What you wish for

In amazing timing, only about a day after I posted my last blog, which heavily mentioned my father and his deteriorating condition... he fell and broke his shoulder in 6 places.

He was going down the stairs to the basement to get a dish drainer (I don't know what they are actually called, but you put dishes on them to dry after washing them). I was doing the dishes in my sister's house, and asked dad if he knew if my sister had one, and if she did have one, did he know where it was? He didn't, but thought he had one of his own down in the basement. I told him not to worry about it, I would just use a towel.

Of course, as I turned back around to finish the dishes, dad left without saying anything. He needs live-in help, and is not supposed to use the stairs by himself, and he has no reason to go to the basement, since it's down another flight of steps, and he's been told by all of us, including doctors, not to use them unless he must, and when he must, to have help. (He had back surgery 6 years ago, and since then has had trouble walking) So, naturally, he goes to the basement as I'm washing dishes... and the next thing I hear is him yelling my name. "What?" I yelled back. "Come here!" And of course I walk through the house and can't find him, but finally walk down the two flights of stairs. He's at the bottom.

His feet slipped, and when he fell he landed on his right shoulder exactly on the corner of one of the stairs. The ball of the joint broke, one piece chipped off, but the rest of the ball fractured in a spiderweb of 5 other breaks. He was in a lot of pain, likely because it's not like breaking one bone, he broke the same bone 6 times, so the pain was increased. And, naturally, what did I do as I saw him lying on the stairs in pain? I turned into my typical self and started chiding him and telling him that's why he wasn't supposed to go down those stairs, especially alone, and what the hell was he thinking? I didn't know he was hurt that bad when I was saying all of this, but I still feel like an asshole for yelling at my dad as he's lying on the stairs with a severely broken shoulder.

Yeah, only a day after complaining about him... so I guess I should realize that no matter how bad you think things are, you should realize they can get worse, so stop bitching and try to enjoy your life. Then again, if you don't think things are bad, where's the motivation to make a better world for yourself and others, how do you try to improve anything and grow as a person? Still, bitching less must surely be a good thing.

I couldn't get dad up and into the car to go to the hospital, so I called 911 and they sent an ambulance. Finally we made it to the hospital, and he was x-rayed. My dad has been through a lot, and he's had a lot of pain in his life. He had a finger cut off and re-attached with fake knuckles, and when he was 12 a garbage truck hit his leg, broke it, and tore all of the skin off... he was in the hospital for 8 months recovering from that. With all of that pain, when they asked him how his pain was for his shoulder on a scale from 1 to 10, with 10 being the worst pain he'd ever felt, he said 9. My father is a man who takes potatoes out of the oven with his bare hands.

I don't know where I'm going with this... I'm pretty sure I'm rambling... so I'll stop here. I just don't like fate's sense of humor... I talk about my dad, and a day later he falls and breaks his shoulder... the "humor" bone in point of fact. What the fuck?

Quatsch

I may sit here and write these things to you in the late night or the wee hours, dear reader, but what am I trying to accomplish? For that matter, am I actually writing for you? Or is my imagination of a "reader" really the advocate for which I'm writing; is my imagination of a "reader" the other person to whom I constantly speak in my head? I suspect I know the answer, but I lack the conviction to state it.

And, while we're being semi-truthful... why am I writing? When I say the things I say here, whom am I trying to convince; you? I doubt it; that I'm trying to convince myself is more likely. So what am I doing here now? Why am I writing to you (me)? I once heard a psychologist say that we talk to them, psychologists/psychiatrists, in order to justify what we, in our minds, have already decided. Is that why I'm here? To justify myself to myself under the guise of justifying myself to you, the real or imagined reader? Again, the answer seems obvious... but I also know that this late night writing works for me; it settles my nerves and convinces me my convictions. So the more I write and attempt to sway you of something I advocate to be true, especially about myself, I'm actually not trying to convince you... I'm trying to convince myself.

Again, why am I here, now? ... I've taken care of my father for the last week. He's 79 and has Dementia. It's not always present, his particular flavor is distinguished by the fact that lucidity comes and goes. Some days he is himself... other days he may ask me the same 12 questions the entire day.

