dance song. A few examples: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xf2_10edFhM" target="_blank">Ode to Sleep</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lzXRdS9cynQ" target="_blank">Heavydirtysoul</a>, both of which opened each album Vessel and Blurryface respectively. Many times song structure is completely thrown out the window, as well as time signatures, tempos, and genre. And somehow it never sounds wrong.<br />
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Point 2: There are only a few songs that aren't introspective in some way. Tyler has only written two love songs... both of which are to his wife and both are somewhat twisted (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nky4me4NP70" target="_blank">Tear in my Heart</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8GwUos_Mtw" target="_blank">Smithereens</a>). He wrote <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDyxykpYeu8" target="_blank">House of Gold</a> (on Vessel) for his mom, and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3bzqzspXPI" target="_blank">Legend</a> (on Trench) honoring his late grandfather (who graces the cover of Vessel along with Josh's grandfather). He never writes fluff. No sex, drugs, or money bullshit. Which is why I despise most rap music today. It's usually very personal and about his and Josh's personal demons. Their songs are multi-layered. He almost always writes in metaphors, so that listeners can inform their own meanings. One of my favorites off Vessel is Guns for Hands which basically talks about how he has a hard time going to sleep knowing that there are people out there (fans) who are harming themselves or thinking of killing themselves. He writes:<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>I know [...] That you all have guns<br />And you never put the safety on<br />And you all have plans,<br />To take it, to take it, don't take it, take it, take it</i></span></div>
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He then goes on to say to take that negative energy and instead of focusing on yourself, to turn it and project it at him.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>We've turned our hands to guns, trade in our thumbs for ammunition<br />I must forewarn you, of my disorder, or my condition<br />'Cause when the sun sets, it upsets what's left of my invested interest<br />Interested in putting my fingers to my head<br />The solution is, I see a whole room of these mutant kids<br />Fused at the wrist, I simply tell them they should shoot at this<br />Simply suggest my chest and this confused music, it's<br />Obviously best for them to turn their guns to a fist</i></span></div>
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He talks a lot about depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies. Tyler admits that he suffers with depression (like real dark). Josh admits to suffering from anxiety (crippling). Both are very open about their struggles. And although Tyler has never said in public, we can speculate from his lyrics that his depression has led him to some very dark places where perhaps suicide was contemplated. (he writes in Migraine: <i>Thank God it's Friday cause Fridays will always be better than Sundays</i><i>' Cause Sundays are my suicide days</i>. And in Car Radio: <i>There's no hiding for me I'm forced to deal with what I feel There is no distraction to mask what is real</i><i> I could pull the steering wheel.</i> Addict with a Pen: <i>My trial was filed as a crazy suicidal head case.</i>) Some fans go as far to say that he may have even attempted it. But again, that is all speculation. However, he freely admits and is very clear that his music and the creative process of making and performing said music saved his life and continues to do so. He delves into this very subject in the above linked interview. <br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=92XVwY54h5k" target="_blank">Car Radio</a> (on Vessel) talks about how dangerous it can be to be left alone with your thoughts when there is no distraction. How it is both frightening and necessary at times. They've also jabbed at the music industry a few times (listen to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktBMxkLUIwY" target="_blank">Holding on to You</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywvRgGAd2XI" target="_blank">Lane Boy</a>, and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQEa2KzTJ5U" target="_blank">Levitate</a>). If you watch Holding on to You, then watch the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtIhqEBVFpE" target="_blank">Behind the Scenes of that video</a>, and then watch the music video again... there is a particular scene in the video involving a rope, that Tyler had a very real moment that was caught in the behind the scenes. Two people in the video saw this moment and tried to help him, only one of them succeeded. But if you go back and watch that moment in the music video... he isn't acting. That's just real, raw, and honest emotion.<br />
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My current favorites are as follows: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ajitBBOfr0" target="_blank">Air Catcher</a> (off their self-titled album). It reminded me right away of an old Colplay song, Politik
the opener off their second album A Rush of Blood to the Head (which
definitely came out first in 2002 when Tyler was still just a wee 13
year old) I listened to this on my drive home from Arcata way up in Humboldt County recently. It was on repeat until I learned the words and then went on repeat some more while I upped the volume and sung along... very loudly. I feel on this song and on this album in particular you can just feel Tyler's frustration and anger at life and the noise in his head and struggling to understand it and handle it.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pmv8aQKO6k0" target="_blank">Guns for Hands</a><br />
Which I've already talked about above.<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NK7WWbXlkj4" target="_blank">Screen</a><br />
He says: <i>While you're doing fine, there's some people and I<br />Who have a really tough time getting through this life<br />So excuse us while we sing to the sky</i><br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OmL9TqTFIAc" target="_blank">Morph</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wc79sjzjNuo" target="_blank">Chlorine</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRwXUzHpHIc" target="_blank">Cut My Lip</a> <br />
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Critics have often said of them that their songs and lyrics celebrate or glorify depression and suicide. They couldn't be farther from the truth. They weren't paying close enough attention. Listen to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MeQ9rA2Ifg" target="_blank">Neon Gravestones</a> off their latest album. This is one of the only times he doesn't write in metaphors. Yes Tyler writes about his demons. He writes about depression, self harm, anxiety, doubt, and suicide. But you have to pay attention. In every song I've mentioned so far, each is a story, a narrative, and each have a solution or conclusion that ends in victory.... not death. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W29uD5Gf5Fc" target="_blank">Migraine</a>: <i>And I will say that we should take a day to break away</i><i> From all the pain our brain has made, the game is not played alone</i><i> And I will say that we should take a moment and hold it</i><i> And keep it frozen and know that life has a hopeful undertone</i><br />
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Truce: <i>Now the night is coming to an end</i><i> The sun will rise and we will try again</i><i> Stay alive, stay alive for me</i><i> </i><br />
He's always offering solutions. Options that have helped him. Whether that be their music, any music, creating something, creating any form of art, faith in a higher power, or reaching out to family or friends. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Ez7vi-kQdM" target="_blank">Kitchen Sink</a> (Regional at Best) is a perfect example.<br />
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Okay on to point 3: because I can ramble on and on about song lyrics. These two boys are just pure joy. Geniuses. Precious smol beans that must be protected. They really do just radiate positivity. They are goofy goobers. Complete and utter dorks. They have an amazing bromance. They really are best friends. And they feed off each other and rely on each other. I honestly don't think they would be the young men that they are today or be the musicians they are today without each other. I was trying to find a video or interview that best encapsulates them but there just isn't just one. There are so many little gems and inside jokes and really good interviews (why Taco Bell is sacred, why they are called smol beans, their aversion to bananas, the fact that they make up a new story of how they met any time they are asked). I'll just say if you choose to go digging, here are my suggestions. For good interviews check out the ones by Stryker from KROQ, Donny Fandago from 105.7 the Point, and the "press conference" where fans got to ask questions by ALT 98.7 FM, The Woody Show from 2015. And just because it is freaking hilarious, this 4 minute video of Josh and Tyler's conversation while playing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGrsXAoBFMs" target="_blank">Happy Wheels Adventure</a> (video game) where they coined the term "Use your glutes".<br />
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So I said I'd dive into their genius a bit, and I've touched on it slightly already, but if you choose to dig into their music, you notice themes and concepts and an evolution right from the very beginning. Now whether or not they planned this all out from the beginning, I doubt, but because of how Tyler writes and the way they construct their music and live shows and music videos, it allows them the add on meaning and new interpretations onto their older material and continue stories and themes that were started way back in the very beginning. The Blurryface album was about a character named Blurryface and was introduced in the song Stressed Out. A character that represents Tyler's insecurities. And by the end of the album, Blurryface is defeated (Blurryface is manifested visually by the black paint Tyler smears on his hands and neck in music videos and live performances). In the latest album, Trench, and if you clicked and watched that first interview, you know that it is a "concept" album and expands what they created in the previous album. Artist don't really make concept albums anymore. It's quite risky, they risk alienating radio and mainstream media consumers (which they don't care if they do). I can only think of three other bands that have done/do this recently. The American Idiot album by Green Day, Welcome to the Black Parade by My Chemical Romance, and what the Gorillaz do with all their albums. So part of their genius is that you don't have to know any of the story to enjoy the album(s). You may not understand some of the lyrics, but it doesn't take away any of the surface enjoyment of the songs and there is meaning to each song that isn't tied to the concept. There are layers. But for those who like digging and stories and mysteries.... you can go down to the bottom, underneath the insane asylum and get lost in the world they have created. Some examples without going way nerdy on you (since you've stuck around this far): <br />
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The Jumpsuit video (Trench) is a continuation of the last video they made <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_9Kf0D5BTs" target="_blank">Heavydirtysoul</a> from Blurryface. They actually knew and started planning Trench when they made that video. You can see that Tyler isn't wearing red (used as a theme on Blurryface) and Josh's hair color is yellow (Trench's color). The hooded figure driving the car is a Bishop (whom we don't get introduced to until Trench).<br />
The three part story they made in the singles they released in their music video form: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UOUBW8bkjQ4" target="_blank">Jumpsuit</a> : <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMAPyGoqQVw" target="_blank">Nico and the Niners</a> : <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uv_1AKKKJnk" target="_blank">Levitate</a> are a call back to the song A Car, A Torch, A Death from their self-titled album (the videos tell a story even though they are track 1, 9, and 2 on the album). The song Car Radio (from Vessel) is mentioned in Levitate. The song My Blood has a call back to the lions den reference in Migraine (Vessel). The Nico and the Niners video has call backs to the music videos Stressed Out and Ride. And the car from the Heavydirtysoul video is in the Jumpsuit video as well as Levitate and is used in their live shows on the new tour. Hype isn't, to my knowledge, a call back to any of their previous work but it just reminds me of my good old days. Very reminiscent of late 90's Oasis or early 00's Blink 182.<br />
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Then the way they announced their break (the dreaded hiatus) and the content for this world they created was so cool. There are whole websites and YouTube channels dedicated to it all. I just can't explain it here.<br />
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But if you so choose: The <a href="http://dmaorg.info/found/15398642_14/clancy.html" target="_blank">dma.org site</a> they created is again genius (you have to start at the bottom of the page). Every couple days or weeks they would post something new to the site over the summer. And you can spend hours, days, weeks picking it apart or you can do what I did after solving just one mystery, go to the subreddit where everyone else already decoded stuff and posted their theories. I can't find the one I read now, but here's someone's synopsis of what went on to <a href="https://www.coolaccidents.com/news/twenty-one-pilots-trench-theories" target="_blank">the lead up of the release of Trench</a>. It's old now, and some of the theories (one in particular that Tyler is Clancy) have been proven incorrect now. But it's fun to get a glimpse of how fans were decoding things as they were happening. FPE (part of their iconography and tattooed on many a body, from the song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDI9inno86U" target="_blank">Fairly Local</a>, <i>the Few, the Proud, the Emotional</i>) now has another meaning in the world of DEMA (Failed Perimeter Escape) which if you are well versed in the world means so much more than just what the words are. They love doing things like this. Filling words that normally don't mean anything with meaning. Jumpsuit, East is Up, Bandito, Sahlo Folina. Say what now? That last one. There are layers upon layers to that one. Unscramble the letter and it spells out "all Ohio fans". "Sahlo" means to enable in Somali and the name of Folina has a meaning of "happiest when you are expressing in
some creative, artistic way, and not conforming to strict routine" so it means "to enable expressive creations". Then in a Reddit Q&A, Tyler responded saying that, it's their cry for help when they're in trench. And then there's this theory, which I like a lot (you can skip to .56 to skip past the ad) <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUPJTL5_ZaU" target="_blank">Sahlo Folina</a>.<br />
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Here is a list of YouTuber's who have really good content and explanations and theories about the new album and stuff. If you're lazy like me and want everyone else to do the work for you:<br />
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Pop Song Professor's theories and explanations on the new album Trench (he also does some really good song lyric analysis) <br />
Dema for Dummies Part I <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKCng2rtALY" target="_blank">click here</a><br />
Dema for Dummies Part II <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73BmP9_eVj4" target="_blank">click here</a><br />
