Life Through Theo-Colored Glasses

Perusing the Dictionary In Pursuit of Pursuit

2008-10-31T10:36:00.002-05:00

I’ve been pretty good with spelling as far back as I can remember, but there are a few words that I always seem to have problems spelling correctly. There are two categories here, actually:

1. Words that I spell incorrectly and which I know are wrong as soon as I see how I’ve spelled them, and

2. Words whose spelling, despite looking at them on the page or screen, still eludes me.

This second category caught my attention recently. I began to wonder what it was about these words that make them so hard for me to get right. I mean, when I look at (or just think about looking at) the word spelled however I think it should be, I have an odd, sinking feeling that it's not right. But I can't figure how it should be spelled, either.

So, today the word is “pursue.” I tend to spell this “persue.” Sure, when they’re right next to each other, I’m pretty sure that the first one is correct - though there’s still room for doubt. So, I thought about this particular word for a while . . .

I think what messes me up is that there are two “u” vowels in it, right next to each other, but they are not pronounced the same. I think that’s why my brain wants to put something different than a “u” in the first spot. After all, the other “u,” in the “sue” part of the word, actually sounds like a “u” - “yooooooo.” I suppose that from now on I will need to remember that this word is one of those odd ones in this language. Odd to me, anyway.

Oh yeah. Don't even remind me of the existence of “peruse!”

Disgusting Freshity

2008-06-26T19:18:00.006-05:00

For the most part I really abhor marketing aimed at creating a softer image of something that is repugnant. Take political campaigns, for example. Those campaigns give opportunities for some of the most blatant white-washing of tombs. Though, since there's usually an opponent to delve and criticize, the marketing fluff avails very little.

Other times, the images that marketing portray are not so easily debunked. If the white-washing is really subtle, or if the nastiness of the material that is being covered up is not so nasty, the marketing can be really effective. I still am not sure which is worse. The subtle spins cover up only small sins, but which can endure unchallenged for a long time. The blatant ones will fool those who want to be fooled, but the rest of us just laugh at them.

Sometimes the marketing spin on a company is so wrong that it's funny. Here are some pictures of a local steel forge works, on Cortland Ave. These are shots taken from the outside, looking in through some of the "garage doors."

All in all, these shots show some pretty clean and orderly areas given what goes on in a forge. Still, there's lots of dirt and grime. And I can only guess at how smoky the places get at times.

Well, forges need marketing fluff, too. Or, at least, that's the impression I get from this banner that is stretched across Cortland avenue for people to see right alongside these grubby images:

It.

Is.

So.

Wrong.

Assorted Insanity (a.k.a. English Sucks)

2008-06-17T14:12:00.003-05:00

What do you associate with the word, "assorted?" For me, it is a box of assorted chocolates - the kind that are all mixed up so that you can't really tell what's inside the candy until you bite down on it. I mean, these boxes of chocolates almost always have the word "assorted" printed somewhere on the outside. So, for me,

Assorted = Chocolates

A few days ago the Word of the Day that is emailed to me from the Merriam-Webster web site was "assorted." Here's the definition that came with it:

as·sort·ed [uh-sawr-tid] – adjective

1.	consisting of different or various kinds; miscellaneous: assorted flavors; assorted sizes.

2.	consisting of selected kinds; arranged in sorts or varieties: rows of assorted vegetables.

3.	matched; suited.

[Origin: 1790–1800; assort + -ed²]

The first definition matched up closely with my own understanding of the word. But I read further and realized an interesting incongruity in my thinking. The second and third definitions imply some kind of order: sorting; arranged; matched. Funny, even though the root word, "sort" is pretty obvious, I'd never thought of this word as having anything to do with order - it was always miscellany/chaotic/unorganized to me.

So, does anyone use "assorted" to refer to something that's been sorted? Something that has varying parts, but which parts have been grouped together by some kind of sorting process? Not me. And I'm kind of ticked off that I never thought about it before. I mean, the word even says "sorted" in it!

I dunno. The weirdness probably comes from some long-forgotten, but gruesome past.

Stupid English with its sordid origins.

Ridiculous (but understandable) Apple-iciousness

2008-05-18T17:56:00.005-05:00

Does this seem a bit over-the-top to anyone?

I've seen all kinds of vending machines before, but I found this one in an airport. I mean, I completely understand how someone might have an urgent need for an accessory while traveling. But what tweaks my mind about this is not that it's a vending machine in an airport, but that:

You can buy things with a credit card
You can buy things that cost more than a couple dollars
You can buy things that you'd find in the Apple store

Take a closer look:

You can buy a freaking CAMERA???? Here's some more:

I didn't compare prices to see how jacked-up these vending-machine consumer electronics goods are, but I have to believe that they'd be as outrageous as a $5 candy bar.

However it did occur to me that this vending machine is perfectly placed. These are exactly the kinds of things that travelers would buy. Imagine the temptation with this machine staring at you while you are waiting for a long-delayed flight!

Talk about impulse buying . . .

You never know what you'll find on the way to church

2008-05-18T17:52:00.003-05:00

And, today, it was this:

I just love this! How cool would it be to buzz around the city in this, with your pet monkey riding in the sidecar?!?

"That'll be five cents, please."

2008-04-04T10:29:00.005-05:00

“There are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit” - 1 Corinthians 4:12

“There are varieties of approaches, but the same Bums” - 1 Theo 4:12

Last summer saw me hit one of the most stressful and angry times of my life. Ever. Those who know me well know that it takes A LOT to get me angry. Stress is a different story, but I am pretty good at not stressing over small stuff. So, suffice to say that I was in a pretty shitty place. It was so bad, in fact, that my well-honed ability to put a positive spin on (a.k.a. see the blessing in) any situation was utterly unable to spin me out of the feelings of anger and betrayal.

It was weird.

So it was during the first couple weeks of this “strangry” time - when my feelings were the most raw - that I was out with some friends having pizza at Piece, a pizzeria & brew pub near my apartment. I ended up leaving the group a little bit early because the strangriness welled up inside and I just needed to be by myself. I got up, excused myself, and started to walk home.

Walking along the sidewalk with my mind reeling and going over and over and over again the succession of events that got me to this place; thinking of ways to deal with it all; screwed up face; tears dripping their way across stubble and into my beard. I was looking straight ahead, but with my mind whirring at breakneck speed, I only saw as much as I needed to avoid walking into anything. I was in something of a state of shock, I think.

Five minutes into my walk and halfway home, as I walked along the sidewalk of Milwaukee Avenue looking like the sky had just fallen on me, I suddenly noticed a Homeless Guy walking towards me. As he neared, he held out his hand. I stopped and grabbed it.

“It’s OK, man. It’s not all THAT bad.” he says. He could clearly see my screwed-up face.

My mind was yanked out of its strangriness spiral for a moment. It hit me that this random stranger had just given a kind word where one was desperately needed. I felt a little bit better, and shook the hand that I’d just grabbed:

“Thanks, man. I know. I know. You’re right. Thank you!”

I realized that this guy was my angel. I mean, I really believe in angels: people, animals, things that God uses to help us out when we need it. This was just the right word at just the right time. I began to consider how wonderful it was to have a Random Stranger Homeless Guy bless me in this way. And that made me feel a little better, too.

I stopped shaking his hand, released it, and thanked him again as I walked past him, continuing my way home. I was only two steps beyond him when I heard him say,

“Hey man, have you got a dollar?”

[sigh]

Even Balaam’s ass was still an ass after God spoke through him.

Chasing Ambulances

2008-03-28T07:48:00.005-05:00

I have had to hire an attorney recently.

I thought I'd have to hire a second attorney, for a completely separate reason from the first attorney.

I have an attorney back in Texas that I hired for business & real estate reasons.

I have had several phone conversations with at least three or four other attorneys.

Oh yeah, and I work for attorneys. But none of the attorneys above were ones that I work with.

How the hell did I ever get to THIS place???

So, when I saw a television ad for a Chicago law firm that specializes in personal injury law (read: ambulance chasers) I mostly ignored it. There are a lot of those commercials, after all.

I ignored it until the final moments when they put a slide up with their contact information. When I read it, I had the strangest mix of laughter and disgust that I think I've ever felt.

Laughter: The firm's name is "VanPopering Law Offices." I couldn't help but see an extra "o" in the name "VanPopering." And that was funny.

Disgust: Their phone number - 1-800-S.O.S-HURT

That phone number, for me, encapsulates the whole ambulance chasing world: Revving up the litigation world; Litigating everything under the sun; Preying on hurt people; Driving up medical costs; Feeding the disgusting lack of responsibility that people take for their own health.

