What Kind of Witchery Is This?

I literally didn’t want anything this Christmas. I still have Google Music (under the family plan so everyone in the fam gets it as well as commercial-free YouTube) and I purchased ESPN/Sports package so I could watch my fall sports (which I canceled last week.) I’m drowning in stuff so I didn’t want anything. Besides, I have my obsessions that I indulged for many years and I’m now trying to use/purge. My wife and kids still have other ideas, and if nothing else, I have to chuckle at what they did get me.

“What kind of witchery is this?” was my response when I stumbled upon something on YouTube. I had to ask Tracy what it was. “That’s a Bath Bomb.” I had to watch it a couple of times just to understand what I was seeing. It seems most of the female gender knows more about it than I do practically, but I am interested in the chemical makeup, the feeling as it dissolves in one’s hand. Madsen gifted me a couple of those.

“Here Dad.” Was Bennet’s comment when he placed a heavy box on my lap. He just handed me a gift-wrapped case of Diet Dr. Pepper. “We know how important that is to you.” was Tracy’s remark when I unwrapped it.

“I hope you like them, Dad.” Ellie smiled. I had just unwrapped 4 LED bulbs. I’m honestly not sure where that obsession came from or if it even qualifies. I like going to the bulb section of Home Depot. I rarely buy anything though. I have a collection of bulbs, I must admit. I have a lot of 100W incandescents that I bought before you couldn’t buy them as the 100W fluorescents sucked at the time. The LEDs are much nicer so I miscalculated that need. (We only have one fixture that uses them, the garage.) I have a lot of other CFLs because I found some screaming deals on them and we were going through them pretty quickly. I still am not sure if they last longer than incandescents. Anyway, Ellie picked up on that and now I have 4 more LEDs.

Tracy gave me a board game that I’ve been looking at for many months, Tiny Epic Galaxies. They’ve come down in price too so it was a very good choice. And she also fed into my writing implement obsession buying me a box of Pilot pens. I loved that brand back in college. My favorite pencil is also a Pilot but I know they don’t have that particular kind any longer. Still, the old box of 12 that must have been moldering away on a shelf for the last 30 years or so is appreciated. (I carry 2 that I picked up in college in my backpack.)

Not a super haul, but at least I’m understood by my family. I guess that is more important than things anyway.

My Gift Anxiety

I have gift anxiety. It really didn’t come to the forefront until I started dating. The realization that I could never find a gift to represent my feelings, or the feeling of inadequacy because I wasn’t inventive enough to find the perfect gift is a special kind of hell. It wasn’t until after I married Tracy that it came to the forefront and there were lessons involved for both of us. I needed to be more verbal in my feelings of anxiety, to quash the fears that I had. Tracy was more than understanding. It wasn’t that I was trying to get out of a relationship requirement, but I have misread people in the past and I was just then becoming aware of how badly I had misread my own issues. I am a very emotional person, and a gift, a thing that I could hold in my hand, was never going to be enough.

I mentioned this to Tracy last night. Our daughter was out with friends and after many hours at the mall, just got around to asking her Mother, “Mom, what do you want for Christmas?” It is kind of frustrating to have a daughter that waits always for the last minute, but I’m not one to complain too much either. I waited until the last week myself.

After smiling and sighing in frustration, I told Tracy, “I want to tell you how much I appreciate you letting me know what you want. It does make it all so much easier.”

“Not a problem.” She replied, “You let me know all year long how much you love me. I don’t need something one time a year.”

I think that is what makes this time of year tolerable for me. Otherwise, if I thought my life was only appreciated because of my ability to find the perfect present, it would crush me. And yes, while it is an irrational fear, it has that significance for me. Instead, Tracy and I have learned to work around our anxieties. If she wants something, she gets it herself. I rarely complain. Well, almost rarely. I have other anxieties that I have to quash too. I get stuff too, but I also deny a lot of impulses of mine also. I can be selfish. And I have to realize that sometimes that’s allowed.

That isn’t to say that I don’t have my moments. Tracy did want me to mention about a waffle iron I once bought her for Christmas. I don’t like waffles but it was a big part of her growing up. She claims it was the most romantic thing I ever got her. I am not sure what to do with that information.  

I also found a few pieces of jewelry that she liked. It wasn’t diamonds or precious stones, but it did say that I paid attention to what she was into. I don’t know if they lasted all that long. Considering that we have the understanding that we can get what we want ourselves, it is usually the small things that are left over. I just wish that realization, that it doesn’t matter, could burrow through the anxiety I have that it is never enough.