Dema for Dummies Part III <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mVWy1Ms6JUM" target="_blank">click here</a> <br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/gingersheepo/featured" target="_blank">Gingersheep</a>: If Tyler and Josh are smol beans, then Gingersheep is the smol bean of the fandom and must be protected. I'll just link to his YouTube home page because he has too many really good videos. But he is a good source for all things Dema and Towers of Silence, and Vialism, and the dma.org website. The link above about Sahlo Folina is his.<br />
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Nalbis did a three part series. He's an aspiring film maker. A bit weird and hokie at times, but really good.<br />
The Dema Universe <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0W-Bl1gONgE&t=19s" target="_blank">click here</a><br />
Who is Clancy <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwVgm4gEbLg" target="_blank">click here</a><br />
Welcome to Trench <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj5iYgRe-Kk" target="_blank">click here</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6l8cNs8jIQs" target="_blank">Wheatmaker</a>: I just found her, she deserves many more followers and views, in my opinion. She's a physicist. I like her because unlike the Pop Song Professor, who can sometimes come off as over emphasizing how religious each song is, she comes at them with the more analytical side of the mind. Yes you can interpret many of the songs to be about god, praying to god, reaching out to god, god, god, god, etc., but that's not the one and only way. I think the majority of the Clique is christian (the boys themselves identify as christian), and so that interpretation of the music is most prevalent when looking at YouTube content. However, part of their genius is that you don't have to be a religious person to find meaning in their songs. And Wheatmaker, I think, brings a much needed discussion that the religious leaning Pop Song Professor does not, that the new album is saying there are problems with blind faith/organized religion and there are problems with only relying on science. Both have issues, yet one can't rely on just one or the either. So songs like Morph discuss that juxtaposition.<br />
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Some honorable mentions:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNJ9kJtPoCdu_tVqwNtEsCBAONCMTKqwchyEzzI_lbU6qr8a0KLDWWvICnmlSzwOtzu2yUEyWELah2xNpIdhqxSIbOLCU1R2PA97P-S9svmicG22CAFo9B8qYQuiuuIQPqpR8aP7ApV7b/s1600/AN66SAyJoqXQekZApmvKmQ5IlMy6-5ToH7TLFtbKlg%253Ds900-mo-c-c0xffffffff-rj-k-no.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="900" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNJ9kJtPoCdu_tVqwNtEsCBAONCMTKqwchyEzzI_lbU6qr8a0KLDWWvICnmlSzwOtzu2yUEyWELah2xNpIdhqxSIbOLCU1R2PA97P-S9svmicG22CAFo9B8qYQuiuuIQPqpR8aP7ApV7b/s200/AN66SAyJoqXQekZApmvKmQ5IlMy6-5ToH7TLFtbKlg%253Ds900-mo-c-c0xffffffff-rj-k-no.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UColz6TKfiHUYQpbv8E7WLXA" target="_blank">Pillow Pilots</a>: who started out as a fan animation page and morphed into all things fun and silly to <br />
entertain the fans during the so called hiatus.<br />
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CrankThatFrank: a self professed Emo God, who's reactions to the band coming out of the dreaded hiatus and their music video's is just fun to watch because he is so genuine. His reactions to the video trilogy: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6J6ns2TGY0s" target="_blank">Jumpsuit</a> : <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gkLWDpnkLI" target="_blank">Nico and the Niners</a> : <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlcomJiC26A" target="_blank">Levitate</a><br />
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A few more thoughts. I swear I'll finish this soon. I had a few observations on my deep dive into all things Twenty One Pilots. I was never nervous playing in an orchestra or band. Only once in the MLJ's (HSU Marching Lumberjacks) was I unable to play. Which was when I was the only bone player and a song on the set list had a bone solo. I played second parts, not first and couldn’t play the bone solo. So I told the axe major I couldn't do it. We still played the song, but I handed my trombone to a trumpet player (who is an amazing trombone player) just for the solo. Something happens when you put the uniform on. Whether it was the crazy MLJ gold t-shirt or the slick black of orchestra attire. I'm not shy or reserved in a group performance or when in disguise (which is one reason why the boys wear masks sometimes). Individual performances were a whole different story. I would get nervous and anxious to the point of crippling performance anxiety. I puked my guts out after a violin competition. It got worse as I got older, to where I couldn't even get up on the stage. To the point where I quit playing all together. I stopped taking piano and violin lessons, in a way so that I wouldn't have to perform anymore. Tyler and Josh can’t do it solo either. They need each other. Somehow knowing that you’re not alone in the performing or experience allows me to not experience the sometimes crippling effects of anxiety. Tyler has said many times that he would never do a solo project or "go solo". Both of them say that they couldn't get up on those huge stages night after night, show after show, if the other wasn't there. Having that support, the "you're not in this alone" is so vital to people like me and them.<br />
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I still can’t listen to Linkin Park (I swear this isn't some random tangent). At least not entire albums. If a song comes on a playlist or radio, it's fine, but I still can't just seek them out and play their entire discography. Especially their last album. I'm not the biggest fan of pop (which their last album sort of was) but also because the band catered to Chester on that last album. His vocal range to be specific. They wrote the lyrics first and then arranged the songs and created them in key signatures that best fit his range. They usually wrote lyrics last. And the lyrics are so spot on to him and his demons. They were hopeful but then in the end he lost his war, which still makes me sad and angry at the same time. Maybe it will change with more time. I didn’t care for The Hunting Party album when it came out. It was too hard sounding. But now it’s my favorite album of theirs. Mike has released his first solo work after Chester's death and is touring and sharing about his time with Chester. He said, I think at an awards show, how after Chester died, Tyler from Twenty One Pilots called him and reached out. <br />
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ALL of THAT to say, this band, these two boys and their latest album Trench got me to a state where I was able to write <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/10/listen-to-quiet-ones.html" target="_blank">this blog post</a>. The album was released the night before. I listened to it twice all the way through not an hour after it was released at midnight on the 5th. I listened to that quiet one and listened to Vessel in the car while I drove to the park. When I got to the bench, I pumped Trench into my earholes, and that blog post just gushed like flood gates were released. It's rare that that happens to me, where my hand can barely keep up with my brain (unlike this blog post that I've struggled with for almost three months). I wrote so fast, for fear of loosing any of the thoughts that were pouring out. So thank you Tyler and Josh. Thank you Twenty One Pilots for being that first handhold, that first step on my way out of my hole. Because before I was just down there at the bottom looking up at the light, hopeless. The journey out of a deep depression is long I am finding. Which is normal, so I'm told. Also thank you to those of you who read that post and wrote me or reached out. Thank you. Knowing you're not alone and that other people who you know personally have some of the same difficulties you do is affirming. I'm still in the hole, but I'm not standing at the bottom anymore. There are good days. There are bad days. I saw my primary care doctor who referred me to a therapist, who I saw last week. I'm back on birth control pills. And I'm slowly getting back into exercising. Due to the extremely bad hazardous air however, I'm just using the rowing machine in my garage. But I'm learning that small victories are victories. Small steps in the right direction are still steps in the right direction.<br />
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And finally, I bought tickets to their show in Oakland, that was on the 11th. The concert was sold out, so I had to buy scalped tickets which were way over original price, but I felt it was worth it. And boooooiiiiiiii was it. I took my BFF (who when she agreed to go with me didn't know who they were) who is now completely obsessed with them. She texts me randomly saying, "damn you, I now listen to them in the car, while working, and at the gym". I'm like a proud mom. We talked and talked about how both of us just needed that night. How special it was. And just the simple thing of looking forward to going to a concert with a friend can literally save your life. She's so obsessed now that she called me the other day and said "So keep May 12th open in your calendar." Uh, why? I ask. "Because Twenty One Pilots will be playing in Vancouver Canada that night and we should go." Well hot diggity. After I got off the phone with her, I went to their website and looked up the tickets. She called me back, and I told her what I was doing and I said I can buy them now. So I did. So BFF, her daughter, and I will be flying to Canada in May for yet another amazing weekend. And I'll get a stamp in my new passport... finally! And that's one more thing to look forward to. That's one more handhold, one more step in the right direction. East is Up.<br />
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Let's Dig In Series links: <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/10/listen-to-quiet-ones.html" target="_blank">Depression Part I</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-i.html" target="_blank">Religion Part I </a>The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-15333038802161852692018-10-22T01:34:00.001-07:002018-10-22T01:34:29.582-07:00Ode to a dead friendshipAs my dad likes to say, I need to park it. As in, I need to write down what I need to say so that I can park it and move on. So hopefully after this, I will be able to move on.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I apologize in advance for any and all bad language I will most likely use... to those of you with somewhat sensitive ears (or rather eyes) to such language. Sorry.</span><br />
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I went to my all-class high school reunion this past weekend. I wasn't going to go. I didn't have the best high school experience. But my sister and her good friend were going, and they persisted in nagging me, and I finally gave in to their pressure. I was actually having a good time. I got my picture taken with Crazy George. I meet up with former soccer team mates and they remembered me (I didn't have the best of experiences on that team-but they were genuine in their excitement to see me. That was nice.). I went over to see if I knew anyone from my class, and low and behold, I remembered people, and they remembered me. All was well. Towards the end of the day I saw that my high school through age 30 best friend came (I knew her older sister was going to be there). She was a year ahead of me, so she wasn't sitting all that far away. So I kept looking back over to where she was sitting. She was chatting away with some of her classmates. It was getting toward the end, so I mustered up the courage, got up, and walked over to where she was and simply said, "Hey, I just wanted to say hi." That was it. That's all I said to her. She... said nothing. She didn't even acknowledge me. Not even a head nod. She looked at me, and then turned back to her friend and kept talking. Thankfully, one of the people who she was talking to also knew me (We went to Germany together on the exchange program) started talking to me, so that I wouldn't be left standing there awkwardly in silence as my spirit crumpled into a tiny paper ball thrown into a fire and burned to death. So thank you high school German exchange program friend! You are super duper awesome! Seriously. You are a goddamn HERO!!!!!<br />
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Now, why did my former best friend ignore me? That is a very good question. I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA!<br />
<br />
A little back story: I've known this person since I was one year old. ONE. My family moved to San Jose just after my first birthday. This person, who was two at the time, was in the same church nursery as me. Now of course I didn't really become a sentient being until maybe age 6. She came to all my birthday parties. I went to all of hers. I ate all her Grammy's amazing cooking when she came to visit. She played all our video games when we got an Attari and then the 8-bit Nintendo systems. She would play with my cats and I would marvel at her goldfish. We never went to the same schools until high school. She saved my awkward ass in high school. She invited me to sit with her and her friends at break and lunch so I wouldn't be alone. She encouraged me to try-out for the swim team and the softball team. I got to swim and play ball with her. It was awesome. She got me into the science club. Even the chess club. However, I just watched her play. Chess was not for me. I only liked playing battle chess on the computer because I liked watching the pieces beat the crap out of each other. And I always lost (even on the super easy "you're an idiot" level). She then went away to college, and I came and visited her. I did my college thing. When I came home from college, it was like no time had passed. We were best friends. She got married. We still hung out. Got coffee. Saw movies. Cooked food. Baked pies. Talk for hours. We even went to Graduate School together. She in Chemistry, and me in Anthropology. We would meet up on campus for lunch. And then she got a divorce. It turned ugly. She stayed at my house sometimes. I went with her to court dates. Helped her move out. She got a cute little apartment just a mile from me! And we'd go get pumpkin spice latte's at Starbucks and eat at Happy House. And then, my sister and I bought our first house.<br />
<br />
–and then whatever it was that was so horrible happened– <br />
<br />
All communication just stopped. No more phone calls. I sent her birthday cards. I got nothing back. And then I got blocked on Facebook. She fucking blocked me! I don't know what I did. All I can think of is that I moved 30 minutes away. Well, she was 30 minutes away when she was living with her stupid ex-husband, and I still drove it to see her! Maybe her stupid ex-husband told her something about me and she believed him? She's smarter than that.<br />
<br />
I can say all this because she blocked me on Facebook, so she'll never see this post. Whatever it was that I did that was so horrible, she never told her family because I'm still Facebook friends with all of them. I would have loved to have talked with her sister at the reunion but when I say her, she was with the former best friend who refused to acknowledge me but the sister did light up when she saw me and we waved to each other very bigly. So I guess that was nice.<br />
<br />
I would have been fine if she had told me 10 years ago (when all communication stopped), "hey, I don't want to be friends anymore." I would have been sad and confused. But I would have accepted it. I wouldn't be sitting here 10 years on now wracking my brain for the smallest of memories of what I may have done.<br />
<br />