Do these kinds of attorneys actually help people (besides themselves)?

So, to ameliorate my disgust, I tried to turn it to funny. I put their phone number digits into http://www.phonespell.org and found some better ways to spell out that number:

800-POP-GURU
800-POP-GUST
800-SO-PITS-8
800-SO-PIUS-8

F*cking ambulance chasers . . .

Texas Contrasts

2008-03-10T19:41:00.004-05:00

The inspiration for this entry comes from a comment that Rob made to me during our trip to Texas last week.

When you are in Texas, near one of the major cities, you don't have to drive very far before you're in The Country. It is not uncommon to have the skyline of Houston/Dallas/San Antonio in view just a few miles away, as you try to pass an enormous combine on a two-lane farm-to-market road. After you pass that combine/herd of cattle/horse trailer/tractor you're just as likely to turn onto a highway - with cars buzzing by at 80 mph - as you are to turn onto a dirt road leading to the most beautiful bucolic scene you've ever seen.

It is the combination of skyscrapers, flat land, wide open spaces, and ubiquitous ranch land that makes this contrast possible, I'd say. There may be other places in the world where similar combinations produce such contrasts, but when I think of major U.S. cities that have skyscrapers and skylines, I can't think of many (any) which have a combination that brings rural and urban trappings so close. And as for non-U.S. cities, I've only seen a few of them, and not many of them have these particular contrasts. It is definitely one of the things that I cherish about my relationship with Texas.

Texas. To a mid-westerner, "Texas" evokes stereotypical imagery and compels people to try to talk funny. But, to me, after spending half of my life there, thoughts of Texas just make me smile.

It's Indian. You Wouldn't Understand.

2008-02-23T17:26:00.004-06:00

Sign in the restroom of the Spice Bowl Indian Restaurant:

"Employees Must Wash Hand Before Returning To Work"

Hopefully, they wash their left hand.

What's the Good of Having a Toilet, Anyway?

2008-02-23T17:22:00.003-06:00

A sign inside the one-holer men's room at my gym / spa:

With regard to the 2nd sign, does this strike anyone else as rather restrictive? I mean, if the only thing I'm allowed to flush is toilet paper, where do I put the stuff that makes the using of toilet paper necessary?

In Which the Light Saber Ends the Trilogy Before It Begins

2008-02-17T16:30:00.008-06:00

Luke Skywalker comes back to consciousness in Ben Kenobi’s cave somewhere out in the desert of Tatooine. He’d just gotten the crap knocked out of him by a Sand Person while out looking for that ornery ‘droid, R2D2. Ben tended to the unconscious Luke until he woke up, and then began to give him a wee history lesson about the old Jedi order, Luke’s father, Ben’s relationship to him, and so on.

Familiar scene. We’ve all seen it. But while watching it, again, a couple years ago a thought came to me.

Ben hands Anakin Skywalker’s old light saber to Luke. It’s clear that Ben thought Luke had never seen one before (or, at least, that the audience had never seen one - sometimes exposition for the sake of the audience really annoys me). He pronounced “Light Saber” with such enunciation as to send a happy chill up the spine and down again of your high school drama teacher. With the Jedi all but gone, the rubes on Tatooine certainly hadn’t seen one in decades, if ever. Blasters were all the rage, after all.

There’s no warning to Luke to be careful. No mention of how it works or what it does. Does Luke have any clue? The scene sets it up as if he doesn’t. So, what happens next? While Ben is talking, Luke hits the “on” button, and out pops the It-Can-Fuck-Up-Anything light blade. Luke swishes the thing around in front of him with a “whooooaaaa” look on his face.

Now, in my mind, for that scene to be believable, it would need to go something like this:

What if the boy had that light saber pointed at his belly when he had hit the switch? What if it had been aimed at R2D2, or Ben?

Yeah. End Of Scene.

Ascending Interrogative Imitation

2008-02-10T18:55:00.000-06:00

I am often fascinated by the inflection and rhythm of a talker when I overhear conversations, listen to radio and TV, and even sometimes when I’m engaged in conversation. With the latter, fascination makes it way too easy to miss what’s being said to me; so I have to be careful. Thinking way back to my earliest lessons on dissecting the English (American) language - somewhere in the elementary school days - I remember the teacher talking about how “the voice voice goes up at the end of a questioning sentence.” I really don’t remember anything else about that lesson, but that particular rule is clanging around inside my brain these days because of something I heard last week.

Fans of the NPR radio show, “Car Talk,” regularly are treated to a caller’s imitation of a car sound - often with much coaxing from hosts Tom and Ray. The imitations are frequently good for a chuckle or two, if nothing else (a really good one can take the hosts from zero to “peeing my pants” in an instant). Often they do actually help to diagnose the car’s problem. A couple of weeks ago I heard something in one of the imitations that got me to a-thinkin’.

The caller was asked to try to make the sound her car was making: “RrrrrrrrrrrrRrrrrrrrrrrrRrrrrrrrr,” she rasped. Probing further, trying to diagnose whether or not the sound was connected to engine speed, Car Talk Guy asks, “If you speed up, does the ‘RrrrrrrrrrrrRrrrrrrrrrrr’ go to ‘RrrrRrrrRrrrRrrr?’”

Audio clip: Ascending Interrogative Imitation, from Car Talk

What made me chuckle was hearing the pitch of his imitation go up at the end of this interrogative sentence - following the rule I learned as a kid. The funny thing about this to me is that there was a teeny, tiny inconsistency in that sentence if you look at it from a certain point of view. And, of course, that’s exactly where my mind went: If the purpose of an imitation is to try to sound just like the imitated thing, and the thing was not asking a question when it made the sound, then putting the imitation at the end of a question requires changing it so that it sounds like a question. You have to make your “voice go up at the end.” That immediately makes the imitation less accurate but more funny. At least, that’s how I see it.

In the case of the car on Car Talk, I’m guessing it wasn’t asking a question at all. It was probably saying the automotive equivalent of, “OhMyAchingBack!”

"Really Smart" versus "Thinks Just Like Me"

2008-02-01T18:19:00.000-06:00

If I indulge in the Sin of Pride it is where intelligence is concerned. I think I'm a smart M*therf*cker - have for a long while. I don't take full responsibility for my attitude about my brains, though. I had a good deal of brainy-praise from teachers as a kid, and I had relatively good grades in school: A Pretty Solid B+ Kid. I had confirmation of my braininess in other forms, too. I definitely was a geek in my school days (I still am, but am now tempered somewhat by other, less geeky, interests... and tact). There was no doubt about it - President of the AV Club (Jr. High), President of the Amateur Radio Club, and Chief Engineer of the radio station (H.S.). Hell, I think I even actually joined the Math Club once. I was definitely into computers.

My dad always told me that, "You could be an A student, if you wanted to be." Apparently just having the knowledge that I could be an A student was enough for me. "The difference between someone who is an A student and someone who could be isn't brains, it's motivation," I preached to myself. As long as I had the brains, I was OK with not having the motivation.

I made it through my undergrad time in college in a fairly tough field, at a fairly tough university without having to work too hard. And, once again, I was A Pretty Solid B+ Man. I even continued on in the same discipline at the same university to get my Masters. Now, that was a challenge. And, again, A Pretty Solid B+ Man.

Even in my full-time career work (at the same university, again!) I was the Go-To Guy when it came to my areas of expertise, and I again got no small confirmation of My Smartness.

So, perhaps you'll understand the presence of a little pride on my part - I guess I always have. . .

My purpose for going into all of this really isn't to toot my own horn. Rather, it's important for you to know how I thought about myself if you are to get the earth-shatteringness of the question hinted at in the title of this entry.

This is how my little Ego World started to unfurl.

Only once or twice in my life in my adult years in Texas, and once or twice since I moved to Chicago, had I met a peer who I really, really felt was as smart as me in job-related stuff: An honest-to-goodness peer. Someone whom I felt had at least as much competence in the issue-at-hand as I did. I never gloated about it; never felt it made me superior as a person. But whenever I found one of these peers, it was so refreshing! When we worked together, there was such a buzz in the air as we grooved our thought waves together! We had a kind of geek "vibe" buzzing through the ether between us.

If you hang out with anyone long enough, you begin to see their flaws. This is no new wisdom, certainly. So, over time, I began to find some chinks in the armor of these smarty-peers. Well into my adulthood, in the process of learning that they're "just human," I began to learn the same thing about myself. Dammit. As Life forced me to acknowledge that there really are loads of things that I don't know (I'd given plenty of lip service to that idea without believing it, really) I began to wonder how Smart I really was. I think it was then that I finally passed out of that "know-it-all teenager" phase. Hmm . . .