My kids are better at it than I am too. At least, being adopted, they didn’t pick up that gene from me. While going through a store, Madsen looked down, picked up something and said, “Mom will like this.” I had to chuckle because yes, she would like it. I’m glad he was able to find a trinket like that and know that this would be enough to make his mother happy. (We are trying to make Christmas a much more quiet, subdued affair.) 

South Elgin Winter Wonderland Concert - Wind Ensemble

An American Fanfare - Rick Kerby

Let Freedom Sing (soloist David Larsen) - arr. John Moss

A Festival Prelude - Alfred Reed

Prelude, Sicilano and Rondo - Malcolm Arnold

Christmas Music for Winds - arr. John Cacavas

Sleigh Ride

Tapping the Can

I came across a YouTube video this morning that sparked a memory. It was an experiment to determine if tapping the top of a soda can reduce the bubbles and foam when you open a shaken can. It was something my girlfriend at BYU used to do and was something that I picked up later. Did I think it reduced bubbles? No, not really. It became more of an homage to a time in my life, as a lot of my quirks and obsessions started around the same time. In any case, it brought a particular incident to mind.

I’ve already written about my depression on my mission. I didn’t even know it was depression until about 7 years ago. In any case, my depression and desperation for acceptance led me to my being a first-class tool. It led to the person I trusted and cared for the most to tell me to never contact her again. I promised if only to myself, to respect that request. I can’t say I kept that promise, but at the time I did. This led to a self-loathing and realization that I had become someone I despised. After establishing that, I had to ditch the personality that I had fostered the past year and that the culture of the mission and the church, in general, had to get out of my sphere of personal influence, not easy to do on a mission. I purged. I mean, I decided to only focus on my upcoming return to school and rebuild my personality into something that I could be happy with. I never wanted to be such an ass ever again.

So where does that tapping of a can of soda come into this story? It will. Patience.

When you wipe out a lot of your own self and ignore aspects of what is going on around you, you have to fill it with something else. I had a companion that would listen to me. I don’t think he particularly liked me, but he at least would listen. I feel sorry for the guy now, as I was sad almost all the time. Even then, it was an emotion that I didn’t want to have. Anyway, I remember driving once with him and my arm was out the window playing with the airstream. He abruptly stopped the car, pointed at me and said forcefully, “Stop it! You’ve been copying all my mannerisms for the past couple of weeks and it is driving me crazy. You want to be you. You have no right to be me!” I remember being shocked, looking down at my hands with the realization that I was doing that. OK. So I was now aware that I had something else to watch for. I apologized. I pledged that I would do better. 

I’m not sure how much longer that companion was with me. I know he allowed me a wide berth as I tried to find out who I should be again. I know the self-imposed isolation that a mission puts on missionaries was driving me crazy. I was an introvert, true, but I couldn’t deal with such isolation and I did the first thing that got me a reputation to being a rebel; I subscribed to a newspaper. I only kept it a few months, but it did remind me of something about myself. When I was in Boston, I would listen to NPR occasionally, just because I needed a connection to the world. In New York, I joined a scientific book club because I needed intellectual stimulation. In CT, there was a large group of nannies that worked there and it did me so much good to talk to people, girls even, my age. By the time I left to go back to school, I had re-organized myself so I could be normal again, a person that I wanted to be. I was still weird  (and Tracy can verify), but at least I overcame the worst time in my life.

And I decided to tap the top of my soda cans as a reminder that I can choose to be who I want to be, down to the mannerisms I carry with me, even if I borrowed them.

Note: I want to state that I don't post these for anything other than my own cathartic processes. I have not talked about this most of my life and I want to be a fairly open person. I don't do this to embarrass anyone or for any other reason other than to give some things words. What I wanted to share with this post was my interaction with my companion, and how my actions at the time upset him, and what I took away from it.

The bad part of being the most influential time of your life doesn't necessarily mean it was pleasurable. It goes against the accepted narrative. It isn't something that you might choose for yourself.

Respect

I have been watching with some dispassionate interest all the outing of the sexual harassers in Hollywood. Mind you, the only reason we are seeing this is due to the renown of these people. Who knows all the things that go on in areas where there is less visibility.

Look, I don't know what goes on in these men's minds to make them think this is all okay. To say that I can't even put myself in that place that they inhabit is an understatement. I'm not perfect, not by any stretch. I have a sordid imagination. In reality though, I have enough trouble making friends with the opposite sex, let alone any of that nonsense. I generally don't care who does what with whom. But I do know that those things have to be negotiated. It can't be assumed, especially any kind of sexual activity. I've mentioned that I tend towards more of a radical consent model. Don't do anything unless that other person or persons know exactly what you want to do. Simple. Awkward probably, but it is something that shows you respect the other person. Even if surprise is to be an element of the relationship, that needs to be discussed.