You know what really pisses me off? She never even said a thing when my mom died. Nothing. Not a single thing! Well FUCK YOU! We've known each other for almost 40 years now, the least you could have done was unblock me for five fucking seconds and wrote "Sorry your mom died" and then reblock me. It's not that hard. Co-workers who I didn't even get along with showed more sympathy than you did. Facebook friends I've never met in real life showed more feelings than you. At least her parents sent a sympathy card. It came really late, but at least they sent something. Asshole.<br />
<br />
Now I'm the kind of person who is a people pleaser. I HATE conflict. I avoid it. So I almost always bend over backward for other people. I'm also an emotional person. I mull over everything. If you read the previous post you got a glimpse into what happens in my head. I don't have many friends. So when the one friend, the one I leaned on, the one who I shared my most personal things with, just up and walks out of my life without a word? How do you think I took that? Not bloodly well, obviously. Ten years on, and here we are. I'm still confused. I'm still angry. Her snubbing me at the reunion in front of her friends was such a blow. I would have felt better if she'd had just punched me in the face.<br />
<br />
I know that it isn't my fault. But because of the way I am, and how my brain works, I keep trying to find what I did wrong. But it wasn't me. I didn't do anything wrong. Our non-friendship is not my fault. But I still blame myself. I couldn't just let it go. I need to just accept that I will never know the reason why she walked out on me. Perhaps now, after what transpired at the reunion, I can finally just let her go and move on. She obviously has.<br />
<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-86230625151720462722018-10-06T22:43:00.000-07:002018-12-13T23:06:10.920-08:00Let's Dig In: Depression Part I, Listen to the quiet ones<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There are many voices in my head. Some are loud. Some are mean. Some are dangerous. There's a quiet one. That quiet voice in my head was telling me I needed to come here. To this bench. In this park. I didn't know why. Only that I was to come and bring pad and pen. And so I listened to the quiet one and came. A short drive and a short walk to the spot. I had started a post about another favorite band, and I'll finish that one at some point but apparently this needed to come out first. This may be a sort of series with that favorite band as a part of, but we shall see. My brain doesn't always do what I want it to, as you will soon learn. (the band post is important to this. It got me to write this and got me to this bench)<br />
<br />
I have depression.<br />
<br />
And no, it didn't start when my mom got sick. And no, it didn't start when cancer took her from me. I don't know when I first realized I had something foreign in my head that I didn't have total control over. My guess is that I was in high school when I became aware. I did not like high school. It was not fun. (sort of ironic I'm going to the all-class 50th reunion next weekend) I wasn't bullied or ostracized, but I didn't have the best of times and never felt comfortable. Besides the typical teenage angst, I woke up spiritually. I started questioning the church and religion I was born and raised in. This made life extra confusing. But that's another post I may or may not get to in this series (it can always end up being a single chapter series).<br />
<br />
It has finally dawned on me that for the past two years my depression has gotten worse. From high school to two years ago (even during my mothers journey to death) I was always able to take control of that thing in my head and beat it down. Punch it in the gut. And climb out of the hole it would put me in. I developed over time, techniques to cope. Some times it was getting outside and soaking up vitamin D in the form of sunlight and nature. Music- listening to, playing, and creating. Writing. Being social- spending time with friends or playing sports.<br />
<br />
That all changed two years ago. I, of coarse didn't realize what was happening while it was slowly taking over control of my mind. It has a way of being sneaky. A few things have happened that jolted me into waking up, but I wasn't able to climb out of the hole this time. It was too deep. <a href="http://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2017/08/right-in-feelz-not-cool.html" target="_blank">Chester's</a> death by suicide was one of those times where I woke up and said, "shit, I'm really in a dark place. I need to get out of this". And for a bit I thought I got out. I thought I escaped and took control back. And maybe I did succeed in climbing out. But that hand reached out and caught my ankle and pulled me back down. That bastard. And without fully realizing it, I was back down in that hole in my mind and not in control. My thoughts were dark.<br />
<br />
*now listen. I will preface what I write next with this. I am not suicidal. I will not take my own life. This is not a cry for help*<br />
<br />
My thoughts were dark. I thought about suicide. How would I do it if I chose to finally end the war. Would I drive off the road? Would I take the entire bottle of pills and just go to sleep... forever? These questions would also lead to other questions about religion, faith, and the questions about an afterlife. Again thoughts on that will hopefully come in another post in this fictional series. I would spend my days sleeping and the nights awake. I gained 30 pounds. I stopped running. I slowly stopped hiking. I started eating crap. Drank soda again. I became anti-social. I would hole up in my room for days on end. Couldn't even shower. Working was difficult. I'm writing this like it is in the past, but I'm still in the hole, not in control. But I am aware. I'm awake. I'm woke.<br />
<br />
Two things changed two years ago. 1: I quit my job at the coffee house and went to work at my current employer *full time. This is important in that one of those key coping mechanisms that would help me take control was gone. Socializing. I hate socializing. I'm an introvert that thrives on quiet alone time. The friends I choose are few, but they know. The coffee house job forced me to communicate with the outside world. I love my current job and my co-workers and friends are precious to me. They are a life blood. But I work from home. Alone. I don't have to put on adult clothes, get in my car, and go into an office. I work alone. No outside world stimuli. 2: Because I quit my coffee house job, I lost my medical insurance which meant I no longer took birth control pills. An interesting side effect of the pill (depending on the person and the type of pill) is that it can either cause depression or it can act as an anti-depressant. For me, it acted as an anti-depressant. So unbeknownst to me, I was medicated for 15 years! And two years ago, I went off my meds.<br />
<br />
Thank the trees I live in California and make enough money to qualify for the ACA, I have medical insurance again. I'm seeing my doctor this week. Specifically for this. I'm woke and aware but I need help. I can't climb out of this hole on my own. Perhaps I never could, I just thought I could.<br />
<br />
Depression is someone that never dies. It adapts. It builds immunity's. It runs around in an infinite loop. It can take control of my mind. I've had this writers block or not wanting to take the time to write any of the things in my head. So it was preventing another of my outlets or coping mechanisms.<br />
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<br />
I'm dealing. I go for walks 3-4 times a week. I take showers (perhaps not frequently enough, but again, I don't have to go out in public much). I get my work done. I meet my deadlines. I see friends when I need to. I get out in nature when I need to. There's light when I look out of my hole. I can feel the breeze on my face. I will be okay. Know that I will be okay. Yes, I have depression. And it and I live together. We battle for control. It may have won the current battle, but for me life is a war. And I'm not done yet. I'm not done fighting. I'm just needing some new weapons.<br />
<br />
I got out today. I listened to the quiet one. Not the loud one that tells me bad things. Just listen... <br />
<br />
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Let's Dig In Series links: <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/11/at-it-again-not-quite-addict-with-pen.html" target="_blank">Obsession Part I</a> <a href="https://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2018/12/lets-dig-in-religion-part-i.html" target="_blank">Religion Part I</a>The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-70394681702074979972018-08-31T00:02:00.002-07:002018-08-31T00:02:59.696-07:00A Little Obsession Can Go A Long WayA little obsession is a good thing. Right? When I find something I like, which isn’t often, I obsess over it. It’s
all I'll listen to, or watch, or read about for an undetermined duration.
Until I work it out of my system or I've absorbed all that I can. These certain obsessions tend to happen at particular times in my life
when they are actually desperately needed. And mostly unbeknownst to me
that I needed them in the first place.<br />
<br />
A few examples:<br />
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Taft. I had a very real mental breakdown which I’ve written about before <a href="http://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2013/01/the-second-level-of-hell.html" target="_blank">HERE</a> and <a href="http://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2009/08/taft-other-hell.html" target="_blank">HERE</a> and
had I been a violent person, I would have punched holes in my hotel
walls. I needed to break something. And the physical pain involved in
punching walls sounded very appealing. So did screaming. But I didn’t. I kind of needed my hands to function. Music, and three particular songs, pumped
extremely loud into my earbuds on an endless loop was my only outlet that seemed to work or
I was willing to do and not incur damage fees or get kicked out of the hotel and loose my job. I completely scared my parents, and they drove down the next day to see me. I still like those three songs, however they now always remind me of that place and time in my life. I'm not haunted by it and it doesn't shut me down. In fact, I look back on it with pride. I survived. I came out of that experience a stronger and wiser person.<br />
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Chester Bennington's death. After Chester died, which I also wrote about <a href="http://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2017/08/right-in-feelz-not-cool.html" target="_blank">HERE</a>, I watched every single LPTV episode (that's Linkin Park TV for those not in the know), music videos, and making of videos they had ever produced, interviews, and performances. The sudden death of Chester was a wake up call that I hadn’t realized I needed, and how far down into the hole of depression I had fallen. I would listen to their music, every album, on a loop for weeks. I needed to understand, absorb, and mourn. His death and my obsession of everything LP helped me dig out (not completely) to a much safer state of mind.<br />
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Finding Killjoys. This I haven't written about. Killjoys is a Science Fiction TV show made and filmed in Canada that airs on SyFy here in the U.S. I discovered the show when the third season was about to air. So I immediately binged the first two seasons. Then I bought the first two seasons on itunes. After the third season aired, I then bought it as well. Then I started to collect the music from the show. I had downloaded so much Killjoys stuff from itunes in the span of a few weeks that my credit union thought my card was stolen and put a hold on it. Whoops. No, just me obsessing over something again. I need access back please. I don't know why, but watching the show and listening to the music just makes me happy. I made a Killjoys playlist. The music is all over the place. Pop, rock, techno, dance, folk, instrumental, indie galore. I found some really interesting and amazing artists through the experience. Season four is airing now (Summer 2018). Season five will be the last, which has been already planned and set in stone. So hopefully it won't end on an excruciating cliff hanger like so many SciFi shows have ended before.<br />
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Lastly, Thirty Seconds to Mars. I've known about them since their inception, but like many of their early critics, I sort of wrote them off. I only had one of their songs in my itunes. However, I have since come to my senses. The last three weeks have been nothing but Thirty Seconds to Mars being pumped happily into my ear holes. I've been watching Jared Leto movies, interviews, videos, and documentaries. Whatever your thoughts are, that guy is freakishly talented. And all things Church of Mars. If you're a fan (or should I say Echelon), you get it. If not, it sort of looks like a cult from the outside. Anyway what has the current obsession with 30STM done? It’s realizing that if I want to realize my dreams, ambitions, and aspirations I have to make the effort and get up off my ass and do something about them. Whether that’s loosing all this weight I gained, or doing good work at work, or putting effort into my creative work. The only thing stopping me is me. I put these limitations on myself and I have to remove them. That it's okay to be obsessive. It's okay to dream. It's okay to dream big. And it's okay to just go for it. Complete Liberation. So get up off your ass, work hard, and turn those dreams into reality.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sidenote: I find it interesting that I tend to like bands that have very strong critics. People either love them or hate them. It was true for Linkin Park, and still is for Thirty Seconds to Mars. To me, both had/have interesting and positive things to say and were/are innovators and not scared to explore new things and experiment. The critics and nay-sayers be damned.<br />
<br />
So all that is to say, a little obsession is good for the mind, body, and soul. So let your freak flag fly. Take pride and ownership of your obsessions. Just don't get arrested.The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-84389588198492754362018-03-12T02:19:00.000-07:002018-03-12T02:19:04.423-07:00The Last Road Trip of Mom's Car Part III: The Final Chapter?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Day 9<br />
Engine Mileage: 222065<br />
Trip Mileage: 2410.3<br />
Gallatin, Tennessee to Raleigh, North Carolina<br />
<br />
This ended up being the second longest day of driving, but thankfully, also our last. We left the cold and frozen Tennessee early. The Hotards tried to feed us breakfast and pack us full of beverages. We should have said yes. But, after many polite refusals, they finally relented and reluctantly sent us on our way. <br />
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By now we had finished both seasons of Revisionist History podcast, and we moved on to Ridiculous History. Are you sensing a theme? We moved between quite and the podcast. We stopped a lot to stretch our legs. <br />
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Dad drove us over The Great Smokey Mountains, and I took a lot of pictures. <br />
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Of course I missed the trail head sign for the Appalachian Trail. We came around a bend, and again totally missed getting a picture of the North Carolina sign. I did get some of Maggie Valley, which is where an Aunt of mine lived for about 7 years. <br />
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I sent her this picture when we passed and told her where we were. A lengthy text conversation ensued about this and that, as one does with this said Aunt. <br />
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Texted the Flying Squirrel Nephew, that we had finally crossed the last state line. Also texted Big Sis, that we were not going to get to the airport in time to pick her up. She was flying in for the weekend! Once into North Carolina, we noticed lots of road work, traffic, and accidents.