So if I was not so smart, how smart could these people that I thought were so smart actually be? I mean, after all, our brainwaves "grooved."

Could it be that I just thought they were smart because they thought so much like me? Was that why there was such a groove? Because I was smart, that meant that they were smart, too. Well, now that I'm not so smart, what does that make them???

Earth.

Shattered.

Suddenly, everything's not so shiny.

. . .

That revelation hit me long enough ago that I have been able to put my life mostly back together, but not so long ago that I'm not still terribly humbled by it. I think it's OK to admit that I'm pretty good at the few things that I do well. But this psychological ~~crash~~ revelation helps me to feel a whole lot more connected to everyone around me.

. . .

I have to believe, though, that I actually have met some folks who both Think Like Me, and are also Really Smart.

A Plain Brown Tee

2008-01-30T07:14:00.000-06:00

I haven't got one. But yesterday I needed one.

Right! A plain, brown T-shirt is what I wanted to wear underneath a light-brown/tan button-down, collarless shirt. I was getting dressed for work (business casual: no denim, shirt with collar - unless it looks really good without.) and had decided on this tan button-down. The choice of what to wear beneath it remained. The shirt is a bit sheer, so whatever is underneath is somewhat visible through it, as well as up at the open collar. I've worn a black tee with this before, but I did not like how much black showed through the light-brown. A Plain Brown Tee seemed to be the way to go.

Now, I'm not sure - or I wasn't then - if I actually have a plain, brown tee, so I began to rummage through my shirt drawers. I found that I do have a brown tee - it's not plain, though. This graphic is centered on the front:

(from http://www.unamerican.com/)

I found it somewhat amusing that my Only Brown T-Shirt, my only tee that came close to what I wanted to wear to work was this one.

I found a white tee and put it on. The day pretty much improved from that point.

Plain Vanilla

2008-01-26T20:37:00.000-06:00

I have met perhaps two people whose favorite flavor of ice cream is vanilla. I have met so many more whose is chocolate. Those who are fans of vanilla, when asked about their flavor tend to be a bit apologetic. Has anyone else noticed this? Why apologize? It seems obvious to me: Vanilla is Plain.

It is even in our common parlance: “plain vanilla.” Is it “plain” because things with vanilla in them tend to be white? Why is that? Why is that the color that we associate with vanilla? Well, certainly ice cream is where it starts - for me, at least. Any tasty treat that I know of which has “vanilla” in its name is predominantly, if not completely, white. Vanilla extract, though, is kind of brown. If I understand vanilla origins correctly, brown is the color of the dried vanilla bean. (It is green prior to drying out.) The vanilla flower can be white, green, greenish yellow, or cream. So who chose white?

Now, I can see where “white” and “plain” can go together. I think that is really what the connection is. But why are “vanilla” and “white” so linked, and thus the supposed plainness of vanilla? Personally, if I ate brown-colored vanilla ice cream, I think it would taste amazing. I really like the flavor of vanilla. This summer I made several batches of my own “Orange Julius” with my new blender. The ingredients: ice, water, orange juice concentrate, vanilla ice cream, vanilla extract. When I make this, as when I make just about anything that calls for vanilla extract, I usually double the amount of extract, at least. The way that the pungent vanilla flavor hits me makes me want to have more.

I’ll admit it - I Love Vanilla Flavor. But I still think vanilla ice cream is plain. I can’t get over that for some reason. Is vanilla ice cream “plain” because its flavor goes so well with so many other things? Think about all the toppings that we would put on vanilla, but which might not go so well on other flavors. And how about vanilla ice cream accompanying other sweets: pie, cake, and the like? I think that makes vanilla somewhat versatile and universal. Does that make it plain?

What would life be like if whoever picked the color for vanilla had chosen brown? I read a review of a book about vanilla on Amazon.com, where it stated that Cortes and his troops became aware of vanilla and chocolate at about the same time, and introduced them to Europeans. I wonder if the colors associated with these two flavors were also “picked” around the same time. What if the color for chocolate had been white, and vanilla had been brown? I have actually opened a live cacao pod and the seeds inside are encased in a gooey white mess. And given the brownness of the vanilla bean, it certainly seems like it could have come out this way.

Would we now be calling the simple, boring choice a “plain chocolate” one?

I think that the association of plainness with vanilla comes, without question, from its whiteness. That, and the fact that vanilla is so plentiful. I mean, if vanilla were really had to come by, I wonder if it would still be “plain,” even if it were also white. If it were rare, would it still be white?

There’s something to ponder . . .

Coming back to the written word.

2008-01-22T16:17:00.000-06:00

The last blog posts I made were written during my mom's last days. I wrote them primarily for my friends in Texas, from whom I had parted just some months before. They were also for my own benefit - I like to mark events with words so that I can remember what I was thinking and feeling. And especially with an event so momentous as the death of a parent, I wanted always to be able to look back and relive my own thoughts and perceptions.

Well, that was then. I am now motivated again to write but for a subtly different reason. This time it's really just for me. I love words. I love turning a phrase.

I also like tweaking the brains of those around me with my often unique perspective - not to mention the puns and other wordplay that often accompany.

I want to be a better writer, methinks.

And somewhere way off on the horizon I want some folks to be entertained by what I create.

. . . create.

I like to create.

So, now, this blog is not meant to be a record of the goings on of my life. But rather I think I will just use my life as a launching point for my own brand of observation. Maybe I'll get a thrill out of writing something that really puts the gist of my thinking in a way that others will understand. More likely, I'll be happy to have a wee discipline in something that I think is worthwhile.

That is the introduction. I don't know what subject is up next, but rest assured that it will at the very least be something that is interesting to me.

Last Mom Update

2006-02-11T14:28:00.000-06:00

Hi everyone,

It is Tuesday morning, 8 February 8, 2006 and I’m sitting here in my apartment on a calm, cold, clearish morning. Some of you have already heard that my mom passed away this past Friday (3Feb.), but many haven’t. I’ve wanted to write this letter for several days, but have only now actually been able to be quiet (and awake) enough to do it.

A couple of weeks ago I sent an update to some folks on how things were going with my mom, my family and me. If you did not receive that, I’ve included it at the end of this email. You may want to read that first, before continuing on.

===

When I wrote the last “mom update” I was at my folks house, and things were somewhat cheery. Mom had the blood transfusion a couple days after I wrote that. That evening I went out to visit them with my roommate, and great friend, Rob. I brought chocolates from The Fudge Pot - a chocolate store that makes its own chocolate, right across the street from my apartment. Although mom was getting to the point where she could not eat very much, she always was interested in having some of this chocolate! The chocolate covered strawberries were her favorite.

Mom was weary that night. She had to sit for about four uncomfortable hours to complete the blood transfusion earlier that day. But with the presence of Rob, myself and the chocolate, she perked up and we had an enjoyable couple of hours with her and dad. I’m really, really grateful that Rob had gotten to know my folks (when he moved here to Chicago almost three years ago, I connected him with my folks so he could have a place to stay while he and his girlfriend, at the time, could search for an apartment and get acclimated). Rob is exceptional where it comes to observing people. He sees things right away that I never notice, or which take me a long time to grasp. Since I’ve been so far away for so long (22 years in Texas!), most of my friends had never met my parents, or have only met them briefly. So I’ve not had the benefit of seeing my folks through the eyes of others. The things that Rob noticed and would tell me about opened my eyes to some aspects of my folks that I’d overlooked simply because of familiarity.

Well, this night as we hung out with the folks, we were talking about the new house that had been built on the lot that used to our home, back in Hinsdale. (A couple years ago, my folks sold that place that they’d lived in for 38 years - and the only home that I knew - and moved to Plainfield; about 20 miles away.) Dad had some pictures of the outside of the new house that is now there, and commented on how it is a huge, beautiful house, but has a teeny, teeny patio in the back. I mean, really small and out of character for this house. Dad rhapsodized about that for a little while. When he’d finished, there was a beat, then mom chimed in, “Dumb.” That was her style: dry wit, and calling it as she sees it.

Now, to me, that’s just the way that I remember mom being. That kind of comment was so familiar to me that I thought nothing of it. Rob, however, absolutely loved that comment. To him it was a perfect example of how she is - calling a spade a spade; direct. Later, as we were driving back to the city, we were talking about that comment and how it was a perfect example of the way mom saw things. Without the benefit of my friend’s observations, I’d never have paid anything but cursory attention to that aspect of mom.

