Black Friday

Another Black Friday (or is it "Can't have enough marketing crap" Thursday) and my OCD is once again assuaged. I am not too proud to admit that I have a hoarding issues with a few things, pencils, paper and candles. Pencils and paper I get satisfied during the Back to School sales. Candles are more sporadic, only coming to the fore on the cold part of the year.

Time to admit where it comes from. This is all part of my coming clean with my life and my feelings on certain things. There are triggers to aspects of our lives, and I might as well admit to a few.

Paper and Pencils
This really started during high school and perhaps earlier. I always tried to be as frugal as I could and most of the time it was a game. I once copied an entire year's worth of science notes on one 8x11 sheet of paper. I did it mostly to see if I could. It probably helped my memory quite a bit.
College reinforced this. Not having a lot of money to spend on things and the fact that going through paper and pencils (mechanical by this time) at a prodigious rate had a little different effect on the noggin. I don't think any kind of hoarding happened, but I learned to appreciate office products. Does that make any sense?
My mission drilled this into my skull with a vengeance. You see, you can only communicate with loved ones back home via letters. Since the beginning of my mission was overseas, writing on good paper with a fine point became critical. I fell in love with engineering paper during my first years of college so I wrote important people using that. Others were relegated to the smaller aerograms. My depression of that first year made me want to write and write the ones I love trying to make sense of the flood of unfamiliar feelings and try to ease the pain I was experiencing in merely existing. Since the bank wasn't delivering any of the money my parents were sending, I had to rely on food that members gave and the few Francs I could borrow. There were more than a few weeks where I had to choose between eating or writing, and I chose writing. I don't know how much I passed this on to those I was writing. I know I sent several letters to my parents asking for money. I'm not sure I ever told anyone else of the other background things that were going on.
After I was transferred back to the states, the depression still continued. I became more and more desperate in my writing as I circled the drain that appeared to be my life. Writing everyday became one of the few joys in my days. After the depression broke, my writing dropped off markedly. I didn't feel that I could trust myself in writing. My emotions had betrayed me, and that was reflected in my writing and I kept much of my communication at a minimum.
Restarting college ramped up the writing again. I was actually in my major and I went through that expensive engineering paper and mechanical pencils at an increasing rate. I was also a custodian in the business school. I had access and responsibilities to clean up classrooms and an almost limitless access to dropped pencils and pens. I kept them, and I used them, but I never used as much as I found. I still have a lot of them. Granted, I threw away many of the pencils, but I kept the leads. I have a LOT of leads to this day. It reminds me of the most hectic and probably the happiest time of my life.
I also used writing in dating. I had a very welcome habit of leaving love notes and love letters to the girls I was dating.
I buy a small number of paper pads and mechanical pencils every year. I have a set limit so it isn't like I have boxes of the stuff, but I do admit that I like to touch them every once in a while, just to remind me of a different time, if nothing else.

Candles
Not sure where this began. It was fairly recent, but I always have liked fire. Candles and matches have always had a thing with me, but nothing like arson or anything else felonious. I just like a flame, and a small one is nice to have around. I think I have this in check, but to use what I buy means I just have to be more cognizant of lighting them and using them.

Soap
This is more of an opportunity purchase. Walgreens once had good prices on it and I purchased it because it was a good price. Later, I realized that soap with tallow was ruining my skin during the winter months and I started getting soap that didn't have that ingredient. My stockpile in this is also shrinking.
Within this hoarding is the little soaps and shampoos that I collect from hotel stays. I have a small collection of these too, but I consciously use them as I can.

Cologne
Directly attributable to college. A woman I was dating once gave me some samples and during my mission, I would smell them just to remember what it was like being a normal person. I still use cologne as a way of remembering certain people and places. I probably have more cologne now than I could ever use, but I still enjoy the memories I have when I open them. It is like a scrapbook for me.

That's it. I might have a few more but these are the ones that tickle my brain more than others. Whenever I think I'm too smart to fall for any kind of nonsense, I remember that I still have some fairly primitive behaviors in my anxiety closet and I'm in no place to criticize others.