North Carolina drivers are horrendous! Big Sis landed at 4:30, and Uber-ed to the hotel from the airport. Dad and I finally got to the hotel at
6:45. We were beat, and not looking forward to even more driving to pick up Flying Squirrel Nephew. We met up with Big Sis, who had already checked us in, in her (and I) room. She informed us that Flying Squirrel Nephew could not wait any longer and had hitched a ride with a friend who was coming up to Raleigh to take his girlfriend on a date. A great sigh of relief was heard across the entire state. We had just decided to go eat at the restaurant in the hotel when Flying Squirrel Nephew texted that he had arrived, not 10 minutes later. <br />
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We all ate downstairs in the hotel
restaurant. I ate some leafy greens to try and get my system back on track (I don't think it worked, but I tried). Everyone was tired, and so we all crashed for the night.<br />
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<br />
Day10<br />
Engine Mileage: 222571<br />
Final Trip Mileage: 2916.9 <br />
Raleigh<br />
We all slept
in. I wandered downstairs to get coffee. We gathered in Big Sis and I's
room and putz a bit and googled where to get the oil changed in the Infinity. Flying Squirrel Nephew just HAD to
drive us to get the oil changed. He had pinched a nerve in his neck and couldn't really rotate his head, so it was a bit scary for the rest of us. <br />
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Dad asked the guys at the oil place about where to get chains for the car and they just laughed. They said that it hardly ever snows there and when it does, even just a tiny bit, the Governor declares a State of Emergency and the entire state shuts down. Flying Squirrel Nephew confirmed this, and the shop guys all nodded their heads in agreement. So after all the fussing about chains the entire length of the country, the Infinity never did get any. We then went to CVS for Doans and Lidocane
patches for Flying Squirrel Nephew. The Girl Scouts were stationed outside the CVS, and Flying Squirrel Nephew told them
we'd hit them up on our way out. We certainly did. He bought 10
boxes, 5 each of thin mints and peanut butter patties. I bought one box
of Peanut butter patties, because I didn't want to share. And Sis bought a
box each of thin mints and peanut butter patties. I think we made their
day. Certainly worth standing out there in the cold, freezing their
little butts off. On the way out at a stop light, I saw this at the Marathon
Gas Station. "Fried Gizzards/Lizards". <br />
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Yup. Then we went to lunch, but
not at the Marathon Gas Station. We went to a place called Two Guys Grille, that had a Hawaii surf theme and fish tacos. Okay.<br />
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Their dipping sauce for the sweet potato fries was very sweet and cinnamon heavy. Big Sis loved it, I ate mine plain. I hit up their bathroom, and then we were off to Flying Squirrels favorite place ever, Wish Upon a
Quilt. He stayed in the car. Lame. <br />
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Big Sis got her License Plate and Row by Row. Back in the Infinity, Dad and I in the back (we were done with driving), decided to check out Historic Yates Mill Historic Park. No entrance fees. Score! <br />
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Big Sis and I took butt loads of pictures, marveled at the construction, and read all the plaques and signage. <br />
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They still had their display up for Groundhog Day, and they were pretty snarky about it. Flying Squirrel Nephew looked cold and bored and so we asked the park docent where she thought we should go next. We decided on Mordecai Historic Park. Again, free admission. <br />
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We got there and forced Flying Squirrel Nephew to take his picture with the Infinity. <br />
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Walked over to the gift shop/museum/information center for them to tell us they were closing. Boo. <br />
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We walked around the museum section for about 5 minutes and then we were asked to leave. So we were able to walk around all the buildings and such, but couldn't go inside any of them. Oh Well. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDAB_eAtuhJxosdqm6yfcs7Bm9wmdTBqUNg_IzjUA7Jp2h20KdMHLD6d9GjVmrXz1bND5eRyer2OJfVPxkLF-FHn_D4HcP12r2ozuiazl5vZxap1YVqhFRrlu065FMd6-xZcYLqYQ06dg/s1600/IMG_1284+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDAB_eAtuhJxosdqm6yfcs7Bm9wmdTBqUNg_IzjUA7Jp2h20KdMHLD6d9GjVmrXz1bND5eRyer2OJfVPxkLF-FHn_D4HcP12r2ozuiazl5vZxap1YVqhFRrlu065FMd6-xZcYLqYQ06dg/s320/IMG_1284+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is Andrew Johnson's house, not it's original location however</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5m-EDXqID4135khtJJmThPH9jw24aUom2pMaGemWrmv93eT76MUFC0Ja2FETSSrzBsxDTWnrwwSgt11WQCnrlaEDGZet9-0yrIFBoNP0HXYXlFa_MkjaB4wlt_9LwJb21qVn4tpABZ8-X/s1600/IMG_2793+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5m-EDXqID4135khtJJmThPH9jw24aUom2pMaGemWrmv93eT76MUFC0Ja2FETSSrzBsxDTWnrwwSgt11WQCnrlaEDGZet9-0yrIFBoNP0HXYXlFa_MkjaB4wlt_9LwJb21qVn4tpABZ8-X/s320/IMG_2793+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mordecai Plantation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But by now Flying Squirrel Nephew was over getting educated. And so we left and did exciting things like run some errands for him at Best Buy
and Target. So exciting. Had dinner at Brixx Pizza. He was feeling pretty good and drove us back to the hotel, and
we played cards in the boys room.<br />
<br />
Day 11<br />
We all slept in again.
It rained for most of the day. We found a Massage Envy for Flying Squirrel Nephew, who's appointment was at 1pm. So we went across the parking lot for lunch at Bob Evan's (we all had breakfast),
apparently the place to be. It was quite tasty. I wanted to keep eating, but my stomach couldn't hold anymore. Those biscuits were super yummy. While Flying Squirrel Nephew was getting elbowed in the back,
we went to another Target (to find him a space heater) and filled up the Infinity... for the last time
(sniff sniff). Flying Squirrel Nephew came out of Massage Envy with the largest grin on his face. He said it hurt like hell, but that he felt great! We then went to Apex North Carolina to visit with friends
of Big Sis whom she hadn't seen in 20 years! They told us we had to eat at
Smithfields Chicken N' Bar-B-Q, and so after our visit we went off to find one. Good
fried chicken. Hush puppies aren't worth writing home about though. After
dinner, we came back to the hotel (double checked that we got everything out
of the car that was ours) and played cards and watched the super bowl...
commercials. <br />
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The game ended up being pretty good, so we often got distracted by football during our card game. Too soon it was time for Flying Squirrel Nephew to head back to base. We walked him down to
the lobby and gave him hugs to last till the next time we get to see
him. And told him to text his mommy when he gets back to base. It was hard to say goodbye, but surprisingly it was hard to say goodbye to the Infinity too. Dad, Big Sis, and I asked for a late check-out, and walked back up to our rooms and Big Sis and I watched the Puppy Bowl. It was silly. And cheesy. So much so, that we had to turn it off.<br />
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Day 12<br />
We slept in once again. And today, we fly home. But first, lunch... at the hotel restaurant. We then took the airport shuttle to the airport. It's tiny. The airport, not the shuttle. There was no line at security. I got stopped of course. Got a pat down because I have patch on my pants that covers a hole. And I forgot to take my ipad out of the bag. But whatever. We have time to kill, because our plane doesn't leave till 5pm. So we walk the terminal a few times, and then sit down in the food court and eat onion rings and play cards. <br />
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We fly 800 miles to Chicago (Midway), and circle for 20 minutes while they plow the runways. It's snowing. We land just fine, and pull up to the gate. <br />
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Once inside we look at the departures and see that we are delayed 2 hours plus our initial 1 hour layover. Ugh... And so we walk the terminals and the food court. Big Sis and I decide on the Irish pub and Dad gets a sub sandwich. We eat in the pub, and then walk some more. I texted Artist Nephew, who had been taking care of the cats, that he needed to let them inside, one last time. We need chocolate, so into the sweets shop and out with candy and chocolate. We sit in the food court and play more cards. Because we have hours to kill.<br />
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We walk back down the terminal to our gate and settle in, to hear we've been moved to a gate on the other side of the terminal. Yay. We walk back down to the other side. Our plane finally arrives and we get to board. We watch our luggage get loaded. It has snow it. <br />
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So I think, wouldn't it be funny (not really) if the ginormous bath bomb I got from the Hotards gets so wet that it explodes? It didn't, by the way. We then sat there for another 15 minutes while we got de-iced. That was a new one. <br />
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We were finally in the air by 11pm. And so the last 2,166 miles back to San Jose was underway. That last flight was the longest four and a half hours of my life. The only saving grace was that the plane was only half full so everyone got to spread out and got extra snacks from the flight crew. I started to go a bit stir crazy, and made what I thought was a hilarious video.<br />
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But my god, my legs hurt. We landed around 1:30am. We were the last flight in. Interesting to see an empty airport. They were waxing the floors. Big Sis' Big Man came and picked us up. We got home around 2:30am. Artist Nephew left the cats in the house, and they promptly ignored me. I unpacked. Bath bomb mostly intact. I had asked Artist Nephew to wash my sheets, since he had been sleeping in my bed, and I put them in the dryer. I showered because I felt gross. I made my bed. The cats finally came out of their hiding places. I noticed that Quirk's eye was swollen. So Dad pinned him down, and I tried to put goop in his eye. He didn't like it, of course. I crawled into bed at 4am. Trip over.<br />
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end note: A week later Dad got a call from Flying Squirrel Nephew. He asked, "what does the maintenance required light mean"? He figured out that a sensor went bad, and needed to be replaced. So, luckily it wasn't anything major. And then just a few days ago, this happened.<br />
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A private didn't know how to back out of a parking spot and ripped the Infinitiy's back bumper off. How he didn't realize he hit the car next to him is beyond me. I guess he just committed and went for it. So is this the end of its life? We don't think so. Flying Squirrel Nephew for the time being, drives it with the bumper in the back seats. The insurance will pay to get it fixed (or salvaged), and a new bumper will get put on. The infinity will live on to drive Flying Squirrel Nephew to where he needs to go for a little bit longer.<br />
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Other end note: Quirk ended up having an abscess on his head that had drained into his eye. So he got a reverse mohawk haircut, his abscess flushed, and two shots. He didn't like me that day. But he's better now, and his fur has grown back.<br />
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And so I will leave and finally end this story with this: Mom certainly knew how to pick a good road trip car. Her last pick, this Infinity, was probably her best. It was hard to say goodbye. It was worth spending the money and time driving it across the country, one last time. We rest assured that it is with family, being used, and cared for. That bumper will get fixed! And leave you with a place my mom had a great adventure with the Infinity. Out on the prairie with the greasewood and rabbits. The birth place and homestead where my Grandma lived in a tiny speck of a town called Bill, Wyoming.<br />
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<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-53193411392700043972018-02-20T00:40:00.000-08:002018-02-20T00:48:54.687-08:00The Last Road Trip of Mom's... Car Part II: My Butt HurtsSorry I've left you all stranded in New Mexico for so long. Who knew Albuquerque would be so enthralling. I apologize to anyone who lives/has lived/or actually likes Albuquerque. We arrived in the dark, and my room overlooked a truck lot and a freeway. And the drive out in the morning did not improve my impression. But on with the show. Get your compression socks on, because we are in for the long hauls! <br />
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Day 6<br />
Engine Mileage: 220809<br />
Trip Mileage: 1154.1<br />
Albuquerque, New Mexico to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma<br />
We decided to leave Albuquerque early (7am). It was going to be a long drive. I estimated a bit over 8 hours. And so we continued heading east on I-40. Not much to see. A bit overcast, a bit cold, and a bit windy. I had given up on trying to play any music on the ipod nano through the cassette tape player adapter thingy. Can't enjoy tunes when all you hear is static. I'm bummed because I spent time compiling playlists and moving songs on or off the ipod, and deciding what I could subject my father too without assaulting his ears. So I plugged in my other ipod nano (I just have way too much stuff to fit on just one) and we listened to podcasts. We started with season 1 of Revisionist History with Malcolm Gladwell. <br />
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We stopped somewhere at a truck stop just shy of the Texas border and refueled and emptied bladders and switched off. We get to the Texas state line and these buttheads were parked in front of the sign.<br />
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We actually saw it coming this time and we're completely prepared and they ruined it. Assholes. Oh well, it's just Texas. Not much to see in the pan handle. I had been through here long ago when my mother drove what became my very first car (a maroon Mazda 323, 4-door, stick shift, no cruise control or power steering car) my brother aged 15 and myself aged 11 out to Altus Arkansas where my grandfather lived on some 50+ acres. That was a great car, but not a great road trip car. Mom's right foot got so swollen from all that driving. No one knew about compression socks back then, and I think she demanded that her next car would have cruise control. And just like before, I was bored with Texas.<br />
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Anyway, I drove and drove and drove. There really is nothing out there. We stopped for lunch in some tiny place where the Taco Bell was attached to the gas station, and practically blew over. I was afraid the doors on the Infinity would blow off if I wasn't careful. And it was a cold wind, to boot. We coastal valley Californian's don't do cold. While eating taco's we begin to receive texts from the Okla-Arkies (our hosts, for the night) about our dinner options. If any of you know us at all (and they do), we loath having to make decisions, especially about dinner. It can take us hours sometimes to decide on what or where to eat. Jokes ensue back and forth, and I finally pick one of the three choices I was given. And all of Texas rejoiced. Back on the road, and I'm ready to cross the next state line. And just like that, I miss it. Of coarse Oklahoma has to be different and not have a sign like every other state in the union. I again failed. This is what it looks like however: <br />
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I get the lady in my phone to tell us how to get to Okla-Arkie's house. And she got us there, no problem. We arrive a bit before 7pm. Just about 10 hours of sitting in the Infinity. My butt hurt. We chat a bit with Okla and Arkie. And they take us out to dinner at a place called Ann's Chicken Fry House, known for their chicken fried steak. <br />
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Okla, Arkie, and dad all order the steak, and me thinking that it would be too much order a club sandwich. My meal ended up being the biggest. Go figure. Ann's is a cool place. Decked out in 50's attire where you're allowed to write on the walls. And so, we found a spot and left our mark. <br />
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Once back at the house, it was time to play cards. Ms. Okla lost. Big time. She went to bed a woman scorned but determined to avenge herself the next day. I went to bed in a forest... of Christmas trees! Instead of schlepping the trees into the attic every year, Okla and Archie decided it'd be easier to just store them in the second guest room. Seems legit to me. All they have to do next holiday season is bring them out, do a bit of fluffing, add ornaments, and wham-bam-thank you-mame, it's done. No more jamming them through a tiny attic hole or going up and down a ladder. Much easier. And I didn't mind sleeping amongst the trees at all.<br />