My father was always the anchor in my life. He was a very smart man, who lacked a strong education, but stuck to his convictions. He had an amazing stare, quiet but intimidating; one that never made you feel fear so much as shame. He always had good advice, and is one of the 3 people that understood the thoughts in my mind without my having to actually voice them. Insightful was a fitting word for him. I say was, because that man is gone. He's reached another stage in his life... and my anchor is suddenly missing.

Maybe that's why I'm here. I miss my anchor, the person who kept me bound to my life. I've tried to be my own anchor... I've found it very difficult... actually it's quite impossible to truly achieve. I'm searching for another anchor I guess. I've met three people who intrinsically understand me, perhaps I will meet a few more... but it seems obvious my next anchor will have to be one of these people few people who understand. Until then, the best I've decided I can do is remember who my father was, and be the best extension of him, as his son, that I can be. That's all the more anchor (the ties to my life as I am and as I wish to be) that I have. It's not enough, I think, but it must do for now. I miss my anchor, my sense of place and purpose in the world.

I recently heard a very powerful and self-made person say that it wasn't enough to believe in yourself... we simply are not that strong as people; we require that someone else also believe in us, so that our times of weakness aren't catastrophic. Maybe such is the anchor of which I speak... maybe I will find the one I need.

(God, could this get a little more sad and depressing?)

Bad Dreams and Nightmare Fish

I've stated on more than one occasion that I don't like coming here to confess. I don't mind thinking publicly, but exploring my feelings... all of the little things, the inner workings, that make me tick like some clock... I'm not comfortable with that. I like my secrets. I'm not going to list the reasons why I like my secrets... I'm not even sure I should list them all... but I will say that I have read my astrological sign. I don't really believe in Astrology... but the description of Scorpio does seem to fit me well. Perhaps it's wishful thinking, perhaps it's just dumb luck... I don't know. I just know that it seems to fit, and as the descriptions list pitfalls and strengths... well, what's wrong with trying to improve my strengths and stay away from bad habits?

In any case, I was talking recently with a close friend. We talked about how people identify themselves. It matters a great deal what one associates with oneself. My friend helped me to think through my position in life by looking at my position within my family, and the culture (small town, Midwest) in which I grew up. I judge myself as a blue-collar person, working class. In my family, we work. We work hard. And when we have free time, we rest; we lounge; we enjoy ourselves, and savor quietude. This doesn't fit in with an academic life. In your free time, you should read and learn, become more and better educated. Point being, I'm stuck between the two. On top of this conundrum, I don't have to work hard to learn... it's always come easy for me. This may sound like I'm looking for sympathy for being smart and learning quickly... I'm not. I'm saying, not working hard at studying, at least not as hard as my fellow students, undercuts my confidence in being intelligent and a functioning member of academia. I don't view myself as a person with higher education, as a person with a successful academic career. It's taken me 9 years to earn a 4 year degree. However, when I look at the things I've done, and I apply them to someone else (that is, I think of the things I've done, and imagine someone else having done them), then I see no problem with the accomplishment. I would say, if I were that person, I would be proud. So why then do I not feel the proper level of pride in myself?

My friend helped me think through this. I don't identify with this person, the higher education and degree'd person. I identify with the worker, the laborer who works hard. Sitting in an office and using one's brain instead of working outside with one's back is something I respect in others... but I don't feel myself worthy of doing that, of sitting inside and using my brain and expecting to get paid for such a job. For myself, personally, having worked manual labor most of my working life (due in no small part to my large physical size and strength), the person inside thinking is seen as lazy. In fact, working excavating, the person in the machine, who gets to sit down and use hand controls, is seen as lazy and "no good" if they want to spend a lot of time in the machine. Also, my family is mostly working class... my mother has a college degree, but in art, and not until she was in her 40s. My father started working at 15, finished high school, but found college too intimidating, although he was, and is, a very intelligent man. My family was a family of farmers, hard workers. I don't see myself as a thinker... I don't see myself as a person who deserves to be paid for work that doesn't involve physical labor. I can think about it all I want, I can understand that the piece of paper that says I have a degree in History, and training in Creative Writing and German; but it remains true that thinking something is true, and feeling something is true, are entirely different things.