My Name Is Baby

my name is BABY and you lean out of your car and spit at my feet it lands in a puddle in front of me and i am thirteen and in a suburban neighborhood on the way home from school and i gag and run with my backpack banging like the echo of your words against my back like you are chasing me all the way home

my name is SWEETIE and i am fifteen in the city with my friends for the first time and we get a little lost and you follow us for a full block you name my friends HONEY and DARLING and WHY THE FUCK WON’T YOU TALK TO ME

my name is NICE ASS and it’s two in the afternoon and i still feel my heart slam against my ribs because i am under a hundred and fifty pounds and i have weak lungs and weaker fists and while you saunter down the steps, swinging the beer bottle in your fist, my father who is walking behind me shouts, “she’s seventeen, you dipshit” and maybe i’m near my family but i don’t feel safe until we’re home again

my name is JAILBAIT and my friend is laughing and we just graduated high school and we feel like we are on the brink of something beautiful and terrifying and she is in heels and about to throw up and you name her DRUNK ENOUGH and i have to physically drag you off and when we go home she cries for four hours because a night that should have been just teenage fun almost resulted in the end of her trust of humans

my name is LOOK AT THOSE TITS and we are on a college campus and the boy i am with holds onto my waist just a little tighter while you drive up next to me. you name him THUG and throw a bottle at his forehead. i can’t stop shaking until long after it’s over. he says “it happens,” and i say, “it shouldn’t.”

my name is DAMN GIRL and we are walking down the street. there are ten of you and two of us and you snap a picture when you think we’re not looking. you tell us to either come inside or you’ll fuck us on the street. you all laugh like this is funny. this is compliment. this is just something boys do to get ladies.

my name is LITTLE LADY, my name is FINE MISS, my name is FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR FRIENDS, my name is LOOK ME IN THE FACE, my name is STOP FROWNING, my name is SMILE, my name is WHY DID YOU EVEN GLANCE AT HIM YOU WERE ASKING FOR IT, my name is THIS IS A COMPLIMENT so i looked it up according to Oxford that’s “a polite expression of praise or admiration” i think you’ve got the definitions mixed up

my name is PRETTY THING, my name takes nice words and make them into bullet wounds my name is NICE BODY and no girl i know has dated a man who catcalled her, my name is GREAT RACK and it turns out that if you shout things at a stranger, they sound like knives more than flowers, my name is WOMEN LIKE YOU NEVER KNOW THEIR PLACE and every single “nice” thing you say to a woman is something you’d never utter to another man because you know that it’s derogatory, my name is PRINCESS and A REASON TO GET PUT IN PRISON and if another man spoke to your mother sister girlfriend like that, you’d kill him

my name is SEXY and every time i hear someone raising their voice i am thirteen again and i don’t know who you are and i’m running home with a weight on my shoulders and your words like a slap to my spine and your laughter like a hanging, i am scared and alone and suddenly so small,

and compliments are supposed to make me feel good not afraid for my life, compliments are a way of saying “i care and i appreciate you and i thought you should know it,” and if you really meant it as a compliment, you’d care about how i would take it - but you don’t mean it like that, you mean it to show off, you mean it to make us object, you mean it to shove our names into your back pocket so you can tell your friends “i saw the HOTTEST LITTLE THING yesterday” and they can groan about how we just walked away because you don’t see us go home with keys in our fists and all the lights on and we keep 911 dialed just in case and we triple-check our locks and we don’t fall asleep at all because your compliment knocked us over and took who we are

if we are all saying “it doesn’t sound like a compliment, it sounds like a threat,” if you really wanted to make us feel good - wouldn’t you stop doing it?

—COMPLIMENT =/= CATCALL

Location, Location, Location

I think it is about time I tell some of you where I am in my life. 18 months or so ago my family and I stopped attending the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. For some, this isn’t new information. For others it may be. I just want to say that we’re fine. Tracy and I are doing fine and the kids are thriving in their schooling and other aspects of their lives. We are happy where we are.

Why we aren’t attending is a personal question, one I won’t address here. It was a major life change and one that upset how I identified myself. It wasn’t an easy road re-evaluating how I felt about certain aspects of my life. However, it was a good move for me. I don’t regret it at all.

I’m not here to preach any new-found insight. I’m just here to announce that I’m finally comfortable in my own mind to state where I am in the world.