Seriously. Louis CK getting naked and masturbating. That's all fine and good if that was agreed to, but to do that without any, um, foreplay. I can't imagine how horrible of a position that puts the other person in. Plus, while I can only take so much of the guy, I thought he at least understood some of the boundaries between men and women. Evidently not.

And the stories I get from women and what some men send them. The "dick pics" need to stop. First, it is objectively the ugliest part of a man but secondly, shows a narcissism that, I would think, is a completely undesirable trait. If you want to send nudes to each other, fine. I honestly don't care if that is something you are into, but that kind of thing has to be consented to.

I swear, I think about all the things mankind has accomplished and how far we've come in many aspects of society, and then this stuff happens. Have we not left the trees behind? Millenia of evolution and we still have this nonsense.

Well, we still have wars, so maybe we haven't come as far as I would personally desire.

<I reserve the right to add and expound on this post at any time in the future. My levels of outrage change frequently.>

Ask Me

I’m not sure if this is a new subject for me. I know I’ve told others about it. Last night, I heard Tracy mention it to her brother. Of course, I want to add a few things.

Shortly after Tracy and I married, she had a concert that she wanted to go to. She left hints, suggestions, whatnot for me to get the tickets. I’m sure she was thinking I was dense. I’m sure I was. In any case, as time went on, she became frustrated with me and eventually it came to a fight. I am fuzzy on the details but I walked out, bought some tickets, came home and put them on the table. “Next time, ask me.”

(Tracy has a different perspective on this. "You mean I can ask for what I want? I don't have to hint or manipulate you?")

This was a lesson for both of us. My previous relationships usually had me struggling to be someone that would be interesting. I found I sucked at mindreading. I’ve always had a problem with feeling inadequate in those little things that a woman might expect. I’d do almost anything, but I was an idiot and didn’t know what those “anythings” were. Dating was a horrible stress for me.

When I came back from my mission, I was determined to not fall into that situation again. I had two miserable years of depression and I was done with it. Tracy was an independent person and was one of the things that attracted me to her. I must also add that when she displayed traces of dependency, I had my own little freak outs. (I don’t like the word, dependency, here but I’m not sure what else to say.) Before our wedding, her parents bought her some things in ZCMI and that really stressed me out. I certainly couldn’t afford to do that after we were married. Yes, it was a gift for her but it raised some issues with expectations. We worked it out.

And we worked out the tickets to the concert. We worked out a lot of things in our marriage. We knew we had different interests to the point of taking separate vacations. If she wanted to go somewhere, she would ask me if I wanted to go along or not and visa versa. It wasn’t a reflection of our interest to be together. We had translated that part of our “love-language.”

I mention this because she brought it up to her brother and I also brought it up due to one of my trips. I had met a friend and she showed me around her part of the country. Just talking with her gave me things to think about for years, and I was quite contemplative at the time. She probably thought I was upset. In any case, she was hungry and she hinted, even to a figurative hitting me in the head with a 2x4, that she wanted to eat at this particular place. It didn’t register with me. Remember, I’m an idiot. Never forget that. Burn it into your minds for the next couple of decades. In any case, she didn’t tell me, “Stop here. I want to eat here.” And what followed was a time of frustration for me. I haven’t had to negotiate that language with someone in a long time. I was amazed that I had become so dependent upon Tracy knowing how to interact with me. Sheesh, no wonder people who date later in life or after a partner has died or divorced have an awkward time with this relationship thing. All that stuff has to be renegotiated.

I try to please the people I’m with, and even if I try, there are still issues. I think my only saving grace is that I’m more open to talk about it now. Ask me if you want something, because I won’t know otherwise.

And remember, I’m an idiot.

To Eclipse and Back, Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Map

The road was still on and off traffic-wise. At some point, I was going to hit Champaign and get back on familiar roads for me. Around 12:30 I looked North and it was a wall of lightning. Great. I knew there was a chance of rain, but I thought I’d be home long before then. Now I’m south of it. I know from its position that Champaign was getting the full brunt of it and soon I’d hit that one-lane construction just south of the town. I had to get off the road and figure something out.