Now on to my bad dream, inspired by the evil question fish. I dreamed I was being tutored by my highschool guidance counselor. There were three of us, and we were taking a quiz. I couldn't remember the answer to my first question, I knew the answer to the second question, and as she asked the third question I was uncomfortable and I shifted in my chair. As I repositioned myself I thought, "Don't look at the piece of paper in her hands that has all of the questions on it," which of course is exactly the same as saying, "Don't look down" whenever one is at a high height. She caught me looking, even though I didn't need to, and she became very upset and said, "Ah, I see you now for what you are, you cheating little boy!" And suddenly I was a kid again in school, I had been caught cheating, and everything I had earned was going to be taken away, my life and future were ruined.

I've had a lot of stress lately... I want to work in Germany, but I've never worked in Germany, I've never had a job where I had to use my mind instead of my back, I've never been graduated and not gone to school/university. I'm scared of it. This is the nightmare I had, where I found out I was not worthy of the life I want. It's made me think, and I decided there are things I must do to ensure that I am the person I need to be, that I have the right opinion of myself, that I am worthy of the life I want. It sounds like some great proverb, doesn't it? "Be worthy of the life you desire." Still, there it is, and here I am. And I guess that's that's the secret that's been gnawing at me. I'm a 28 year old boy who is scared of the next step in life. And, I guess actually, that's not such a bad thing; surely I'm not the only one. Man up, Jason... man up, and scare the question fish away.

Creative Writing

I went out recently and had beers with several of the Creative Writing staff. These are authors, real authors with published books of poetry and fiction, and I am privileged enough to call them friend instead of Professor. Our staff is pretty unique in the country, there are many books they have published between them, and they are the recipients of many writing awards. All of this is wonderful, except I have not taken full advantage of them. They have taught, and I have listened, but I have done nothing out of class to help me become a better writer. Before a guest speaker (and favorite former professor) left the bar, while I was a little tipsy, I shook his hand, and said, "I want to thank you for coming and reading, and for being a professor of mine. You always make me ashamed of the things I have not done, and I appreciate that. Thank you."

I have no idea how he really took it, how crazy he thinks I am, or if my words affected him at all. I do know that it made me keenly aware of what I have not achieved, and what I might possibly achieve.

Now, it falls to me to do something productive with myself.

Tired of Introspection

I normally come here to sort out my thoughts... but lately this has turned into an introspection blog/dairy/rant. I'm tired of it. There's a difference between stating my thoughts, and working them out publically... I'm not going to work my ideas and feelings out publically anymore.

I need to be able to give the impression, at least to myself, that I'm capable of functioning as a person, not an over-sensitive pinball.

Reading

I've begun reading again. Spurred by the recently recommendation of a book from a good friend, I rediscovered my love of reading. For a long time, I've only had time to read the books my classes required, and in any extra time I had, reading was the one thing I definitely did not want to do. Now I feel the urge to read what I want.

I recently read "The Little Prince." My normal distaste for French put aside, it was an excellent read. "Artful," is the best word I can use to describe it, although "insightful" fits the book equally well. It's a book who's name constantly kept turning up, and I'm glad I finally paid attention. I had to restrain myself, because as I read certain lines I wanted to underline them. But, the book I was reading was a library book, so I thought it better I didn't mark inside the book.

During my time in Bremen I met a great number of people from many countries. For some reason, I met a lot of Turkish students with whom I formed great friendships. When it comes to friends, I look for quality rather than quantity, and I left Bremen with more close Turkish acquaintances than German. Surprising, since I went to Germany to learn German and to get more in touch with my German ancestry, but I'm not complaining. I wouldn't trade friends for anything, especially good friends. However, I know very little about Turkey compared to the other nations of the world. I know European and Russian history, and some Chinese, and everything I learned of Turkey was from the periphery of the history I knew. So, given my rediscovered love of reading, I nerded-out and checked out books on Turkey. Ancient Turkey was a little dry, but A History of Modern Turkey is fascinating.