And a beautiful world it is.

Sooner or Later

I have always used my trips and my rides to try and calm the demons in my mind, to think over the questions and the quandaries that exist in my reasoning. I took my last rides as part of that continuing task. Aside from my falling from the bike, as documented earlier, I really didn’t do any demon killing. The absence was startling, and refreshing. After one of the most emotional times in my life, I’m feeling that it is over. My normal interests and passions are returning, hopefully without the annoying things that I’ve purged from my life.

I had a song go through my mind during my ride up to Minneapolis. While the song is directed at a person, my own take on it wasn’t pointing to another person. I generally don’t want to purge people from my life. The reference that I used was towards the person that I used to be. I think I’ve figured some things out in my life and had to change for my own sanity. I’m content with where I am. It's about time.

Alan Parsons Project
Sooner Or Later

Oh what a price we pay
For the things we say
And the closer I get to you
The further you move away

All the lies we tell
In the games we play
And the longer I think it over
The harder it is to stay

Sooner or later I'll be free
To leave the past behind
Sooner or later you're gonna be
The last thing on my mind
Little by little I'm finding out
The truth behind your eyes
Maybe if I don't show
I thought you might like to know
You're gonna be the last thing on my mind

You didn't want to know
I could have told you so
But the moment I think it's over
The further there is to go

Just a little word
Such an easy way
But the longer I think about it
The harder it is to say

Sooner or later I'll be free
To leave the past behind
Sooner or later you're gonna be
The last thing on my mind
Little by little I'm finding out
The truth behind your eyes
Maybe if I don't show
I thought you might like to know
You're gonna be the last thing on my mind

Youtube Lyric Video

The River, the Ditch and the Tent Poles

I can’t say I’d been looking forward to the trip, but I had been planning it for some time. Last year I wanted to make a trip along the Illinois River. Well, I wanted to make that trip and then a trip up the Mississippi to the Twin Cities. The rivers carve out a valley in-between the bluffs and I find the terrain very therapeutic. Still, there is yet another huge project at work and I’d be leaving in the middle of that to take this trip. It isn’t that I feel bad because the corporation gives me paid time off and if I don’t use it, I’d be stuck taking it in January or just losing it. I’m not the one that schedules it in the middle of the summer either.

So I was off. Right away, I should have seen the signs that this wasn’t going to turn out the way I had planned. I got on IL64 and somehow fell in behind a truck that was hauling or had hauled manure. Since that is the best road west for me, I figured that I’d get an opportunity to pass him. No such luck, for this was a work day, and I was going against all the people coming in for work. I was stuck, at least until Sycamore was in the rear-view. I kept fading back as much as I could to try and get a breath of fresh air. I wonder if the truck-driver even noticed it anymore. At the first opportunity, I headed south, figuring the grid system would take me straight to IL38. Nope. I was in a grid but got on the one road that doesn’t head south all the way down. After a bit, I did get on IL38, but I figured I lost some time, not that I was in a hurry.

On the normal way down along the Illinois, on IL29, I decided to take a side road to see Depue. I’ve been on that road several times and never took a look at the town off the road. I was rewarded by a villiage, probably not long for this world, with a railroad depot (closed) and two engines for the Illinois RR tooling around. I wandered around and took a few pictures. I also stopped by Bureau Junction rededicating myself to start that bicycle ride along the canal.

Then the adventure began. As I was heading past Joliet, I passed a road up the bluff and on the top was a totem pole. In keeping with my desire to see interesting things, I turned around and headed up the hill. It wasn’t too bad, but it did have a steep switchback and I must admit that I had never tried to negotiate that kind of thing with the bike. There was an SUV headed down right at the time I arrived at the switchback and I had to slow to let it pass. Unfortunately, I was in second instead of my expected first and the motor started to sputter. I gave it a little more gas hoping to tease it into keep going. It stalled. I started to drift back and while I hit the brakes and put my foot down to steady the bike, my foot hit nothing and over I went into the ditch. It was pretty quick. I honestly had only a few thoughts. My head hit the other side of the concrete ditch and I was very thankful that I had a helmet on. As I scrambled out from under the bike, I took inventory. I wasn’t hurt. I looked back down the road to see the SUV that was coming down stop and then continue on. I can’t say I can blame. I’m a biker. Who the hell knows what kind of disposition I might have been in? I looked at the bike as it sat horizontally in the ditch. I was reminded about people as they mention their father passing, how someone so powerful and strong was now so frail and weak in their death bed. I looked at the bike the same way. It was a great machine, and now how am I going to get this hunk of metal out of a ditch, on a hill? I set my helmet down on the inside hill and it promptly began to roll down the ditch too. I must have been a sight running down the ditch trying to retrieve the helmet before it became too battered to use.