One other interesting note - one that Texans can certainly appreciate - is that Rob, being from Texas, and hearing my mom’s name, “Frieda P. Economides,” started to refer to her (in my presence) as “Frieda Pie.” I can’t say for sure if “Frito Pie” is something that’s exclusive to Texas, or to the South, but my experience of that dish is that I’ve never had it or seen it anywhere but Texas. Anyhow, Rob referred to her that way often. Very cute. Quite endearing.

Well, that was Tuesday. On Wednesday - or thereabouts - Mom finally consented to hospice care. Accepting hospice care means signing a “Do Not Resuscitate” (DNR) order. And, as I wrote in previous updates, did not want to do that. She was still fighting. Through John & Joyce’s research into hospice, we learned that accepting hospice care is not a death-sentence. You can go in and out of care; you can return to health; and you can be cared for at whatever level is needed. But they do require you to be ready to face death - thus the requirement for the DNR. This was now a bit of a different ball-game.

The hospice people brought some helpful booklets and pamphlets about the dying process. They also brought morphine that we could administer to Mom, as well as Xanax. Both of these could help mom so that she would not panic as breathing became more difficult and as her discomfort increased. The real bummer, though, is that using morphine really changes how one deals with the world. When I next saw mom, it was Saturday evening. And things had changed.

Mom still had difficulty being comfortable, but now her head tended to droop forward, and her eyes stayed shut most of the time. Still, I could tell that she was still “in there.” Over the last few weeks, her spoken responses had gotten shorter (in length, not in attitude) as she weakened. But now she would just say a word or two to let us know what she wanted: to move out of bed to the couch; to go to the bathroom; to move to the wheelchair for a ride around the house, and so on. Still, my reaction to seeing mom this way was to ‘step up to the plate.’ I took her at her word, and my priority was to keep her comfortable.

We’d set up a baby monitor so that we could hear her, during the night, and know if she needed any assistance. Mercifully, that night, she managed to stay fairly comfortable. I had to give her drugs ever two hours; but at least she stayed asleep for a good portion of the night. It seems that the last few times I saw mom, she had “good nights.” Compared to the other nights, where Joyce or John or one of their kids stayed with mom, where there were many more challenges in caring for her. I think that mom having good nights when I was there was due more to timing than anything, but I think she also appreciated the change of having me with her. I am her baby, after all .

The next morning, Sunday, mom ate just a little bit - part of a cookie and some chocolate. She slept most of the rest of the day. That night, John, Joyce and their kids Sarah and Tim came over. They knew that for Sarah - who is a college student downtown at University of Chicago, and who has a busy athletic and academic schedule (she’s a diver) - this might be the last time she got to see her Yia yia (grandmother). And it was.

After the visit and the ‘changing of the guards’ (Joyce would be staying the night), Tim drove Sarah and me back downtown.

At this point, mom just had a few days left. Joyce and one or two other friends stayed with mom and dad during that time. I’d be returning on Friday to help out over the weekend, again. But, during the week, more things changed. Because it was so difficult to get mom comfortable - we had every pillow in the house nearby, and used them to help to hold her in whatever position seemed the most comfortable - we had hospice bring in a hospital bed. You know the kind - they have controls to raise and lower the head and foot and such. No “magic fingers,” though. Mom absolutely hated the idea of having a hospital bed - and, as I mentioned last time, did not want to be in a hospital. When the bed was brought in, we were able to keep her pretty, ornate headboard in place. At least it would look kind of like the bed she was used to - but now it had rails. A new obstacle to overcome!

And I mean it. One of the nights that week, Joyce related, mom had actually gotten herself out of bed, over/around the rails, and into her wheelchair. How she managed to do that without falling down is beyond comprehension. She was so weak and frail. We had to assist her so much when she just wanted to get up from the couch and move to the wheelchair, that the idea of her getting around the rails and out of bed on her own seemed impossible. But she made it!

As much of that must have seemed a triumph to mom, Joyce had to downright scold her for it; reminding her that if we couldn’t keep her safe at home, that we’d have to take her to the hospital. That seemed to get across. Of course, doing that tore Joyce up inside, and probably really sucked for mom. But she stayed put after that.

Thursday night, we had a friend help Joyce out. She stayed up with mom during the night, allowing Joyce and my dad to get some rest. But on Friday morning, with Joyce and dad with her, mom died. Our best guess is that her pulmonary artery - in the lung - where the tumor was - hemorrhaged. She coughed up a lot of blood, but didn’t seem to be distressed. She went very quickly; in her own bed. She had told us time and again that she didn’t want to go into the hospital. We were all glad that we didn’t have to put her there.

Dad called me at work to give me the news. And, as much as I’d kind of gotten used to hearing and seeing him become emotional of late, when he said, “Your mother is gone,” with a choke in his voice, I was really more concerned for him than for anyone else.

[It is now a few days later: Saturday, 11 Feb]

My oldest brother, John, works in the Loop, as do I. He lives out in the burbs and takes the train in to work. I haven’t owned a vehicle since I sold my truck after moving here, so I made a call and rented a car, picked up John, and headed out to the folks’ place. Once there, we met dad, Joyce and the next-door neighbors (who are wonderful friends of my folks, and who’ve been very helpful during these tough months). They waited on calling the hospice folks – who would arrange to have mom’s body picked up by the funeral home – until John and I could get there; to see her one last time before we got caught up in a whirlwind of activity and plans.

Seeing mom in bed, still, was not as weird as I’d expected it to be. They’d cleaned her up and changed her clothes. She looked like she was asleep. As we stayed with her there for a while, Joyce played a favorite section of Brahm’s Requiem on the CD player. It was so appropriate, and was the perfect touch.

Joe, the funeral director, and one helper came soon thereafter to haul mom off. I can’t rave enough about Joe. He is a man in his 50s, I think. Tall, calm, patient, and speaks very calmly, slowly, and with no contractions [to the trek fans out there – Yes, I wondered if he was an android]. We spent a good amount of time with him over the next week; and during that time, his professional demeanor was almost stereotypically funny!

We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening doing all sorts of things around the house that, to be honest, I really cannot remember. Aside from Dad continuing to make phone calls to let folks know what had happened, and doing some straightening up around the house, the whole time is just a blur to me. We finally realized that we needed some dinner. Me being the big fan of simple, meat & veggie kinds of meals, suggested that we could all use some steak. John, Joyce and Dad all quickly agreed to this, and we headed out to a nearby place that none of us had tried before, but which had “steak” in its name.

As we sat down, we all realized – and then said so at about the same time – that this restaurant didn’t serve alcohol. That was clearly an oversight on our part but we managed to order and eat our dinners despite that.

On Saturday, we made our way to the funeral home to meet with Joe. We had a bunch of details to tend to. It didn’t take long before he got to know us well enough to be a little more at ease with us as he walked us through all the plans and choices we had to make. At one point as we finally made our choice of casket for mom (during which, a particular scene from the movie, “Clerks” kept coming to mind), we were heading back to his office and Joyce – again, knowing herself – asked him if we were the most difficult family he had had to deal with. “Oh, no. No. Not at all. [pause] Maybe second or third…” His timing and delivery – perfect.

One of the tasks in which Joe exhibited his professional expertise was in helping us to craft mom’s obituary. He asked us a bunch of questions about names of family and relationships to mom; jobs that mom held and so on. He read back what he had, and then asked if we had any changes we’d like to make. What was amazing to watch was his taking of our inarticulate suggestions and making perfect additions to the obit based on them. Here’s the final version that appeared in newspapers and so on:

Frieda Economides, nee Platon, age 75, late of Plainfield, and formerly of Hinsdale and Chicago, passed away Friday, February 3, 2006 at home with her family by her side following a courageous battle with lung cancer. She worked 11 years as a reservationist for Eastern Airlines and also worked with her husband in his commercial photography business in Chicago. Frieda also enjoyed volunteering at Treasure House, Glen Ellyn, for Metropolitan Family Services of Dupage. An outstanding pastry cook, she loved music and playing piano, tending her plants and traveling. Surviving are her husband, A.J. Economides of Plainfield; four sons, John (Joyce) of Downers Grove, Steven (Annette) of Scottsdale, AZ, Jason (Patricia) of Mt. Pleasant, MI and Gregory Theo of Chicago; nine grandchildren, Timothy, Sarah, John, Rebekah, Roy, Joseph, Abigail, Zoe and Eleni. Preceded by her parents, Steven and Zaharoula, nee Tsitsibourouni, Platon; two brothers, Nicholas and Eugene. Funeral services will be Thursday, February 9, 2006 at 8:45 a.m. from Fred C. Dames Funeral Home, 3200 Black at Essington Rds., Joliet, to All Saints Greek Orthodox Church, 102 N. Broadway, Joliet, for services at 9:30 a.m. Interment Woodlawn Memorial Park. In lieu of flowers, memorials to Metropolitan Family Services of Dupage, 222 E. Willow Ave., Wheaton, IL 60187, would be appreciated, and please don't smoke. Visitation Wednesday, 3 to 8 p.m. with Trisagion Services at 7:30 p.m. at the funeral home. For information 815-741-5500.
Published in the Chicago Tribune from 2/5/2006 - 2/7/2006