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Day 7<br />
A bit of who Okla and Arkie are. We first met them in the late 90's when they came to be pastors at the church my family went to in San Jose. They have a daughter my age. Finally someone my age to play with. Too bad we were both in college, her in Oklahoma, and me in California. They were missionaries in Brazil before, and before that, pastors in Oklahoma. Okla is of course from Oklahoma and became fast friends with my mom. Arkie is, as figured by now, from Arkansas. He and dad also became good friends and confidants. Epic card games would happen at each others houses. They vacationed together. Spent many wedding anniversaries together (only a week or so apart). Through thick and thin, while they were pastors in San Jose, our two families were there for each other. Often showing up unannounced at the door, and just in time for whatever was needed. A hug, a cry, comfort, support, or companionship, or just a game of cards. It was difficult saying goodbye when they left and moved back to Oklahoma to become a District Superintendent in the church. My mom even drove their car out to them when they moved. Who wouldn't want to drive a convertible across four states! When mom passed away, they both came out and spoke/helped lead her memorial service. The loss of them moving away deeply affected my parents, and of course the loss of my mom was devastating to Okla and Arkie. But life continues on, and so do friendships.<br />
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Okla made us breakfast. Delish, and I got my coffee! We chatted around the breakfast table and then it was a game of cards. They then took us out and about town to fancy places like Auto Zone and O'Reilly's to try and find chains for the Infinity. No luck. It doesn't snow enough in Oklahoma City for them to stock chains. Even in the winter. We then went to Best Buy to try and find cassette tape deck cleaners. No one stocks them anymore. Not even sure you can find them on the internet anymore either. We were hoping to clean the heads so the music could flow. Oh well. I gave them directions to a quilt shop and made them experience what visiting quilt shops are like. <br />
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I asked the old ladies for what my sister wants, and dad explained and took Okla and Arkie through the shop showing them the machines, rooms for different things, and such. It's kind of entertaining watching my dad explain quilting and sewing to people. I got my sister a license plate and row by row from the shop and Okla and Arkie got educated. It was then way past time for lunch. They took us to one of their favorite places that has, according to them, the best whiskey cake. So of course we had desert. We then went back home and of course played cards again. <br />
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Okla never did win a game, but she didn't loose quite so bad. They showed us a game they play with their Oklahoma card friends. I can't remember the name now, Wisconsin something. I'm sure they will remind me. It was fun. And the day was gone, just like that. It was late, and dad and I had the longest stretch of road to do the next day. Unfortunately for me, I did not sleep well or much that night. The trip was catching up to me. (read into that how ever you like)<br />
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Day 8<br />
Engine Mileage: 221336<br />
Trip Mileage: 1681.7<br />
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma to Gallatin, Tennessee<br />
I put on my compression socks. Okla and Arkie said goodbye to us and the Infinity, and we were on the road by 7:15.<br />
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Dad started out driving. He ended up doing most of the driving this day because I felt like crap. We watched the sun rise over Oklahoma. <br />
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Crossed into Arkansas. Look, I got that one!<br />
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The sky was becoming more overcast the farther east we go. We passed the exit to my Grandpa's old place. His ashes are partly scattered there. (his other half are scattered in Alaska)We stopped in Arkansas for lunch. We were going to hit up the Wendy's that was advertised at the highway exit, but it wasn't there. We drove down the road and kept going. There was a sign that said Wendy's was this way, and so we turned... and kept driving. There was another sign saying it was another 2.5 miles, and we both went, nope. Turned around and just went to the McDonald's. This McDonald's was fancy. They had these order machines and attendants that would help you order on their fancy machines. Most people didn't know how to use them. I decided this was probably a pilot store location for this fancy self ordering thing. They would then bring you your meal. I didn't eat much, again I felt crappy. We were now onto Season 2 of Revisionist History podcast. Crossed
the Mississippi River, <br />
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and almost missed the Tennessee sign. <br />
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Okay, kinda did miss
it. Once passed the Mississippi River, it was the farthest east I have
ever been via an automobile. We didn't take the time to mark the milestone. There was a lot of driving still to do. I noticed a lot of nests in trees. It is nesting
season! Thought I saw two baby bird heads sticking out of one, can't be
sure though, we were going pretty fast. <br />
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A few hours out of Nashville, I start communicating with the Hotard's. They decide it would be good to meet us in Hendersonville for dinner, and then we could follow them to their house. Once into Tennessee, it started to rain. A lot. We pull into the Chili's parking lot in Hendersonville around 7:30pm. Dad had never met the Hotard's. So I made the introductions, and we ate. I was hungry by then. It was still cold and rainy. We follow the Hotard's to Gallatin, which is a little country suburb of a suburb of Nashville. Dad and I stand around, not wanting to sit anymore today. And the Hotard's and their broad of animals (Tux and Bella, the dogs, and Thor the cat who thinks he's a dog) try to get us comfortable. There was no amount of anything offered that would unstiffen our legs, or ease the tired. Their Alexa got a few spankings. Dad was worried about the weather. It was going to freeze that night. And we didn't have chains for the tires. I downloaded a weather/road conditions app onto my fancy phone. That seemed to ease his worry a bit. Dad was a walking zombie, and got shown his room for the night and was soon out like a light, not to stir until morning. It was the longest day ever. 12 hours. The hotard's and I stayed up late talking. Basically until we started falling asleep sitting up. I went to my room and laid down on the most softest cloud of a bed ever and had the best sleep of the trip so far.<br />
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A note about who the Hotard's are and why it is acceptable for me to call them this: I met them online in a fan message board for a little TV show that no one has heard of in 2007. There are four of us that make up the Hotards. (pronounced Hoe-tards) These two crazy ladies currently in Gallatin Tennessee, a crazy Jewish New Yorker, and myself. We met online, and became fast friends and met in person for the first time when myself and the really crazy half of the Tennessee duo flew to New York for the very first New York ComicCon where the actors from the little show we were crazy about were going to be. It was a crazy 48 hours of my life. We found each other in the Newark airport and we just knew. Ever since the first in person meeting, we try and get together somewhere every few years. We've been to New Orleans, back to New York for crazy Jewish New Yorker's marriage to a CATHOLIC, Nashville, to me in California, they went to Rome without me, Chicago (twice), and we're currently planning our next trip. We call ourselves Hotards because when we went to New Orleans, there's a bus line called Hotards (pronounced hot-ards), and every time we'd see a Hotard bus, we'd scream HOTARDS (hoe-tards). This is the nice picture I took with a Hotard bus in New Orleans in 2009. I won't subject you nice people to the other one.<br />
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And well, the name seemed to fit our crazy friendship. Each one of us is extremely different, and yet we fit together like puzzle pieces. If asked, or not, any one of us would hop on a plane in an instant for each other.<br />
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Ok, that was more than a little note. On to day 9! But later. This is taking me forever to write. Sorry this will be in three parts instead of two. But we made it to Tennessee! Almost there!<br />
<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-4010432554673693702018-02-07T22:07:00.001-08:002018-02-09T00:23:26.853-08:00The Last Road Trip of My Mom's... Car Part I: Let us PrayIt all began long ago on a dark and stormy night in March. No it didn't. I decided to buy a new car. An all electric car. It only took three months to actually get said car, and a whopping six days of ownership to wreck it. But that's not the point of this story. I talked with Artist Nephew about my old car. I asked if he wanted it. He had been driving my mom's old car, an Infinity, ever since she had her first surgery on the tumor in her arm. After she passed, my dad transferred ownership of the Infinity to Artist Nephew. So he's had this car for over three years now. But it is old (2001), is a land yacht by millennial standards, even Gen-X standards for what it's worth (or a Grandma car), and takes premium gas. So it's expensive. My old car, on the other hand, is still old (2004), is an economy, compact, stripped down, nothing fancy, cheap gas, and most importantly stick shift, Saturn Ion. Which means, it is cheaper to maintain and fun to drive. Artist Nephew weighed the pro's and con's of both vehicles, and chose to accept my gift. Now Artist Nephew does not need two cars AND two motorcycles. So, what to do with the Infinity? Flying Squirrel Nephew piped up and asked if he could have it. Flying Squirrel Nephew is in the Army. He jumps out of planes and hopes his shoot opens. He's also stationed in North Carolina. We're all in California! And so the planning began. Mostly during Christmas when Flying Squirrel Nephew got leave to come home for the holidays. Our options were to sell the Infinity, and give money to Flying Squirrel Nephew to buy a cheap car in North Carolina or drive the Infinity out to him and fly home. But would it make it out there? Can we get it there... in winter? Do we want to spend more money than the car is worth to get it up to shape and out there to him? The answer: hell yeah. Let's do this!<br />

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But first a little background on the Infinity:<br />
Back when it was time for mom and dad to get a new car (almost two decades ago), the only requirement from my mother was that it needed to be comfortable and a good road trip car. Color? Didn’t care. Make and model? Didn’t care. New or used? Didn’t care. Now to be a good road trip car, it needed comfy seats, cruise control, and a good stereo system. And so, the 2001 Infinity was purchased. Mom took that car on countless trips. It went to Wyoming and back who knows how many times. Arkansas and back at least twice. Up and down the west coast, and even to the east coast and back once. She loved that car. She made many a road trip CD. After she had her elbow replacement surgery from the tumor, she was looking forward to being able to drive again. She never did get enough use out of that arm, and so was never able to drive again. She hated that. She loved to drive, and drive, and drive. That was a freedom painfully lost. And so the Infinity sat in the driveway. As her cancer worsened, getting in and out of the car became more and more difficult. And so it sat even more in the driveway. Trips to the hospital and doctors were done in the truck. So that the car would get used, she asked her grandson (Artist Nephew) if he wanted to drive it. He gladly took it on. He called it his grandma car, when his friends would make fun of it. He was proud of it. It’s a great car! Now that Artist Nephew has my old Saturn Ion, it was time to take the last road trip of moms Infinity. The last great road trip car.<br />

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<br />
Let us begin.<br />
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Day 1:<br />
Engine Mileage: 219655<br />
Trip Mileage: 0.0<br />

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Dad did his normal routine of checking everything twice. Clean this, check that, fix this, did I pack that routine. Steering wheel cover, and seat covers were installed (because the car is old and the leather interior is decomposing), all while I gave my kitty's a last scratch behind the ears and snuggles, and washed my sheets for Artist Nephew who will be taking care of said kitty's while dad and I are away.<br />
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We finally start down the road at 11:30, after I figure out how to take a selfie.<br />
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I need more practice obviously. Dad starts us off down the road. We don't get very far before we need to pull off to check one more thing. <br />
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Then it's, "where are my sunglasses"? I plug my ipod nano into the cassette tape adapter player and begin the road trip with Jack Johnson... a very static-y Jack Johnson. We continue down the road. Highway 152, over Pacheco Pass and past San Luis Reservoir, and onto I-5.<br />
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We trade off after a glamorous lunch at MacDonald's. Continue on over the Grapevine to the 210 Freeway to the slow crawl of traffic. Once past San Bernardino, on to surface streets around and about and up the mountain to Oak Glen steeped in fog. We make it to our first layover stop of the trip. As I put the Infinity into park, it revs its engine. Hmmm. Dad is concerned. I turn it off and turn it back on, just like you do with computers. It seemed to work. It idled at a normal RPM. Phew.<br />

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Day 2: At Shiny Happy People's<br />
You may remember Shiny Happy People (SHP) from the previous road trip blog in Tallulah Mae, the RV. We've known and been great friends with SHP since before I was born. They are the type of friends that you may not see for years, yet when you do actually get to see each other again, it's like no time has passed. And if something bad happens, they are the first to respond and be there for you. The day mom passed away, they got in their car and drove up to see her and be with us. They were with us when she took her last breathe. But on to this visit. Dad and I slept in (8:30am) which is really late for SHP. They normally get up at 5am. Yeah, they're insane. I get a cup of coffee. Ahh. Dad and I bring in the gifts Artist Nephew made. They had commissioned Artist Nephew while on the maiden voyage of Tallulah Mae, for six more mugs. He had made and given them two mugs while on that road trip. Artist Nephew got to work and made six new mugs. He didn't like how they turned out (typical artist) and made six more. These he liked. He had also made a vase, a beautiful vase, and wanted to give it to them as a gift.<br />
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Well they were a HUGE hit. Lady SHP was almost moved to tears. We then show them the two bags full of oranges Sis picked from her tree for them. That didn't warrant a picture. They then take us to <a href="http://rileysfarm.com/" target="_blank">Riley's Farm</a> for breakfast. <br />
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We forget that it's a Friday and the place is loaded with school buses and elementary school kids getting educated about colonial America. Our waiter is dressed in colonial garb, and we watch the school kids learn how to march and shoot rifles (long sticks) from the window.<br />
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We chat, and chat, and chat. After the third refill of coffee, we decide it's probably time to leave. We head off down the mountain to Kaiser where gentleman SHP needs to get a shot and pick up his prescription. While the men wait at Kaiser, lady SHP and I head over to Toys R' Us to try and find Rook cards. <br />
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We were unsuccessful, but did find her favorite store, Tuesday Mornings, and walked the isles, and picked up a few things. <br />
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We decided we'd better go pick up the guys, and so went back to Kaiser. Found them sitting in the waiting room, still waiting to get his shot. Apparently they close that station for lunch. So we sat. Didn't take long once they were open again, so back up the mountain we went. <br />