After a few people stopped asking if I was alright and if I needed to call someone, “I’m fine. I’ll call someone when I get my wits back, thank you.” I started to strip the bike of what I could to try and make it lighter. The saddle bag that the bike was resting on was going to be a challenge. I was trying to lift the back of the bike and turn the key to disengage it from the frame. A wonderful woman stopped and got out and asked if she could help. I was frustrated and she and I did get the bag off, but the contents were trying their best to come out of it. With the bags off, I grabbed hold of the handle bars and told her that it was very top heavy so this wouldn’t be easy. I think I pulled every muscle I had in my arms getting the bike upright. I thanked her and while she stood there, I made sure the bike would start, as I needed it to run to get it out of the ditch. A guy driving a septic truck stopped and I told him that I needed to maneuver the bike backwards down the ditch until I could get to a place that I could drive out. Another man stepped out of a jeep as he was told someone was stuck on the hill and needed help. As I sat on the bike, they lifted the back end of the bike so I could get down to a culvert where they backed the bike and I could get out of the ditch. I was dubious as the slope was such that I had to get speed up to make it out and my feet would have to leave the ground. I had only about a foot of slope to climb, but I was still nervous about letting the bike fall again, this time with me on it and no saddlebags to protect my legs. Still, a sort burst of the gas, and I was out. I was still shaken and the guy with the jeep invited me up to his house so I could gather my nerves.

At his house, I tried to get a signal to call Tracy and let her know what happened. The damage on the bike was mostly scratches and the cap on the end of the handlebars was off slightly. I figured a few whacks with the hammer could set that right. I told her that I was cancelling and heading home. I honestly didn’t know if the bike was screwed up or not. I purposefully got this bike because it could be beaten up and abused.  I didn’t want a bike just to look pretty and if it got scratched and dented, it really didn’t matter to me. My bikes and cars are just stuff, and I’m not defined by my stuff. Tracy told me to keep going if I could, to get my confidence back. I kind of wondered at that statement. I didn’t feel any less confident. I’ve been falling off bikes since I was 3. My only concern with the motorcycle is that I didn’t want to do it at speed. This had made the third time I fell on this bike, all from very slow speed or a stop. Pfft. As long as the bike was OK and I wasn’t bleeding, I was good.

I headed back on the road and wandered my way down the Illinois. One thing of note happened before arriving into Joliet was a flock of pelicans that were overhead. They formed into a V and then it broke up and then other Vs were formed all while moving in circles. It was a fantastic sight. Riding down in the valley and with the bluffs on one side of me made me feel like I was in a different place. I was reminded of riding on US89 in Utah with hugging one side of the valley with mountains or hills on the side. It was a beautiful ride.

The part of the ride that I wanted to take was now ahead of me. South of I-72, the fields would give way to forest, ivy covered forest. I felt completely removed from the Illinois that I dealt with day to day. I passed by a lovely little power-plant, a beached riverboat, and some quaint little towns that tried to get tourists to spend their dollars there. The last time I was through this section of the state, I was coming north and I liked the different perspective. I went down to Brussels and was met with the juxtaposition of corn-fields and cliffs. One outcropping reminded me of Squaw Peak in Provo and I attempted to get the corn and the cliff together. I couldn’t do it well as there were powerlines along the way and it was getting difficult to get on and off the bike. I had stiffened up since my fall and the drugs made the pain less, but the leg was getting awkward. As I drove on through the area, I noticed that each little puddle or pond had an egret, a bird that I’m very fond of. I wish I could have stopped and taken a picture of each one, but experience has shown me that a camera phone just doesn’t do it justice.