I pulled off the road at a small town called Tuscola. I parked at a well-lit outlet store. It had benches. I went and sat down and pulled out my phone. I called Tracy, just to let her know I was alive. She asked if I could find a hotel. “You don’t understand what this is like. The traffic is horrendous.” Besides, I was so close, relatively. I opened my weather app. HOLY CRAP!!! Just north of me was the edge of a weather system that stretched all the way to Kansas City. Crap!! I’m going to get wet. I hate riding in the rain. At least it is warm, I guess. OK. I can head west, take this road up to this road to this road, to this road…and then I’ll be on IL-47. Take that all the way home. OK. I can do this.
Off I went, so completely ticked off at all that this trip had turned out to be. I loved riding the bike but this was so annoying, still, it is something I can write abou….is that a bird? WHACK!!! A dove decided to spend the night on US-36 and when my lights hit it, it took to the air and didn’t make it past my windshield. Luckily, it didn’t fly up into my helmet. I did a sanity check, decided that I was okay and kept going. I thought I had seen a bird on the road earlier but I passed it off. Evidently, they hang out on roads at night. I wonder why? I turned north again at Atwood and noticed that the roads were wet, but it wasn’t raining any longer. The weather map did show a small corridor of rainless travel. Maybe if I can get this thing moving, I can still slip home in a dry state.

When I reached the town of Mohamet, I pulled over to check the weather again.  A big, big stretch of red, all the way to Elburn, lay in front of me. It was to the west too. Damn. I am going to get very wet. Well, might as well get this done. The place where I would hit the rain was fogged over on my way down. I figured that I would learn to resent this part of Illinois after this.

What can I say about driving in the rain? Nothing good. It is miserable. The sound of the rain hitting your helmet is unnerving. Don’t get me wrong, it is not that bad if you can keep your head dry, but your clothes get heavy. You get cold as the water and wind suck away your heat.  You can’t see very well and you become almost invisible to other traffic behind you. It became an absolute downpour. A few trucks passed me because two wheels on wet pavement isn’t something you want to do at speed. It became so bad due to no visibility and feeling like I weighed 400 pounds that I put on my blinkers and hoped a town was somewhere and that I could pull off the road.  That stopover was named Gibson City, where I had stopped and rested at the Bible Church on the way down. I pulled off the road into a parking lot that was 6-8 inches underwater. I got off the bike after parking at some sort of Mexican restaurant/bar (Pizza Hut on the map but it wasn’t). The time was around 1am. I pulled off the helmet and took inventory and was feeling miserable. After some time, I called Tracy (My new phone was still working!) to let her know that I was stuck. I had moved around to the north side of the building and decided I needed to save battery. I had set my gloves down on a window sill. I picked them up and noticed that the building was lousy with spider webs. I wasn’t nervous, but a little creeped out. As soon as the rain let up, just a little, I’d head to where I saw lights (Yeah, the rain made it hard to see even up the road.) I was hoping it was a gas station or something. Any place to get out of the rain fully.

https://www.google.com/maps/@40.454339,-88.3747333,837m/data=!3m1!1e3

So I got back on the bike after about half an hour and moved the couple hundred meters to what turned out to be a Casey’s station. The bike was parked off to the side, still in the rain and I finally found a place out of the rain under the canopy. I was still soaked and a check on the phone showed rain at least until late morning. Great. Just Great.

After texting with Tracy and a few calls, I resigned to my fate of spending the rest of the night standing there. The only motel in town was under renovation and besides, it was late and there was still eclipse traffic making their way north. After about an hour, another biker came up and parked by the pumps. We struck up a conversation and compared notes. He didn’t have a phone so he kept looking at mine to see when we could resume our way north. All during this, Tracy was making calls to see if there was somewhere nicer where I could sit. She called the police department, the hospital, anywhere to try and ease my discomfort, and I do appreciate that. I’m sure I wasn’t rational. I had been up for 24 hours by that point. I was tired. I was soaked. At one point, I had set my phone in my shirt pocket and it had turned on. I was sending garbage texts to Tracy as the phone bumped against me. One of them autocorrected to something about a raccoon. Tracy thought I was losing my mind or lying in a ditch somewhere.

As the night went on, another biker came and parked. He had rain gear on and we wondered why he had stopped. “My visor flew off. Having your face pelted with rain isn’t pleasant.” So there we sat. Three bikers in the middle of Illinois in a small factory town, taking shelter in a gas station. One of my companions convinced the clerk to put some of his clothes in the dryer they had in the back. I bought some cheese and a meat stick to pay for my convalescence. I hadn’t realized how hungry I had become and it immediately had a profound reaction on me. That stuff was wonderful.