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We ate snacks and played cards (plain ole playing cards since our hunt for Rook cards was unsuccessful). Soon it was time for dinner. We went to the local Mexican restaurant, and on the way watched the sun set. <br />
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It wasn't bad, but I get better Chili Relleno's back home at our favorite place. Of course our stay wasn't long enough. SHP's place is like staying at a retreat. Relaxing, comfortable, and never long enough.<br />

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Day 3:<br />
Engine Mileage: 220051<br />
Trip Mileage: 396.9<br />
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SHP make us breakfast. And we chat for as long as possible. We decide we have to leave by 11:30am. We have SHP take a picture with the Infinity. We have to document with whom and where it went on it's last road trip.</div>
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The lady in my phone navigates us to the I-10, and away we go to Phoenix, Arizona. I forget to get a picture of the Arizona State line. So here's the picture I took of it from Tallulah Mae last year.<br />
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Just imagine it being 20 degrees cooler. We stopped at a Love's Travel Center for lunch (they had a Subway Sandwich inside). We are such gastric adventurers. Dad took over driving, and away we continued. <br />
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We had traveled this route before with Tallulah Mae. And just like before, we missed the on-ramp to the 202. The lady in my phone told us the wrong lane. No matter, just like before, we turn around and get it right the second time. Arrive in Queen Creek at Big Bro's gate at 6:00pm. I text him for the code to get into his "community". We wait, and wait. Someone finally pulls up behind us and uses their fancy gate clicker, and we drive on in. We pull up to the house just in time for my brother to finally text me the gate code. The Lover of Derivatives Nephew and Sis'n'law were the only ones home. Big Bro was out shopping, and Big Red Nephew was at the mall with friends ( he got his license recently and just like every other 16 year old on the planet just has to drive somewhere because he can). Apparently Big Bro thought that when I told him we'd be there by 6pm, figured I didn't calculate for the time change. Silly Big Bro, such a doofus. I spent 9 years in college, I think I can calculate arrival times in the correct time zones (also, the lady in my phone told me). Anyway, Lover of Derivatives Nephew made us all dinner. Yeah for 20 year old males knowing how to cook a meal! After dinner he showed us how to play his favorite game, The Sheriff of Nottingham. We chatted some more, watched some mind numbing tv, then went to bed.<br />

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Day 4: At Big Bro's<br />
We lounged about. <br />
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Dad fussed about the car, so Big Bro and dad drove it around a bit and went and got transmission fluid and filled it up. It was having some high idle issues. I went with them to Home Depot for grass seed and fertilizer. Big Bro fertilized his backyard and spread seed around in his dead spots. I watched from the comfort of their lounge chairs on their patio. We went for a walk around the neighborhood (the loop he takes the dogs on). <br />
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Dad's not doing Tai Chi, he's just talking with his hands. We sat around some more. Big Bro called in to work and got someone to cover his shift (he works nights), so we got to spend more time with him. Aww. We all went to dinner at a place called Oregano’s. Came back and hung out around the fire pit in the backyard. <br />
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Then we played cards. Big Bro won. Bastard. But maybe justice was served, since I sat on my ass and watched him tend his yard earlier. <br />
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We completely forgot to get a picture of them with the Infinity. Sis'n'law was already in bed asleep because she was sick (always sick when you work with preschool kids) and had to get up early and go to work the next day. It was dark, so excuse their rabid racoon eyes. <br />
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We said our goodbyes to Big Red Nephew that night too because he had to go to school early the next morning. Big Bro and I ate our dinner leftovers and chatted and watched more mind numbing tv.<br />
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Day 5:<br />
Engine Mileage: 220411<br />
Trip Mileage: 756.9<br />
Dad and I get up, Big Bro and Lover of Derivatives Nephew get up long enough to feed the animals and see us off. They both probably went back to bed after safely seeing us depart at 10:30am. The lady in my phone told us how to get to I-40 from Queen Creek, Arizona. She got a bit upset when we turned right into a gas station instead of left where she wanted us to go. She got persistent about following her route. She can get quite the attitude. <br />
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We tootled along northeast up to I-40. We climbed and climbed up into pine forests and snow! <br />
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Our first glimpse that it's actually winter. We drove through Navajo land. Got depressed. <br />
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Since I was driving, dad was in charge of using my phone to take the picture of the New Mexico state sign as we crossed the border. He fretted about it, but he did get a picture taken of the sign. Five, in fact. Two of which were actually decent, so go dad! <br />
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We stopped in Gallup for lunch and gas. Maybe this was the day we ate Subway... I can't remember. We switched, and dad drove us the rest of the way to Albuquerque. We crossed the continental divide along the way. <br />
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Sure didn't feel like we were that high. I turned the lady in my phone back on, and she got us to the hotel for the night. Sis had made the hotel reservation, and she got us two rooms. I was expecting to share with dad. He said, when he travels with sis that they get separate rooms, so okay. That was an unexpected pleasant surprise. Go sis! We settled a bit in our rooms then headed out for dinner. We live it up a little and eat at Applebee's (yeah 2 for $20 dinners). Our waitress thought we were nuts to drive all the way to North Carolina. She said, she'd pray for us. She must have, because we did make it obviously. I was able to connect to the hotel wifi with my phone, but not my laptop. 😞 Dad didn’t have any problems. Why me? So I used the wifi in my phone to get on the internet with my laptop and quickly downloaded the phone photo’s I sent myself and the portion of the blog I had already written so I could work on it offline. I didn't figure out the airdrop function till much later. I guess me and technology still have some issues we have to work out. I slept good. Dad did not.<br />
The end.<br />
Just kidding. Who plans a trip to Albuquerque? We aren't even half way through the country yet.<br />
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Part II coming to you soon... I hope.The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-19570566269210832252017-08-01T01:51:00.000-07:002017-08-01T02:01:42.715-07:00Right in the Feelz – Not cool<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Apparently I am horrible at labeling my own blog posts, because I couldn't find what I was looking for, and finally had to resort to a word search through the entire catalog. Finally found it only to discover, I never really talked about it much. I thought I had. Well, I'm doing it now! Also I have a lot of dead links to fix.<br />
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First off, I had been kicking around in my head for over a year now a post about a few "rock" band singers that usually scream or otherwise distort their voice that actually have beautiful singing voices. Muse front man, Matt Bellamy, Disturbed's David Draiman, even James Hetfield of Metallica before he blew his voice, and then of course the one and only Chester Bennington, the main singer of Linkin Park. He was going to be front and center. I say was because he committed suicide last Thursday (July 20th, 2017). There have been quite a few celebrity/famous deaths recently (famous people are always dying, just like the rest of us), but his hit me hard. Really hard. I was utterly shocked. I didn't want it to be true. I couldn't listen to any of their music for almost a week. I couldn't bring myself to do it. His death hit me more than Robin Williams did back in August of 2014. I wrote about that a <a href="http://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2014/08/letting-out-silent-killer.html" target="_blank">bit here</a>. Celebrity deaths don't really bother me too much. Carrie Fisher's was hard, but hers wasn't a suicide. But Chester... I don't know... god, I loved his music. And thinking about his wife, kids, and his friends/band mates just makes me even sadder. I have briefly talked about the band here before. That's what I was searching my blog for in the first place. <a href="http://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2010/02/in-mean-time.html" target="_blank">Here</a> and <a href="http://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-peak-challenge-music-week-8.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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Secondly, I am going to totally nerd out now about Linkin Park. You've been warned. Apparently you either love them or hate them. I was/am a lover. I was first introduced to them back in my college days at HSU by a friend. I was a passenger in her car, where we were going, I don't remember but she was playing their first album, Hybrid Theory. She was totally excited and in to it. I think she was even screaming along with Chester. I could be wrong though, my memory is a bit fuzzy. I remember not hearing anything like it before. They blended rap with hard rock with hip hop and electronic/synth stuff. It was just really cool and dark and edgy. And I was hooked. So thanks Crystal for that car ride to wherever and sharing them with me. I do also remember them being played on the radio A LOT! And so I bought their albums, first on CD because back then, there was no itunes, only napster. Remember napster? Dang, that was a long time ago. Dear god, I'm so dating myself. When did we get OLD? I currently own all their albums: Hybrid Theory, Meteora, Minutes to Midnight, A Thousand Suns, Living Things, The Hunting Party, and One More Light, and a few singles: What I've Done and New Divide. Which is all their studio albums. They have done (which I don't currently own) remixes of a few albums (most notably Reanimation, which is a remix of their debut Hybrid Theory and Recharged, a remix of Living Things) and more recently they released two albums of both instrumentals and acapella versions of Living Things and Hunting Party, which are pretty interesting. Weird, but interesting. They also did a collaboration with Jay-Z, but I don't like him, so yeah. Oh and some live concerts. I realized today that they are the only music group that I "grew-up" with. What I mean is, they debuted Hybrid Theory in 2000. I was a senior in college at HSU. The band members and I are pretty much the same age. Everything was new and exciting and our worlds were expanding at the same time. We were on a journey of self discovery and all that stuff. Too corny? I don't care. As they matured and evolved and experimented through the years, I had been too. We grew-up together. We were suppose to grow old together, too.<br />
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These past weeks since Chester's passing, I've been listening, downloading, and watching a lot of their stuff. They really are a bunch of crazy talented, a little nerdy, compassionate, funny, and genuinely nice group of guys. They started and/or funded many charities, started a recycling company in Haiti, performed countless charity and fundraising concerts. They all can play multiple instruments and program/sample. Joe Hahn, the DJ, is also a video and film writer/director, and visual artist. Mike Shinoda, the rapper/singer, is also a songwriter, record producer, and graphic artist, and has another band, Fort Minor. And Chester had another band, Dead by Sunrise, fronted Stone Temple Pilots for a few years, and had some movie credits as well. They rode the wave of digital and social media like masters. They are amazing. There's even a Linkin Park game app you can download! Check out their website <a href="http://linkinpark.com/">LinkinPark.com</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/user/linkinparktv" target="_blank">youtube channel</a>. There is so much there. It's a blessing in a way that they filmed and documented so much of their life as a band. I have certainly spent many many hours watching their LPTV videos on youtube. <br />
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So all of this about Linkin Park and Chester to say, Goddammit. I've said here before, so it shouldn't be a surprise that I suffer from depression. I am not medicated for it as of now. I also suffer from anxiety and can/have had panic attacks. I am fortunate to have inherited depression from my mother and anxiety from my father. Thank you so much. Not their fault really. One who suffers from diseases like these can listen to Linkin Park and say, "they get me", "these guys understand what it's like". I can choose countless songs from them over the years to play for you as a demonstration. The things that go on inside of a depressed head can only be understood by another. Chester had demons, he had no shame in admitting to them and was very open about his struggles. Music was his cathartic outlet. You felt it when he sang. I certainly did. Why is it that so many of the most creative minds are also the most self destructive?<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(It has taken me three days just to write this. I need to do it. I just don't want to. Keep having to stop to cry.)</span><br />
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I've been trying to work my way out of my own destructive mind for a good while. I got into a slump and then just kept slipping down further. I had some bottom light bulb moments, and would vow to change and do the ole pull yourself up by the bootstraps thing, and then days and then weeks would go by. During this time I had gained all the weight back that I had lost. I outgrew all my clothes, because I had purposely donated all my old "fat me" clothes. I have one pair of jeans, two pairs of shorts, and about 7-8 shirts that fit right now. I have refused to buy new "fat me" clothes. I heartily believe I am crawling back out. First was that I spent two weeks in the field monitoring archaeological sites where dead and/or hazard trees were being logged. I didn't want to go out there. Remember me talking about anxiety earlier? But it was me, or no one. So I went. The two days before and the first day were not fun for me. It forced me to be outside. It forced me to interact with other humans. And it made me realize that I don't fit into any of my field clothes. I was doing good. I got some much needed vitamin D and socialization. I got home from that job, turned my laptop on, and got suckerpunched. I've felt horrible ever since. Thank you to my hiking buddy though with whom we had already planned a hike for the weekend. The hike, again forced me outside and to socialize and not hole up in my room all weekend in a ball. And then I did the miraculous. I put my running shoes on and ran. Everything hurt again. Feet, ankles, knees, hips, even the boobs flop around too much, and their small! And then I ran again, and again. And again.<br />
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I will keep mourning the loss of the man who has had a huge impact on my life. Who finally silenced his demons the only way he could.<br />
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<i>You hid your skeletons when I had shown you mine<br />
You woke the devil that I thought you'd left behind<br />
I saw the evidence, the crimson soaking through<br />
Ten thousand promises, ten thousand ways to lose<br />
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And you held it all but you were careless to let it fall<br />
You held it all and I was by your side, powerless<br />
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I watched you fall apart and chased you to the end.<br />
I'm left with emptiness that words cannot defend<br />
You'll never know what I became because of you<br />
Ten thousand promises, ten thousand ways to lose<br />
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And you held it all but you were careless to let it fall<br />
You held it all and I was by your side, powerless</i><br />
<i> – Powerless by Linkin Park</i> <br />