The trip across the Illinois on the ferry was uneventful, and I did have a front seat view. I was reminded of a book that I read from Neil Peart when he was taking his epic ride around North America. He was riding on a ferry and took his helmet off and worried that people would recognize him. He usually travels under a legal alias. I had no such worries and the biker that entered the ferry with me let me know that accidents happen and I shouldn’t feel that bad about falling.

I got to Pere Marquette in short order, looking forward to getting the tent up, a shower and rested for my exploring the next day. I found a spot (I was the only one in the whole place tent-camping) and got out my brand new tent. I spread the contents and realized….hmmm, no tent-poles. DAMN IT! NO TENT POLES! No cell signal to call Tracy so she could find me a place to stay….I have to get on that bike again and ride down to St. Louis, most likely. AUGGH!

If you have never been down along the Illinios and Mississippi confluence, I highly recommend it. It is beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Coming up the river was some piece of equipment on a barge that I couldn’t identify. It looked like a turbine and rocket booster, combined. I wish I could have stopped for a picture. I did get to Alton, IL and called Tracy to help me find a place to stay. The place chosen was just off where I spent much of my time last time I was down here, right on Route 66. It wasn’t a place to write home about, but it had a clean bed and a shower. I hobbled across the street a few times for soda runs because I needed fluids, and not the warm water I brought with me.

The next morning, I rode down to Walmart to find chain-lube. I was worried that I drove 400 miles the previous day and all I could envision is the chain getting red-hot and breaking on the long, highway-speed trip home. No luck finding what I wanted there. Well, off I go anyway. I stopped at the Walmart at Litchfield and found the lube I wanted. It probably wasn’t needed, but I always fear my chain breaking. By the time I got to Bloomington, I was hurrying to beat some weather moving in. My last trip home from St. Louis also featured that exciting task. That time I got soaked by a cold rain and worried about hypothermia. I didn’t want that to happen again. Just south of Peru-LaSalle, I stopped at a small park to rest my eyes. There are times I get tired and restless and I found that if I could just close my eyes long enough for me to hit REM sleep, I’m good to go again. I wonder if anyone else has to do that while driving? Anyway, I reached home safe and sound.

Not bad for a few days off. I’m still stiff and my right side is still sore. I hope that will go away in a few days.

Wood

 I had to head up north to pick up my son from my parents' place, as well as help my parents with the winter’s wood. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the trip; an early six hours drive time but with a bad night’s sleep before hand and a very stressful couple of weeks at work to start the break.

An unexpected calm has taken over me. It wasn’t really on my radar either. I’ve been drawn to make the week meaningful with my kids, to let them know how much I think about them. I’m usually not this paternal, but the pull I’ve felt with them has been quite strong. I’ve been splitting wood for my parents and this morning, I realized that my three oldest kids were out there with me. A memory of mine was being made.  It was odd in that when I was growing up, I hated all wood related activities, yet here I was appreciating my own children and their doing this for their grandparents. Maybe what was remarkable is that they didn’t complain a bit. Not a bit. Now, I know I’ve changed too. I am not bothered anymore on the task. I’m the first one out the door, just to get it done, if for no other reason.

Changes. Perhaps that is what has been striking me.

The past few years have brought a lot of changes to my life. I’ve had to ask myself some very hard questions. I’ve asked myself what I truly believe, and that answer has turned my life upside down, putting me on a different path than the one that I had been forging for the past 30+ years. I’ve spend a large amount of time trying to understand, really understand, what I feel and some other things in my life. I know I can’t change the decisions in my life, but I had to understand them in the newer light that I’ve accepted. I needed to know that they were decisions that I can live with.

Who do I want in my life? I know I have little control over that particular portion of my life. I cannot make those decisions for others. I have a new set of friends, different things to talk about. Is this really what I want?

All these things kind of fade in the background as I once again embrace my past. I look up at the moon overlooking the family farm and realize that I’m at peace with where my life is right now. There are some things that I’d rather change, but over the past couple years, being at peace where I am is something that I have been pursuing relentlessly. Maybe I have arrived.

Cat Love

Yeah, I'm kinda weird. I stumbled upon this intimate moment while looking for work for the kids to do, because I'm kind of a tyrant that way.