Yeah, that’s right. My maternal grandmother’s maiden name was Zaharoula Tsitsibourouni. Would ya like to know what that last name means? Well, [and you turks can correct me if I’m not getting this right] it comes from Turkish and means, “little nose…”

One other thing we discussed was what Mom would wear – both clothing and jewelry – for the wake and funeral. We had already picked out the clothes, but we brought several pieces of jewelry with us to choose from. As we chose the jewelry that Mom would have wanted, and which looked good with the dress, Joe assured us that, if we so desired, we would get the jewelry back after the funeral. I had scenes from the movie, “Garden State” run through my head… If you don’t follow my meaning, be sure to watch the movie. It’s a good one.

We met with a woman at the cemetary in Joliet to choose a plot for mom (and dad, eventually). Dad chose a cemetary where some other family friends have been buried. And we looked around for a spot that was near some other Greek families. We found a good spot that has some Greeks around, as well as some hispanics. We figured that we ought to pitch in to help to further “Greekify” the neighborhood.

After all that plan-making and running around, we stopped at a restaurant for lunch. When the waitress asked us, “Smoking, or non?” the irony was thick… We’d just spent the day making burial plans for a smoker who smoked herself to death. We chose “non.”

All through the day, a little snippet of barbershop music kept coming to mind. My quartet often used this short ditty to tune and warm up. The words: “My mommmmm. There is no one like my mommmmmmm.” As that phrase kept coming to mind, I realized that all of the “mother” songs that are so prevalent in barbershop lyrics will forever have greater impact on my psyche from this point, forward.

Well, the days and week progressed. My brothers and their families who live out of state made their way to Illinois. We planned the wake to be Wednesday evening, with the funeral on Thursday morning. I stayed with Dad through Sunday, and stayed at my place on Monday. Tuesday, I went back to work for a day; and then I was caught up in the flurry of activity on Wednesday and Thursday. It was wonderful to see so many old family friends at the wake. Jason and his wife Patty and I made some music; they on violins/viola and me on the organ (Bach/Gounod “Ave Maria,” Mozart violin duet, slow movement from Bach double violin concerto), and Joyce sang a couple of songs. The funeral on Thursday was at the Greek Orthodox church in Joliet, “All Saints.” Nicely, we didn’t have to make any choices there. The service is all performed by the priest (mostly chanted), with all of the aspects of it prescribed.

Thursday, for me, started with me (and my roommate and friend, Robert) getting up and out of the apartment by 7 a.m. We drove out to Joliet to the church and set up my audio recording gear, then went to the funeral home. I got there a little bit late, and so all of the family and friends were already there. Standing in the hallway with family, I began to tie my tie. I always have to do it about two or three times to get the length just right – I don’t put them on very often. My nieces, nephews and the rest of the family were mildly amused by my attempts. Some hints were offered. But the most helpful suggestion came from Joe. Imagine his calm, slow-speaking voice saying, “I can tie that for you, but you’ll have to lie down first.”

[beat]

[peals of laughter]

We finished off Thursday with a meal for all who had come to the funeral at a local restaurant.

So, that brings us to now. It is Saturday, 11 Feb 2006, and life is beginning to return to normal. But I realized somewhere during the last week, that my mom gave me one last gift. A gift that is as sublime and eternal as any can be. Through watching her walk the path of discomfort, declining health, and dying, I lost my last bit of fear of my own mortality. What Mom went through was distressing, uncomfortable, painful, upsetting. For her as well as for the rest of us. But she fought a good fight and, despite all the downsides, showed me how a member of my own immediate family can take this rough course and make it through.

My own comfortableness with my mortality now comes both from seeing my Mom go through it (“If she can do it, then I can do it.”), and the fact that I am so utterly happy and satisfied with my own life as it is right now. My thoughts travel back over the last couple of years, to all the pieces that brought me to Chicago, and to how perfectly it all came together. I knew then, and I know now, that I’ve been exactly where I need to be for every step of the process; riding the crest of the wave of the Creator’s spirit.

Peace to you all,

Theo

Penultimate Mom Update

2006-02-11T14:24:00.000-06:00

Hi Everyone,

I wrote the next section of this email yesterday morning while I was out at my folks' house:
====

I'm sitting at the kitchen table at my parent's house. Mom is sorting her pills into her light blue SMTWTFS pill box. You know the type… My dad's sitting next to me at the table waiting for enough energy to return to take a trip to the store to pick up some water and a prescription for mom.

My updates to you folks have been few, lately, so I want to bring you up-to-date.

In early December, the docs found that Mom's cancer - in her left lung - had grown. Meaning that it didn't respond to the chemo and radiation therapies in the way that we'd hoped it would. She also had fluid in her lungs - pneumonia - and has been dealing with that since long before December. The docs offered the option of more chemo which they said had about a fifteen percent chance of helping. Mom, being a fighter, chose to undergo that treatment.

After that course of chemo was almost done - I think that there were a couple weeks of treatment planned - she coughed up some blood which prompted the doc to get another CT scan done. The blood was due to one of the other problems (pneumonia/infection/emphysema - I don't recall) but not due to the cancer. However, the tumor had grown - the chemo was not helping. She chose not to continue that treatment. This was just a week ago.

So, now there really is nothing more to do for her except to help her feel more comfortable. She continues to weaken, so her greatest need is rest. Appetite-wise, she is doing all right. Not ravenous by any means, but we are finding stuff that she'll eat.

She has resisted suggestions of getting hospice care, but I think that it won't be long before she sees that as a good option. She's pretty stubborn (it
does tend to run in the family), and does not want to be anywhere else but in her home. Who can blame her? Fortunately the hospice options up here are pretty varied - they'll help out whether the patient is at home, in the hospital, nursing home. The organization that we like the best, so far, has an option for the patient to be in a hospice-owned, home-like environment. And that location is just about ten miles from where my parents' house is.

Dad still occasionally has some sharp pains on the left side of his face due to his bout with shingles - but it is much more manageable for him than it was just a few weeks ago. The main problem with dad is that he is terribly exhausted and doesn't sleep well. Doing just some minor physical activity around the house wears him out, and it's really frustrating for him. My dad is one of the most stereotypical "independent male" guys I know. For him to be so hindered for so long (the shingles started back in October) is really aggravating to him. The docs can't find any cause for his condition. My take on it is that it is all stress-related.

My sister-in-law, Joyce, has been a god-send. She's the wife of my oldest brother, John, and they live about 20 minutes away, in Downers Grove. She's one of those people who can talk your ear off, and is as persistent as anyone can be! She has been a primary interface to the docs and has spent loads of time researching hospice and other care options. Without her, this whole process would have been way, WAY more difficult.

So, with mom needing assistance to do just about anything at home, and Dad being as worn-out as he is (and, consequently, is not often in any kind of condition to drive a car), we need to have one of us (John, Joyce, one of their kids, or me) here overnight, every night, until either dad's condition improves drastically, or we can find some in-home help.
I came out and stayed last night, but Joyce and the rest of their family have been here a lot over the last week. And all of us have had a cold of some sort, too. When it rains, …

As for the future, mom's going to have a blood transfusion on Tuesday. We're hoping that will perk her up a bit. She's pretty anemic at the moment. But the more pressing need is to make a decision regarding getting some help for her in the house - whether that's hospice, a nurse, or a Chippendale dancer .

As for me, I'd say that my reaction is pretty much easy to predict: It is really hard to see my folks in this condition. The tears come regularly. Assisting them is not difficult, physically, but rips me up inside. I want my dad to be the guy that he was when I was a kid. I want him to be able to take care of all of mom's needs. Of course, he wants to be able to take care of her, too. Another part of me wants to be past all of this crap. Another part knows that being here, and feeling all of this is not only important, but part and parcel of life. The hardest part is knowing that mom is nervous and scared inside. My brothers and sisters-in-law have the kind or relationship with her where they have been able to talk with her about some of the more deep, family and spiritual stuff. But, of course, only mom and God know how firm and strong her faith and beliefs are. I do know that spirituality was not something that was passed on to my brothers and me from my parents. They've never been much for attending church, or (especially in my dad's case) admitting to themselves or anyone else that they need anything that they can't provide for themselves.