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I'll keep listening to the music. And I'll keep crawling out. I'm not done yet. I've still got some roads untraveled. And maybe I'll write that post about his voice someday.<br />
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<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-58828477799296828752017-06-19T00:56:00.000-07:002017-06-19T00:56:18.220-07:00Tallulah Mae's first offical maiden voyage: Part IV<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our final destination was Cheyenne Wyoming. This is a special place for Tallulah Mae's inhabitants. It's like a second home. Sis has a unique bond, since mom and dad used to ship her off here during the summers of her youth. Sis and Grandma are tight, yo. Grandma is now 95, mostly blind, lives in an independent senior housing complex, and is feisty as ever. She is also the mother of dad, his sisters (Aunt1 and 2), and brother (Uncle1). She shall be heretofore, Gutsy Granny.<br />
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First order of business was to move into our new home for our stay. We put dad in Aunt2's guest room, and sis, nephew2, and I slept in Tallulah Mae in Aunt2's driveway. Aunt1 from Florida, beat us to Cheyenne, so she got the prime spot of Gutsy Granny's guest room.<br />
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Floofy puppy loved trying to catch all the bunnies in Aunt2's neighborhood. They are overrun by bunnies. Bunnies, bunnies, everywhere.<br />
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Second order of business was a birthday party for everyone. Because when you're 95, you celebrate all things, all the time, so why not?<br />
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Gutsy Granny met floofy puppy and fell in love.<br />
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Later on in the evening, Gutsy Granny beat us all at cards, even setting her precious first born (dad). My streak was over.<br />
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We took Tallulah Mae to Uncle1's house so they all could meet her and we had a great time catching up. <br />
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Floofy puppy finally met his doppelgangers (other white floofy older puppies). Uncle1 and his lady AuntL have two white floofs. <br />
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Their son, Cousin1 also brought his BIG floof. His name is Little Bear. Floofy puppy loved that there was a big friend to play with, since the white floofs were not interested in playtime. <br />
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We had a great time eating brownies and ice cream and drinking coffee. We showed everyone Tallulah Mae. But soon it was time to leave. Cousin1 and 2 and the mini cousins needed to get back home to their crazy busy lives. Mini cousins aren't so mini anymore. Mini cousin1 just finished her first year of college and mini cousin2 is taller than everyone, plays football, and is not even 16 yet!<br />
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It was then time to visit with even more cousins at Aunt2's house. Her daughter, Cousin3 and her mimi cousins drove up from cow town (Greeley Co.) Her other half, UncleE took off of "work" (he's a volunteer) and came over for lunch. So nephew2 got on the riding mower and helped Aunt2 get the place ready... for the "severe storm" that was rolling in.<br />
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We were constantly watching the weather. It's not an official trip until you experience Wyoming weather! Even my phone was telling me about the "extreme weather" coming. It never did hit Aunt2's house.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mini Cousin4 waiting patiently for sis to finish sewing the buttons on her new giraffe dress</td></tr>
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We did what every family does: bond in front of the t.v.<br />
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UncleE went to back to "work", and after went to check on his horses and batten down his place. When he came back, he said there was a tornado that had touched down about 6 miles from his place. So of coarse we all go outside to watch. <br />
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Uncle1 calls to mach sure Gutsy Granny is with us, since Aunt2 has a basement, and Gutsy Granny doesn't. He also felt bad for us because we had no where to put Tallulah Mae to escape the hail... if it came. But that is what insurance is for. Uncle1 said he put his truck in his barn, and his cars were in the garage. Mini cousin3 didn't like the lightning and thunder, but mini cousin4 was outside with us crazies watching the clouds.<br />
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Aunt1, 2, and I discussed how you can tell a Wyoming native from everyone else. The natives are out on their decks, like us, nonchalantly gazing out at the clouds discussing the days events. Everyone else is in their basement worrying about their food stock and cars.<br />
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Mini Cousin4 sure loved floofy puppy! <br />
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Well, like I said, the storm passed us right on by, hardly any rain, and only one little hail ball. However, Uncle1's house got hit by 3" hail and took out his skylights in the kitchen and barn, steel gutters, his truck that was in the barn, the hot tub cover, irrigation system, and made his lawn look like the surface of the moon, plus a car plowed into the telephone pole outside his house. It plowed into the pole because the windshield got shattered by the giant hail balls from the sky. So they had an exciting evening. However, everyone in Wyoming has hail insurance, so they are covered. Their only dilemma is which insurance to use for the truck. The trucks insurance or the home insurance. Since the truck was in the barn (which is covered under the home insurance), do they use the home insurance for the truck or not.<br />
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The next day it was time for Aunt1 to fly home. <br />
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We hung out at Gutsy Granny's, ate food, played games, ate some more. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gutsy Granny's complex has a pool table!</td></tr>
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And so the days passed. Nephew2 got a hold of cousin5 (Aunt2 and UncleE's sons son) and he came by Gutsy Granny's and hung out. He showed us videos of him bronc riding. He rides for LCCC (Laramie County Community College), he also just finished his freshman year of college. You know you're in the "wild west" when the schools offer rodeo as a sport. He then invited nephew2 out to a bonfire. When nephew2 came back, he said they never made it out to the bonfire. Instead they went fishing at a pond by the side of a road, and then met one of cousin5's friends at a gas station and just hung out. Wow, the youth of Wyoming sure need a nightlife. But in his defense, his dad is a cop, and works the night shift, so the last thing you want is to get caught by the cops doing something stupid, who also happens to be your father. Talk about a double whammy.<br />
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Pretty soon it was coming time to get ready to head home. Nephew2 got his girlfriend Wyoming gifts, we got our house sitters thank you gifts, and nephew2 bought fireworks. You can buy fireworks in Wyoming 365 days a year, at least in Laramie County. I think it's state wide though, but I'm not a local. So if you hear anything coming from sis' house, it's just nephew2 setting off his blackcats and smoke bombs.<br />
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Dad spent our last two nights with Gutsy Granny which meant I got to move inside to the guest room! Woo-Hoo! I didn't have to wear my ear plugs for two whole nights! Sis snores like a freight train! We decided to leave really early since our first drive day back home was going to be 600 miles, and dad thought it would take us close to 10 hours to get to Wendover Nevada/Utah. East Wendover is in Utah, West Wendover is in Nevada. However the entire town has decided to stay on mountain time since Nevada is in the Pacific time zone and Utah is in the Mountain time zone. So we all packed up, and got over to Gutsy Granny's by 6:45am. Said our tearful goodbyes and vowed to see each other again soon. And before we knew it, we were off traveling west bound on Interstate 80. Past the tree in the rock, Lincoln's head, and Vedauwoo, and into Utah.<br />
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We pulled into the Wendover KOA at 4pm. Of all the KOA's, it was the least attractive. But it's hard to be a lush oasis in the desert salt flats in the middle of nowhere. Floofy puppy got a lot of stickers in his paws and didn't care much for the place. Despite dad's worrying, we made excellent time. So we set up camp, and watched some Tom and Jerry cartoons and The Adventures of Tin Tin.<br />
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Back on the road the next morning again on west bound Interstate 80. Through Nevada, over the sierra mountains that still have snow in June, and into California. <br />
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There's just something about crossing into your home state. Even though you aren't quite home yet, there is a comfort in knowing you're almost there. Floofy puppy was over the roadtrip. He was ready to be home and see his "sister" Sura. Got into Sacramento and turned left onto I-5 south and down to Santa Nella and hung a right onto 152 and home. We got into town just after 9pm and passed the long line of cars heading east on 152 for the weekend.<br />
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We unpacked the essentials and perishables. It was good to be home. I thought my kitties would be so happy to see me, I was happy to see them. But they were not. They were mad and a bit hesitant. I think I left them for a bit too long. They warmed up to me eventually, and I got to say, there's nothing like your own bed. I had the best sleep in weeks.<br />
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And so, Tallulah Mae's first official road trip was over. We survived. We still like each other.<br />
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A few other things of note:<br />
We saw a bald eagle in flight in California.<br />
Tallulah Mae has a few quirks like turning off her AC when you need it the most.<br />
A bird flew into Tallulah's window while parked in the KOA.<br />
Invest in ear plugs when you have to sleep next to a freight train.<br />
Packing for an RV trip is different than packing for a car road trip.<br />
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And Tallulah Mae got her first bath!<br />
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<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-87616610753595950072017-06-12T10:36:00.000-07:002017-06-13T18:01:26.017-07:00Tallulah Mae's first official maiden voyage: Part III<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Once again we were off on to the next leg. Through Arizona to Cheyenne Wyoming, via southern Colorado. We left Big Bro, sis-in-law, nephew3 and 4 and the animal brood behind, waving from their front yard. Sad to leave them behind, but we'll be seeing nephew3 soon on his way back home from his first epic roadtrip of his own, and because nephew2 left his computer charger and other things behind (suspicious). We weaved back onto the 202 to 101 to 17 north out of the Phoenix mega-lopolis. North to Flagstaff and then veered east on Interstate 40 only to get to 89 and finally to 160. Through Hopi, Navajo, and Ute reservations. Needed a pee break and gas, so we pulled over at a gas station. Sis felt bad for the stray rez dog and gave him some of floofy puppies food and dad bought his cookie stash, he was having withdrawals.<br />
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We then stopped at the four corners. It has changed a lot since dad and sis (she was only 1 at the time, so for some reason, she doesn't remember) were here last. It is now very commercialized and overpriced for just a picture opportunity. We walked around all four states, took some photos, emptied our bladders, and left saying, "eh".<br />
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What we did learn there however, is that a "comfort station" is still just a restroom with a toilet. The seat isn't anymore "comfortable" than any other on the trip.<br />
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We crossed into Colorado and pulled into our KOA campground in Cortez Colorado for the night. There was a small lake and a nature walk at our campground and we decided we needed the exercise. So we all struck off down the trail.<br />
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Sis and dad, with floofy puppy turned back, and nephew2 and I continued around the loop.<br />
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We came back into camp and sis asked if we had the keys to the RV. "Uh, no. You had them in your pocket". Oh dear. We were locked out. Off we went back down the trail, back and forth, surveying the ground, bushes, and grasses, getting eaten by mosquitoes. We were losing hope. Sis told a KOA dude in his golf cart that she lost the keys and was going to call AAA. Dude in golf cart radioed other dude in golf cart... and wham, bam, other dude in golf cart rolled up and presented sis with her keys! It was a Christmas miracle in June! Everyone rejoiced and sang kumbaya around the campfire and then fireworks went off and... naw. We made dinner, watched Ratatouille, and went to bed.<br />
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We survived our first night in Tallulah Mae together and we were off to Mesa Verde National Park. Wow, what a place!<br />
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Again, it has changed a whole lot since dad and sis were there. Again, sis didn't remember being there. Her memory sure is spotty. We first stopped at the visitor center.<br />
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Then drove in the 21 miles to the Chapin Mesa Archaeological Museum. I got my geek on.<br />
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Nephew2 and I then went on the Petroglyph Point Trail. So, so cool.<br />
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I kept looking in all the cliff overhangs for rock art and started to doubt my archie skills when I didn't see anything.<br />
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Nephew2 reminded me of the name of the trail, Petroglyph Point. Oh.<br />
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We made it to the "point". Super cool.<br />
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A bit farther down the trail a Ranger came by. He was new to the park and was familiarizing himself with the trails. We were taking a picture opportunity break, but really a "I can't breathe" break. We were over 7000 feet. That's high for our sea level lungs.<br />
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On our way back we stopped and tried yucca flowers. Tastes like bitter lettuce and dirt. Has quite the aftertaste too. We don't recommend them, unless you're starving. After our hike we all got back together and drove the Mesa Top Loop and stopped at pit houses and the Sun Temple. </div>
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We all agreed, it was a pretty awesome day. We had some driving to do though.</div>
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We got back on highway 160 east and headed up the Rockies. We stopped at Wolf Creek Pass which is the continental divide at 10,856 feet. It was cold and there was still snow on the ground.<br />
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We took floofy puppy out to see snow for the first time. He didn't mind it, but didn't really care either. He was more interested in the mud at the edge of the snow.<br />
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We were cold in our flip flops and t-shirts, so back into Tallulah Mae to warm up. We rolled into our second KOA in Alamosa, Colorado pretty late. We hooked up, ate, and went to bed. No nature walk this time.<br />
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The next morning, floofy puppy saw his first bunny. He got so excited he tried to hop after it. We got back on 160 and took 150 north to the Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve.<br />
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So weird to see these huge sand dunes in this large valley up against mountains. We drove in, then drove back out because no one told us that if you want to surf the dunes, the place to rent the boards is outside the park. We got nephew2 a board, and then back into the park. We didn't realize we had to cross a creek.<br />
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Floofy puppy liked to drink from the creek but was unsure about playing in it. But he sure did love playing in all that sand!<br />
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It was a long trek through the sand up to the dunes.<br />
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There are no trails and you are allowed to climb the dunes and surf, sled, and roll down them all you want.<br />