Ok, about 5:30 or 6:00, I was getting anxious and I wanted to get home. I never thought I’d spend the night in a gas station and I didn’t enjoy it. The guy with the broken visor had left around 4:30 but the rain was still too hard for me to try at that time. It was still dark, but I looked on the app, and the rain seemed to be tapering off. The guy that arrived after me wanted me to leave with him. I told him I would but that I don’t go that fast in the rain. So, once again, I put on the wet helmet, gloves and sat on the wet bike. Off we went. I kept up with him to the north part of town where we stopped behind a semi that was also waiting for a train to enter the factory. Once the train left and the gates went up, my companion bolted around the semi, earning him a toot from the truck. I didn’t feel safe to do any nonsense like that so I stayed behind the truck, letting it get a good speed up ahead of me so I wasn’t in its backwash. I think I lost sight of the other guy after about 4 miles.  It was still raining and while it was warm standing still, on the bike at speed, I was beginning to shiver and feeling very uncomfortable. I could feel water pooling in my left boot. Eventually, I just couldn’t do it anymore. Even slowing down wasn’t helping. A few miles more and I saw that I was going to enter another town, named Forrest. I was a few blocks in when I pulled into another Casey’s and parked under the canopy this time. I got off the bike, got on the entrance skirting and took off my left boot. I swear I thought water would come out. Nope, but I was thoroughly wet and miserable.  So I stood there. The sun came started to come up and the rain slacked a bit more. I could feel the exhaustion start to sneak in around the corners of my mind. I needed to get home because I knew there wasn’t much between here and there.

When the light came up, I slipped on the wet boot. Who knows what people thought when the filled up for their morning commute and saw a guy standing there with one boot on and one boot off.  Anyway, I figured that with the lower rain volume, I could go 10 or 15 miles and stop somewhere to warm up. I’m going to be wet regardless. Might as well get used to that. So I got back on the road, crossed the train tracks, and headed north. About the top speed I could do was 45 before I became uncomfortable and shiver all the time. It was still raining, but more of a sprinkle at this point. I was still soaked. I didn’t make it too far before I had to stop again. This time in a Marathon station in Saunemin. Another half an hour watching traffic go by. I was waiting for the rain to stop this time. I could see the northern end of the rain ahead. It was just there, Probably by Dwight, my next stop. I wanted to get past the rain so bad. While only a few drops hit the puddles, I had had it. I pulled on the wet gloves and hit the road, going 65 this time. Of course, while the rain was lessened, an entire string of Semis heading south made sure I was still wet to the core. Even then, I could see the line of clouds. I could see the sky brighten just after that cloud front. I entered Dwight and felt a leap of joy building. It had taken me so long to get there, and I was feeling a sense of relief that I wasn’t expecting.

I was hungry. I stopped in the McDonalds. I also picked out some feathers from my front shield, left for my earlier bird-strike. I wasn’t so much hungry as I needed caffeine. I was so tired, but I had to get home and I was so tired. It was about 8am or so at that point, and I felt that I was so close to home when in reality, I still had an hour or two left to go. I pulled off my jacket waiting for my order.  God, I was miserable.

Ok, after about 45 minutes letting the caffeine from my soda enter into my cells, I decided that with one push, I could make it home. I couldn’t put the gloves back on. My hands were still pruned and I thought the gloves would just make the cold worse. Now, it was not a good feeling for me to ride without gloves. I’ve religiously wore them during my rides. You could probably tell how desperate I was just from the action of not wearing gloves. I’d been awake longer than ever, I think, since college. I don’t function well when tired.

After several more miles going north, I entered Morris. Very familiar territory. The only thing worthy of note at this point was that I was struggling to stay awake. I noticed it first heading into Dwight, that I’d stop functioning. I was still driving and riding, but my brain had shut down. That was why I needed the caffeine. It wasn’t enough. North of Morris, I passed into that phase again. I became aware and I was in the other lane. Holy crap, get back in your lane!!! I had come to just before a car came over the slight rise. I had to do inventory. I had probably come closer to dying than most any other time. I was not going to be a statistic. I couldn’t depend on my mind to keep me alert. I had to do something else. I decided that I needed to bite my finger every once in a while. That would keep me going. I did that and I slapped the bike about every 10 seconds. I did that until I felt awake and I did it all the way home. Also, in a more deserted stretch of road, I decided to sing. I'll never win any awards, but it kept me awake.

Last time I came home this wet, I was shivering uncontrollably and the house was empty. This time Tracy was home having dealt with her own issues with the family while I was gone. I stumbled upstairs to get the wet clothes off me and a quick shower. It is amazing the stuff that comes off your body after being in water for almost 12 hours. I hit the bed and woke up about 6 hours later. I didn’t want to do this again.

But it was worth it.