So, mom's not ready to face death, but her body is pressing her on.
My greatest hope comes from the fact that I want her to feel comfortable, inside, with this whole transition, and that this is the area that all of our prayers work best. Please pray for her and my dad's physical condition. But please also pray for mom's peace of mind, faith and hope.

On a more positive note, my life here - in every other area - is wonderful. The job is going really well, and the folks there are all aware that I'm the greatest thing since the invention of the horseless carriage. I'm keeping to my commitment to myself to not commit to anything besides work and family and spending a lot of time doing nothing. It turns out that I was a lot more burned out with extracurriculars in College Station than I'd realized. Consequently, I'm not involved in any theatre, church, or music-making of any kind (with the occasional exception of sitting at my piano and noodling around for a while). And I won't be involved in any of those things until something inside compels me to do so.

Lastly, my dear friends, please feel free to share this info with anyone who is interested. I've rarely asked for prayers from anyone, but this is a rare time. Thank you so much for your love, prayers and support.

=======

After I wrote that, yesterday, mom had as good and comfortable a day as one could expect, I think. By the evening, she perked up nicely - probably because she was able to rest and sleep several times during the day. While the football games were going on, Dad and I made some Economides-standard cookies (Mandel Bread - a jewish recipe that my mom got from some neighbor-friends a long time ago when they lived in the city). We had to get Mom-approval every step of the way, and, consequently, had a great batch of these great cookies. The best thing about these is that they're not terribly sweet - and have raisins and almonds in them. *Great* with coffee... Y'all come up for a visit and give them a try. But if you wait too long, we'll have to make another batch.

When I left to come back to my home last night, I was feeling better about the situation. I guess making cookies can do a lot of good for the soul.

Peace,
Theo

2005-09-15T20:51:00.000-05:00

2005-09-04T08:59:00.000-05:00

2005-09-04T08:58:00.000-05:00

2005-08-27T17:17:00.000-05:00

2005-08-27T17:16:00.000-05:00

2005-08-27T17:11:00.000-05:00

2005-08-21T16:27:00.000-05:00

2005-08-21T16:21:00.000-05:00

2005-08-21T16:19:00.000-05:00

2005-08-15T17:46:00.000-05:00

2005-08-15T17:41:00.000-05:00

The First Day of School

2005-08-15T17:40:00.000-05:00

I have two days of orientation at Kirkland & Ellis, before I really get to work.

I can see my destination...

2005-08-07T14:31:00.000-05:00

The first glimpses of Chicago from the car. Soon, I'll be all up in it =] And, unknown to me at the moment, 30 minutes after my arrival, my new roommates and I will be walking through the great Market Days festival on North Halstead.

Iowa Stubborn

2005-08-07T10:08:00.000-05:00

After overnighting in Des Moines, there are a few fun stories to tell.

Walking around downtown Denver

2005-08-06T10:00:00.000-05:00

Downtown Denver, on a Saturday morning, presented some cool things to investigate.

The Universe Speaks...

2005-08-05T21:57:00.000-05:00

and it says that It's Payback Time for Greg!

I'm high... 21 floors high.

2005-08-05T21:54:00.000-05:00

I made it to Denver and got an amazing hotel room for the night: high up; lots of windows; and a cool view of Denver. The cats are hanging in there...

Oklahoma, Texas, Amarillo and Cadillacs

2005-08-05T10:25:00.000-05:00

After one day on the road, I stay at a cheap motel and then continue the journey. More kitty pee; more cool weather; more road.

Pulling free from the spider's web.

2005-08-04T15:58:00.000-05:00

Reporting from Marlin, TX, I begin to feel the sticky tendrils of the web yielding to my strength...

An amazing lightning storm accompanies my escape.

Happiness is College Station in my Rear View Mirror

2005-08-04T15:06:00.000-05:00

There are no other words... besides the ones that I recorded in this entry. I. Am. Free.

The closing on the house went so well - we were all in a very high mood. It was a great time!

Closing continued + The Man In The Tree

2005-08-04T06:54:00.000-05:00

I continue my Closing Day stories and tell about a strange, natural phenomenon that is clearly visible from the hot tub.

Closing Day

2005-08-04T06:52:00.000-05:00

Today's the day that I hand over the keys of the house to the new owners; and then HIT THE ROAD. I tell some moving day stories, from yesterday. Man! the house is empty. Just like the way that I found it 7.5 years ago.

Haul it all away!

2005-08-03T12:18:00.000-05:00

Today the movers come to haul my stuff away to storage. I realize how much I love change.

I'm PISSED! [on]

2005-07-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

Joe Armon suggested that I try to get my cats used to being "indoor cats" while still here in College Station - to prepare for indoor life in Chicago. He said that it'd be better for them to crap on the carpets in this house, rather than mess up tne new place. That sounded good to me.

The problem is, you can't really specify just where cats choose to express their displeasure...

Fifty ways to leave...

2005-07-25T08:29:00.000-05:00

I'm in the home-stretch now. I've just dropped Rob off at the airport and realize that I may never do this drive-two-hours-to-the-airport-to-drop-someone-off dealy again.

Bob Jarvis came into town for a Roast, in my honor, at church last night.

Also, I got to poke my head in on a performance of West Side Story at The Theatre Company. I was quite pleased.

And, some moving thoughts.

The Sealed Deal

2005-07-20T20:34:00.000-05:00

Reporting from an area on the road that doesn't seem to offer very good Nextel cellular coverage... There are some audio dropouts and glitches in this post, but the main points make it through: I accepted the job with Kirkland & Ellis, and feel darned good about it.

Live. From Memphis. It's Friday Night!!

2005-07-16T17:22:00.000-05:00

Standing on the sidewalk outside of BB King's on Beale Street, this is my first day after the last day of work [or, the First Day of Freedom].

The Last Day

2005-07-14T08:36:00.000-05:00

This is the last day of work. Yesterday, talking with Wayne (he's out of the office today) I had the chance to spill my guts, as it were, about my good and bad experiences in the job. Catharsis.

Here's the deal...

2005-07-08T20:19:00.000-05:00

The potential buyers for my house make an offer... It's juuuuuust right!

A Stellar Day

2005-07-08T18:28:00.000-05:00

Driving over to meet Monica, the Davids, and Margaret at the Revolution Cafe & Bar, a contract is being written up on my house. This may be the Start of the End.

Both job possibilities have expressed the desire for a face-to-face interview when I'm in Chicago next week.

Slightly less sleazy...

2005-07-07T20:51:00.000-05:00

I had my second phone interview with Kirkland & Ellis today. In the first interview, I spoke with Katy Posner, in the HR dept. For this interview, I spoke with two of the techies there. It helped me to feel a lot better about this as a job possibility.

My resignation is also broadcast to the whole KAMU-FM audience during the pledge drive, this week.

Brain takes a U-turn

2005-07-07T20:48:00.000-05:00

I gained some insite into the workings of my brain when I "watched" it turn a negative-flavored thought into a positive-flavored one.

It Is Done.

2005-07-05T18:14:00.000-05:00

It's the last day of work. What more needs to be said than what is recorded below...

Milestone Acquired

2005-07-05T08:54:00.000-05:00

Today is a Good Day to Resign...

Sleazy Lawyers and Bankers, Part the Second

2005-07-04T08:57:00.000-05:00

... and the rest of the story.

Sleazy Lawyers and Bankers, Part the First

2005-07-04T08:55:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted much on the house-selling-front or the job-acquisition-front. So, here's the first part of that.

July 4th, 1776, 2005, yadda...

2005-07-04T08:49:00.000-05:00

Watching "1776" today and listening to the book-on-tape, 1776, give me some perspective on my own adulthood.

Mass Exodus

2005-06-25T17:59:00.000-05:00

A funny and unexpected moment in my Escape from TAMU Mountain happened this morning as I asked my co-worker, Monica, to be a reference for me. She agreed, provide d that I agreed to be a reference for her!

In jail, again...

2005-06-25T17:55:00.000-05:00

Well, not IN jail, but from the waiting room, during Max's visitation time this Saturday, I took some time to reflect on this place. Since dealing with this stuff is completely new to me, I want to remember what it looks and feels like (I'm not so interested in remembering what it smells like, though ;-).