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The sand was hot, and sis, floofy puppy, and I stayed near the bottom and nephew2 started off up the dunes. He climbed, and climbed, sat down to rest, climbed some more, rested some more, and kept on climbing. He went all the way to the top. It became pointless to take his picture, since he was only a tiny blue speck.<br />
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As he sand surfed, and climbed back up, we down below watched in the heat and wind. Floofy puppy would dig in the sand to where it was cool and lied down in our shadows. He didn't care for the wind. Neither did we. Nephew2 had a great time sand surfing. He surfed down to us and drank a bottle of water. He was exhausted and exuberant. Sis carried floofy puppy back across the hot sand, exhausted nephew2 dragged his board. We crossed the creek triumphant. We came, we saw, we conquered.<br />
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Back down 150 and east some more on 160, and then north on I-25. Through Pueblo and Colorado Springs. Hello Denver. Goodbye Denver.<br />
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Nephew2 got comfy and watched movies as we crossed the Wyoming border.<br />
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And finally, home sweet Cheyenne.<br />
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Until next time where my blind 95 year old grandmother whoops us all at cards, floofy puppy gets overrun by bunnies, and I realize that my little cousins aren't so little anymore.<br />
<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-68166212669493422732017-06-09T20:42:00.000-07:002017-06-09T21:08:15.657-07:00Tallulah Mae's first official maiden voyage: Part IIAnd so we had to leave SHP's. Who are SHP?<a href="http://exploringthejourney.blogspot.com/2017/06/tallulah-maes-first-offical-maiden.html" target="_blank"> Read Part I</a>, silly. Jumping into a movie or conversation already started is frustrating when you don't know what's going on. Come on now. Anyway, it was time for the next stage of the voyage. To Queen Creek Arizona, or Phoenix for those unfamiliar with the mega-lopolis of Phoenix/Mesa/Scottsdale/Tempe/Gilbert/Chandler/etc. So we left SHP, Poco, and Polly after breakfast and weaved down the mountain to the 10 freeway and headed east. Past the biggest wind farm I've ever seen. It just keeps going and going and going, worse than the energizer bunny.<br />
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Past Palm Springs... and other desert towns. And the oh so lovely Blythe... ew. And crossed into Arizona!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIco8l_UJTKivSQX8OLeYXU3TT3_uoFTNDK3D9BE_PrQ2MIWttU2b7ezOPMwWXaABoVjdKXOvL7MR28Ys3T3Xu3-sPwodP56jGC73WLyLiRSjB9e_QyNMStXrQ8jH_6LWcoQWqQ5wSCKvE/s1600/DSC03834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIco8l_UJTKivSQX8OLeYXU3TT3_uoFTNDK3D9BE_PrQ2MIWttU2b7ezOPMwWXaABoVjdKXOvL7MR28Ys3T3Xu3-sPwodP56jGC73WLyLiRSjB9e_QyNMStXrQ8jH_6LWcoQWqQ5wSCKvE/s320/DSC03834.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hello, Arizona. You're hot!</td></tr>
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We drove 10 east all the way into Phoenix, then the 202, which I missed and had to turn around and try again. I got it the second time. Then streets to our next destination: Big Bro's, sis-in-law, nephew3, and nephew4's place.<br />
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They have old man Ollie (Oliver the diabetic 10 year old dog), Benny (4 year old dog who is part beagle...so he talks a lot-we think Floofy puppy may have picked up a bad habit. Thanks Big Bro.), two kitties (Jaspurr and Jewels), and a cockatiel (Piper), so floofy puppy was super excited. He has never seen kitties before, and especially kitties that look like lions!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9GARHvuI8OPCtKEyRFLXCn1P1bFmCgT1VisHVUa_U-suijzobmfKUvdOpDnussdpDRUq7XuNhV6Qpl20cus538mS9Flk4r1-82h-GuFfR39AgyTFnA7Cso2xW-FVJF2m2zM_Sqlc0-eq/s1600/DSC03860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv9GARHvuI8OPCtKEyRFLXCn1P1bFmCgT1VisHVUa_U-suijzobmfKUvdOpDnussdpDRUq7XuNhV6Qpl20cus538mS9Flk4r1-82h-GuFfR39AgyTFnA7Cso2xW-FVJF2m2zM_Sqlc0-eq/s320/DSC03860.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apparently Jewels was a pretty kitty before her haircut.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehdQDRAVsL5lMEnyyKwQJuuoM4h5tGIsszp3coTu9Q3_8vUsFrFthUSQZ798PoH2pq1Ya77ARcJYu4KbdovIyg7dqtuz-84zg8v8bOLNJpjwJi_y3g2HAoPdgVwm1hUSnj8iX6XWXTzKq/s1600/DSC03861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiehdQDRAVsL5lMEnyyKwQJuuoM4h5tGIsszp3coTu9Q3_8vUsFrFthUSQZ798PoH2pq1Ya77ARcJYu4KbdovIyg7dqtuz-84zg8v8bOLNJpjwJi_y3g2HAoPdgVwm1hUSnj8iX6XWXTzKq/s320/DSC03861.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jaspurr doesn't look half bad in his lion cut.</td></tr>
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Ollie didn't care much for him, but he's old and blind, so all floofy puppy is, is a blur to him. Benny got a playmate that wore him out, and the kitties just wouldn't play, no matter how hard he tried to get them to. The humans enjoyed sitting in the backyard in the cool 85 degree evening, eating popsicles and playing cards. I won again. I think I have to be on vacation to win, I lose a lot at home.<br />
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The following day, Big Bro and nephew3 drove us up to Sedona. We couldn't find parking and so we pulled over to turn around and try again, and nephew2 needed to pee. So he got out and peed. He said it's really pretty down there. (more on that later) We walked around and looked at art and tourist shops and ate lunch and took the obligatory family photo's, much to the shugrin of all the nephews.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_CtKYlmKyqTaIjGjhS8Qr7U2hXlGMW4vcMy9KYw7l663orGrKkqAS_vUQwjd_aG-rW9czd9Ckgg81yIXqS6dVBAN5XM2QzXtDQJeTKbW18Tv-d9zhPvFnqHbx0KVbhbul7L4fBVhMkvqo/s1600/DSC03838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_CtKYlmKyqTaIjGjhS8Qr7U2hXlGMW4vcMy9KYw7l663orGrKkqAS_vUQwjd_aG-rW9czd9Ckgg81yIXqS6dVBAN5XM2QzXtDQJeTKbW18Tv-d9zhPvFnqHbx0KVbhbul7L4fBVhMkvqo/s320/DSC03838.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dad, Big Bro, Sis, and me</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nephew2, 3 and 4</td></tr>
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Nephew2 wanted to see the creek he saw when he peed, so we went off to his pee spot. The nephews climbed down close to the water where we (Big bro and I-because we were smart and didn't climb down) saw a hippie down in the water. Nephew2 got a good pic of the dude in the nude, not being lude by keeping his little dude submerged (nephew2 has that picture).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgba4owJThcL-lqzNS44HlvO1wox0Hr5Vd0vu6knd9Fn46XHCm-SqKhifSOeYMUjXW1JkvaBH8UYkEC2FMSyBQMNHsQEVTYJtURnlU8NVkBVeo8DI3iO1Au-SgJXp72mib2wwoor1_XXNei/s1600/DSC03844.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgba4owJThcL-lqzNS44HlvO1wox0Hr5Vd0vu6knd9Fn46XHCm-SqKhifSOeYMUjXW1JkvaBH8UYkEC2FMSyBQMNHsQEVTYJtURnlU8NVkBVeo8DI3iO1Au-SgJXp72mib2wwoor1_XXNei/s320/DSC03844.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perhaps this is him taking said photo...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snoopy sleeping on his house</td></tr>
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After seeing the snoopy formation and all we wanted to see and not see in Sedona, we went back south and stopped at Montazuma's Well. Down a dirt road of which nephew3 was finally happy that he was forced to drive his dad's 4runner and not his little miata. We got out and started down the trail to the well. Once there, the ranger was standing in the middle of the trail telling us the park was closing at 5pm so we only had 5 minutes. We were bummed and disappointed that we were only able to look at it and not get to explore it. We now know that the Rangers at Montazuma's Well want to start drinking early, so go early.<br />
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The next day was laundry day. Oh so exciting. Big Bro also chauffeured us around to the 3 Dude's Quilting store. It really is owned and run by three old dudes who were tired of their wives hanging out in quilt shops without them.<br />
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And a few other places for essentials that we forgot like razors and body soap. Necessities when you live in a RV with three other people. The nephews went go-cart racing, while us "adults" went essential shopping. They needed some more cousin bonding (they said this, not their parents) so after dinner, they went bowling. Why is it that it's always late the last night that we start talking deep intellectual philosophy and solve all the worlds problems? It's just how we roll. We're cool like that.<br />
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The next morning we were off on the next leg of the journey. The previous always not quite long enough, but always looking forward to what is coming up next. What a conundrum to have.<br />
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So until next time where we learn a new word for restroom, floofy puppy has so many firsts, it's almost mind-boggleing, nephew2 surfs in Colorado, and sis looses the keys to the RV.<br />
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Hang on, not so fast. Nephew2 has sent me an important photo:<br />
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<br />The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-3170176710656117142017-06-05T17:23:00.000-07:002017-06-09T20:46:51.933-07:00Tallulah Mae's first offical maiden voyage: Part I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And we're off... to see the desert (not Kansas) in order to avoid LA. Because, because, because, because, becauuuuuuuuse... (are you singing along?) The 210 is horrible and even worse during commute times.<br />
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We (sis, dad, nephew2, floofy puppy, and I) are going on a southwest/midwest tour in Tallulah Mae, the RV. Tallulah Mae has gone on little trips, so she's not a virgin. On her very first voyage to our local campground, sis crashed her into dad's neighbors car. Totaled their car, Tallulah just needed a little duct tape bandaid. But that's another story.<br />
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Our first destination is our long time (they've known me longer than I've known myself) great family friends, Shiny Happy People. Dad and I first packed up his truck with our stuff and all the photo albums going back to Wyoming and drove over to sis' to pack up the RV. Floofy puppy is bouncing and ready to go! We of course said we wanted to leave at 9:00am, but you know things don't always happen the way you plan them. We rolled out of the driveway at 10:30am. Not too shabby.<br />
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We took 152 over Pacheco Pass and San Luis Reservoir to the 5. Then 58 into Bakersfield and Tahachapi and past Mojave to Boron. There was some confusion near Mojave as to where we were going and not going, so we pulled off and pulled over to confer with dad and the map. Nephew2 needed to pee, so he got out, then floofy puppy needed to pee. So everyone got out and two fighter jets passed over us and landed at Edwards Airforce Base. So that was neat, loud, but neat. Then down 395 to 15, 215, and 210, then streets to Oak Glen, up the hill, through the apple orchards to Shiny Happy People's (SHP) house. We rolled in by 7pm. <br />
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Day 1 with SHP was spent doing man things and lady things. The "men" went with Mister SHP to his shop and then to a local painter's studio. The "ladies" went with Miss SHP and got mani pedi's. Nephew2 met Poco the horse. Floofy puppy met old lady Polly, SHP's best dog ever. We played cards and I got to win. Woo Hoo, it's been awhile.<br />
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Day 2 with SHP was spent lounging about and floofy puppy getting a haircut so he can now see through his floof. And Nephew2 got to ride Poco all over Oak Glen.<br />
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We had a lovely visit, always not long enough. The next day was the next drive day to Arizona.<br />
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Till next time, where we get to see a neckid hippie take a "bath", I win at cards again, and floofy puppy meets lion kitties for the first time.The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3878220543222799838.post-74499932520866871042017-04-28T18:58:00.001-07:002017-05-02T19:11:10.267-07:00My Book Stash Must Go!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have an 8x10 shed in my sisters back yard full of books. I had started to collect them way back in 2012 for my as of yet unfulfilled dream of opening a used book shop/gelato/coffee bar. Unless someone wins the lottery and gives me say 1 million dollars, it's not going to happen. Have I completely given up on the dream? Eh, sort of. I tried to get it going again last year. I had an amazing business plan, my eye on several potential locations that were for sale, a real estate agent ready and willing to get into the trenches and fight for me, and I had sold my portion of the house I co-owned with my sister back to her and pulled out my entire retirement savings from my 401k. But none of it mattered to the banks. I won't go into the long details of how the US banking empire is fucked up, and will only say that it was impossible for me to get any kind of loan (small business or commercial) from any bank (big or small community).<br />
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So, I have just under 4,000 books in a shed not being read or even used as kindling or toilet paper. I've looked into selling online via amazon, independent online sellers, setting up my own online bookstore, etc., and none of them would allow me to make any profit or even break even. I could donate them, and I have donated a few hundred, and given some to friends. But I don't want to donate them to the new crappy used bookstore that is in my dream downtown location, because they are crappy and I don't like them. I may be slightly jaded.<br />
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And if by some miracle I am able to open my dream shop some day, collecting books is not a hard task for me. I'm very good at it. So getting rid of the stash I have now will not break me. My sister could use the extra storage for other things like her oldest sons crap that he left behind after he joined the army or her broken exercise equipment. You know, stuff.<br />
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So I am posting a link to my inventory. I will put it in google docs and open it to everyone. You can search by title, author, and even ISBN. Let me know what you want, and first come first serve if I don't have multiple copies. I am not asking for any money for them, if you feel obligated to pay for them, then I only ask you don't try to overpay for them. They are used. If you want me to ship to you, I only ask you pay the shipping and nothing more.<br />
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If you happen to live near me (and by that I mean within a 100 mile radius), I will be happy to deliver. I will be on the road late May to mid June this year, so I can deliver to southern California, Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, and Nevada. We will just need to communicate and coordinate to meet up. Also please check the <b>Notes</b> section of my inventory, there I have details about if I lent the book to someone, donated it, or is perhaps worth a good sum of money (first editions, out of print, etc.), or any damage.<br />
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So please, I beg you all, take a look, snag some books, tell all your friends, family, co-workers, acquaintances, random people on the street, the cop giving you a speeding ticket, your local homeless crazy person, and everyone else in your life to take a look, and snag some books. I want them to go to good homes and get read, or used in art projects, or as fire starters, or camping toilet paper. I don't care.<br />
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If I get enough response, I will update the inventory accordingly when books get snagged.<br />
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<b>Here is the link to the book inventory:</b><br />
<a href="https://drive.google.com/open?id=0BwyDGwTOB-czRnFUX01CYUhoblE" target="_blank">Book Inventory</a><br />
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<b>Ways to contact me:</b><br />
comment on this blog post<br />
comment on this blog posts link on Facebook or Twitter<br />
message me on Facebook or Twitter (I promise to check Twitter regularly)<br />
my <a href="https://twitter.com/akagreenie?lang=en" target="_blank">Twitter handle</a> my <a href="https://www.facebook.com/kelly.larsen.50" target="_blank">Facebook page</a> <br />
email me at kslarsen1@yahoo.com<br />
text me (but I'm not going to leave my phone number in here so good luck with that)The Lonely Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16182824807802316041noreply@blogger.com0