I believe to know who one is oneself, one must know from whence one came. Using this approach, I studied German history, and American history. I studied Scottish history as well. This helped me to understand why I was the way I was, and why I was raised as I was. This translates to others and other countries/cultures as well. I know the Germans, I know the English, I learned about Czechs and Hungarians while I was in Bremen, and Slovenians. I had know of the history of the countries before, but I learned how it shaped people after I met residents of the countries. Since I knew so little about Turkey, I felt like I was doing my friends a disservice, so I started reading. It is an effort to better understand my friends, and I'm very glad I'm reading about it now. Now perhaps, when I talk with them, I won't have to ask them for a history lesson to understand one of their jokes, or to understand the significance of something that is important to them. =) I can't wait to finish the book, and talk with my friends again, and hopefully understand them a little better next time.


P.S. Hmmm, it does seem a little strange to me that I try understand people by reading their history. But, to me it's the same as asking about a person's life, for what are they telling you but their personal history, so that you may better understand who they are?

Irritability

I decided recently that I needed to lose weight. Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm more than a bit heavy, but I'm pretty strong and active, so I don't catch much flak. Think of a shorter version of a guy from World's Strongest Man competitions, but several years without practice, and that's kinda what I am, or so I've been told.

In any case, I don't like the way the guy in the mirror looks at me, so it's time for a change. So far I've lost 12 pounds by watching what I eat, how much, and when. It's been easier than I thought, but I need to add excercise too. I'll spare the science reason, but endorphines are a big part of it. When you're calorie deficient, which is the only way to lose weight, your body turns inward to look for more energy. It takes this from muscle and fat. Unfortunately, muscle is easier to change to energy, which is why you must excercise as well (to keep the muscle), but eventually fat is used. This stage is where losing weight, in fat, helps to reshape the body. Unfortunately, to do this the body must get the energy from the fat, which means you're always tired, because you're not getting the energy you need (which is why the body must get the energy from fat cells). This is where it's important to get exercise, because it releases endorphines. Endorphines are hormones that make you feel good. Right now, I'm just losing weight, but if I want to stick with losing weight, I must exercise so that A.) I don't lose the muscle and strength I want to keep, B.) I do lose the fat I don't need, and C.) I feel good while doing it. No one will stick with anything that makes them feel terrible.

But, back to irritability... being calorie deficient means I'm losing weight, but it also means I don't have the energy I would like to have... which makes me tired a lot. Also, my body is not used to eating the lesser amount I've been eating... which, along with being tired, makes me a little snappy. Little things that shouldn't bother me aggravate me, and something that used to aggravate me makes me very angry now. It's normal to be grumpy when tired, but when you're tired all the time, as I am now, there must be something better than being grumpy all the time. I think as I stay with the weightloss that the hormones in my body will stabilize, and I'll be back to my old self... but right now it's a little difficult to be happy and upbeat when I'm constantly tired. So, I try to keep myself busy, that way I don't have too much time to think, and the more I move, the better my weight loss will be. But as for right now, the changes are making me a little moody, and it's tougher to control my emotions, both high emotions and low.

So, we'll see how this goes. Hmmm, I think I'll post my weight in order to keep myself accountable.

End of January 2011 -- 268 pounds
End of February 2011 -- 256 pounds
and 56 pounds to go. Drücke die daumen, bitte.

Movies

Movies and books, great ways to get out of one's head and back to living one's life. Watched Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog again. Great, just what I needed. :) If you haven't seen it, you must. If you have seen it, yeah, you know how good it is. ;)

A life without Illusions?

Yesterday I had my head stuck in a book. Today I'm stuck in my head. Recently I've read some things that shattered a few of my illusions. We are nothing without our illusions. They are our hopes, our dreams, our means to satisfaction. The closer they are to the truth, the better; but illusions are very important regardless.

I tried to live a life without illusion... it led me to a dull, grey, and apathetic world. I thought if I rid myself of illusions, that I would be living in a true world, free of great disappointments and undue celebrations. I was right. Unfortunately, this illusion-less world also led me to depression. I discovered that the world around us does exist independently of us. If you stand on a mountaintop and proudly declare to the universe, "I EXIST!" the answer you will receive is silence. Not because you don't really exist, but because the universe simply doesn't care. Illusions are the colors we paint onto the grey world that surrounds us. It is a human condition; illusions and the imagination that creates them. It helps to seperate us from animals. They live in the world as it is; we live in the world we create.