Dilemma: Eyes versus Ears

2005-06-19T17:03:00.000-05:00

I run into an unexpected moral dilemma as I try to order a new book from Amazon.com

Recipe for a country & western song...

2005-06-17T15:07:00.000-05:00

On my way to a massage, I contemplate today's weirdness: the death of a friend and the imprisonment of another.

Rest in Peace, my friend

2005-06-17T10:58:00.000-05:00

Here's an article about Gwen from The Eagle:

http://www.theeagle.com/region/localregional/061605localactressdeath.php

Local actress dies

By JIM BUTLER
Eagle Staff Writer

A local real estate professional who served community theater both on and off stage has died.

Gwynneth Edwards, 48, passed away Sunday at St. Joseph Regional Health Center. Her career included work in television, movies and radio, and she was involved locally with the Theatre Company.

“ Gwynne was really effervescent and excited about everything she was involved in,” said Randy Wilson, artistic director of the Theatre Company. “She was a delight to be around. She was always upbeat and kept the company together.”

Born June 30, 1956, in Pinner, England, Edwards had worked as a property manager for McCrory Investments in Bryan and College Station since 1988. Her responsibilities included storage units, a car wash and home and apartment rentals. She used her contacts to help the Theatre Company when it moved from downtown Bryan to Manor East Mall (now the Tejas Center).

“ She was on our board, and she did a lot to get the new facility usable,” Wilson said. “She had friends help with the air-conditioning and plumbing, and she paid for a lot of it.”

Edwards’ stage credits included Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet for the Theatre Company.

“ She taught the actors how to fence,” Wilson said. “And she also painted the sets.”

While in England, Edwards worked in the Drama Script Unit for BBC Television and on the Dr. Who television program.

Edwards was a member of the Screen Actors Guild and served as a double for Sissy Spacek in Marie: A True Story (1985) and as a stand-in for Cheryl Ladd in The Fulfillment of Mary Gray (1988).

From 1988 to 1993, Edwards was commercial program director and an on-air personality at KTSR radio and co-hosted a morning radio show with Randy Davis.

Edwards is survived by her parents, Anna and Thomas Macauley of Hillingdon, England, and her former husband, Patrick Howe Edwards of College Station. She was a member of Alexander United Methodist Church in Tabor.

Services will be at 2 p.m. Friday at Alexander United Methodist Church with the Rev. Donald Fields officiating. Burial will be in Alexander Cemetery.

When it rains...

2005-06-17T09:49:00.000-05:00

I'm in a bit of a funk today because of two things:
1) Yesterday, when I came home for lunch, Max and Casey and Crystal were at my place. We had a fun time visiting, and I enlisted Max and Casey to help load my riding lawn mower - which I'd arranged to sell to John Greene (Gigi's boy/man-friend) - into my truck to transport to its new home. So, we loaded it in, and prepared to go on our way - Casey, Crystal and Max in Casey's truck and me in mine. Or so I thought.

I left the driveway and headed down the street to the corner and waited for the other guys to follow. In my rear-view mirror, I watched as Casey's truck sat in my driveway and was not backing out. Casey called my cell phone and said that Max was going to be going with me (not surprising: Casey's truck is a small, regular-cab one, and only comfortably seats two. So, I turned around and headed back.

On my way back I could see that two guys had confronted Max in my driveway and arrested him in the cul-de-sac. I pulled into the driveway and walked over to where Max and one of the guys (a plainclothes cop) were. The cop warned me to stay clear.

"How far away is clear?" I said.

"You'd best go back to your driveway."

So I did.

The other guy was Chris Boyett, son of a local, nasty judge and head of the drug task force. He's the guy that's been looking for Max for the last three weeks. During that time Max stayed at my place and at Crystal's, and this guy knew it. He questioned Casey and me about this. Warned me that, though I was on the bottom of his list of priorities, I could be responsible for housing a felon, or some such thing. Oh yeah,

"I know you use marijuana," he said.

I just continued to stare at him, saying nothing.

Well, they hauled Max off, and Casey and I delivered the lawn mower.

Yesterday afternoon I got a couple calls from Max and am helping him by making phone calls to let folks know what's going on.

Ok. That sucks enough, but I still haven't gotten to number two.

2) The night before, on Wednesday, 15 June, I got an email from Amy Eoff who'd found an obituary in The Eagle online for Gwen Edwards. She forwarded the obit to me an other theatre friends.

I know Gwen from when we did "Romeo and Juliet" at The Theatre Company. Gwen played a fantastic nurse! With her high voice, curly blonde hair and british accent, she made that role hers. I think I played Lord Montague, with Carolyn Cobb as Lady M. (We still call each other 'wife' and 'husband' whenever we see each other.) Gwen is such a bubbly and lovable character! Whenever I'd see her around town, she was always "up." We'd even talked about her starting voice lessons with me.

The last time I saw her was in the grocery store while Rob and I were shopping. We all chatted a bit, and then Rob went off to do more shopping while Gwen and I continued chatting. She had hoped that Rob was my boyfriend... . According to Gigi, Gwen wanted everyone to be blissfully hitched - it was her favorite thing.

Well, Gwen was only 48 years old, according to the obit. I will certainly miss her.

Her funeral is at 2 p.m. today at a funeral home and I've been wrestling with the decision of whether or not to go. Joe helped me this morning by reminding me that funerals are designed for the living. I remembered that I much prefer a memorial service to a funeral. I also thought back to Joe Folse's funeral (a prof who collaborated with the guys I worked with back in the Biosystems days) which was at a local funeral home. This place, Calloway-Jones funeral home, was a classic design for such a place from the '50s or '60s: dark, low, cheesy organ, depressing. I hated being there. When I think back now, I tend to remember that funeral rather than the other things about Prof. Folse. I really don't want to do that with Gwen.

I felt a big relief when I gave myself the permission not to go.

So, today while sitting here in my office, I'm in a funk, but thoughts of the future help to keep me going. Soon. Very soon. [In fact, there's another person looking at my house right now!]

Before the last performance...

2005-06-12T12:50:00.000-05:00

A pre-show musing.

Onward and Upward!

The Board Meeting

2005-06-10T20:04:00.000-05:00

Reporting, again, from back stage on Friday night, I recall a few ditties from this past Wednesday's board meeting - including my announcement to them that I will be leaving for Chicago soon.

Friday night, backstage...

2005-06-10T19:56:00.000-05:00

From the green room during our Friday night performance of "The Music Man." The show's going well and I feel all right. This show has exhausted me a whole lot more than I expected. I have found my legs aching, my throat sore, my whole body just wanting to lay down for a few minutes. I realized that I do a whole lot of standing in this show - both on stage and off; not to mention The Big Chase Scene where the whole cast is runing around, shouting, trying to find That Spellbinder, Hill. A few of us also make a quick run out the back of the theatre, through the lobby, through the green room ("GANG WAY!!!! RAMP! RAMP!"), along the backstage hallway, and into the stage-left wing to shout "Yeah! Down by the creek! Let's get him!" Chaz and I make it there with about five seconds to spare. WHEW!

Good times...

"Ohhh there's something half-way..."

2005-06-10T08:19:00.000-05:00

At the 'half-way' point of the run of "The Music Man," I have a few memories of the first weekend of performances.

UnBusted

2005-06-10T08:16:00.000-05:00

Well, it looks like my problem has been one of communication. I found the new audio blog phone number!

6:20

2005-06-10T08:02:00.000-05:00

[the voice interface to the blog is still busted]
I'd been wanting to put an entry in here about a Boss Event that happened last week. I've been waiting for the audio blog to get fixed, but it's been long enough, and I want to get this down while I still remember it.

Last week, on a morning where I was running late in getting to work, I got to work one day at about 9:20 a.m - when I was 'supposed' to be there at 9:00. I walked to my office, not having seen the boss, logged into the computer, grabbed my coffee cup, and then walked to the coffee pot. When I returned to the office, there was The Boss, sitting in Joe's chair (Joe was elsewhere), waiting...

"Greeeeeeg, it's 9:20, and you just got here, and I had no phone call."

"Oh, I must have lost track of the time." Riiiight.

"Soooooooo, are you going to stay here until 6:20 tonight?"

This was Thursday - preview night for "The Music Man" - and I had to be at the theatre at 6:20, at the latest. And he knew it.

"No, I'll just make it up next week." nonchalontly.

"Ohh OHkay"

I think there may have been some talk about the show, next. I really don't remember. Of course, what I do remember is the Assholeness Of The Boss. He just has to control something.

BUSTED!!!!!

2005-06-08T10:00:00.000-05:00

No, it's not what you think, baby.

For the last week, or maybe two, the dial-in interface for audio blogging here has, seemingly, been busted. I can't connect from my cell phone or from a landline. Neither could Joe Barron. So there have been some items that I would like to have posted about here, but haven't. Well, I hope to get them typed in today.

It's Time for Me To Flyeeeeyyy

2005-06-08T09:23:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, while out to lunch with Joe, I had what might end up being another wee milestone on this journey out. Here's an excerpt from an email that I just sent off to Michael Stevenson, a good friend and TTVN student worker who is in Russia for the summer:

I just looked at the work calendar and noticed that Rod and Wayne will be out travelling all next week, except for Friday. I'd been thinking, recently, of letting a lot of co-workers know that I'm going before I make it Official with Ken. But if I want to do that, I either have to do it via email (a bad idea... leaving 'physical' evidence) or postpone resigning by a few days. Not that postponing is a big deal - especially since the earlier I do this, the more I'm putting myself out on a limb.

So, the saga sags on...

Listo. Listing. Listed.

2005-06-01T14:09:00.000-05:00

Another milestone... This would have been an audible entry, but I can't get through to the Audio Blog phone number. I'll get to that later.

I met with Janette Hopper, my realtor, again today. This time, to Do The Deed. I felt that I'd gotten the house to enough of a "ready state" that it was time to list it on the real estate market. We met at 12:30 at the house and I signed a bunch of papers; and initialled still more papers. And, after talking about how this was all going to work, a "For Sale" sign was staked into my front yard! It's there right now. I will post a picture of it soon.

Janette described the market, at present, as really. REALLY good. Recently, she listed a house and had a buyer's contract in her hands just a few days later! She is still very optimistic (as am I) about how quickly my house should sell. I chose to list it at $125,000 - Janette agreed that that was a good price, too. The plan now is to have Max (he's been staying at my place the last couple of nights - there's much, MUCH more to that story!) mow the front yard and trim the front tree today. When he's done, Janette will return to take a picture of the house which will accompany its listing. Later, I will make the kitchen look presentable, and she'll return to take some interior pictures. Then, on Tuesday, 7 June, she'll have a party at the house with other realtors to kick-off its listing.

Before returning to work (where I am, at the moment) Max and I celebrated a bit by Taking a Break. That put me in the proper mood for the moment. I looked at the clock and noticed that another Extended Lunch had taken place ... without having notified the Boss. I began to envision the happy and blissful face I would wear when he asks me, "So.... are you going to make up that time today?"

I feel one notch freer now. One notch lighter. One notch closer to my goals. One notch closer to Chicago. One notch closer to saying all of my Good-Byes.

An intoxicating combination of Stuff.

Not quite boss material...

2005-05-30T00:25:00.000-05:00

Brent Hairston met The Boss today... His first impression was right on!

A Question of Motivation

2005-05-28T12:37:00.000-05:00

If I ever needed more reason than my cool-ass destination to motivate me to get my house ready to sell, I can always think of...

...[evil music cue] HIM

We want so much for you to stay. I promise I'll pay you more, if I can.

2005-05-26T13:03:00.000-05:00

I forgot about one other important piece of the Annual Review. I think he is not clueless about my desire to get outta here.

... or get hit by a Mack truck.

2005-05-26T10:47:00.000-05:00

The annual review is over. I got myself into the right frame of mind, and sat down, there, in the boss's office and waited to see what he'd say.

Not that this was much of a milestone, but I do feel like I've hit the home stretch.

I can't remember, now, if I had mentioned this in the audio entry, so I'll type it here, too:

Good Boss, Bad Boss, Gray Boss

2005-05-23T20:32:00.000-05:00

One more entry about the ongoing struggle with the boss and with the relationship between him, my job, and my theatre work.

It's not too big a deal, but it's enough to prompt me to remind myself that it's all going to be past me soon.

It's a (Greg's Life) Montage

2005-05-23T20:28:00.000-05:00

My life takes on theatrical proportions...

Out of the dentist's chair, into the...

2005-05-23T20:26:00.000-05:00

It turns out that I had nothing to worry about at the dentist's office - despite the fact that the nurse seemed to have me mixed up with someone else. I ended up with no extra limbs removed, or any such boondoggle. All is well.

No, no! Don't amputate the LEFT leg!

2005-05-19T22:18:00.000-05:00

I went to the dentist for a new crown. I came out with a...

This entry is a little hard to hear because I was making it as I sat in the dentist's chair, with the nurse only about ten feet away. It sounds like my phone was cutting out a little near the end, too, as I describe how I was talking to the nurse about a cool gecko that I could see outside, through the window; only to find out that I was speaking to no one.

Go Tell it on the Vestry

2005-05-15T22:22:00.000-05:00

I pass another milestone in my exodus from this place. Today I told the vestry at St. Francis that I am going to be leaving. Heavy sigh...

After the Ball is over

2005-05-14T22:54:00.000-05:00

A KICKASS concert!!! The show's over and I'm watching folks clear out. I end up standing in line to buy a new CD and to get Marcia's autograph.

The last song she played was "Let Me Play With Your Poodle." Before she sang it, she said that it was This Place, College Station, that she wrote this about. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I believe her son and daughter-in-law live here (she'd mentioned them once or twice in the concert), and it might have had something to do with that. Anyway, while I was waiting in line for her autograph, she took a break from signing to hug and say "goodbye" to a young couple. I figured that that was her son and D-I-L.

So, standing in line, trying to think of something non-trite, non-fanboy, non-starstruck to say to her when it's my turn. Something witty, something different, something that will let her know that (I think) we could be buddies. Something she's never heard before. ... right ...

I end up telling her that she'd brought a new level of cool to this town. I think she liked that...

On the Ball

2005-05-14T21:57:00.000-05:00

A five minute snippet of music, including "That's Enough of that Stuff."

Down the Road

2005-05-14T18:58:00.000-05:00

At Wolf Pen Creek Amphitheatre, before the show starts, sitting on my chair, warming myself up with some Marcia Ball music on the iPod.

I got a flat tire

2005-05-14T15:52:00.000-05:00

Reporting live from the Wal-Mart parking lot - complete with a noisy car alarm going off in the background... The cart I got at Wal-Mart has a noisy, bumping wheel. I decided to push it all over the store, making as much noise as possible, so I could enjoy the odd looks of people wondering who was making the racket!

The (almost) last straw... revisited

2005-05-13T18:23:00.000-05:00

This is pretty much the same story as my previous audioblog entry - about the ass boss. This was the third attempt at recording this story: The first one came out silent, the second one never appeared (until just recently - after I'd emailed tech support about my audio postings which weren't making it to the web. I guess they fixed it :=/), and the third one only appeared today when the second one showed up.

I decided to keep this entry here not because it's any better than the prior one, but mainly because you can hear Joe laughing in the background near the end. I think it's cute and should be preserved.

The (almost) last straw.

2005-05-13T18:06:00.000-05:00

Once again, the Boss proves what a terrible manager of people he is. If I ever doubted that he is a major reason that I am dusting the dirt of this town off of my feet, I should just listen to this post again...

Pleasant Hot Tub Memories

2005-05-08T18:09:00.000-05:00

The spa that I installed last summer is a Wonderful Thing®. While sitting in the tub, I recall a fine, fine couple of days wherein I triumphed over some of the tub's initial challenges.

Save that Mother

2005-05-08T18:01:00.000-05:00

Mom is in the hospital with some kind of crap growing in one of the lobes of her lungs. Yeah, the news sucks, but this post is about a heroic attempt on the part of her loving son (me) to "save" her. Man, am I supid...

Rob's phone call

2005-05-04T10:51:00.000-05:00

This is a couple of voice mail messages that Rob left me back in April. He was riding around on the bus in Chicago and had a bunch of ideas hit him. He didn't want to lose the thoughts, so he called and left these two messages. They play back in reverse order because of the way that my voice mail plays old, saved messages back.

We're IN! From the 3 Amigos...

2005-04-29T17:23:00.000-05:00

Chillin' at the 3 Amigos restaurant seats at center field.

Take me out to the OJ stand

2005-04-29T16:49:00.000-05:00

Standing outside of Minute Maid Park in Houston, waiting for the doors to open on Cubs vs. Astros with Missy Barron.

Old Round Time Warps

2005-04-28T19:22:00.000-05:00

Back at The Galleria, noticing people, ceilings, and whatnot.

A Miletile

2005-04-28T16:59:00.000-05:00

I just realized that I don't really have to replace the linoleum in the house with tile before I sell the house. BIG weight lifted off my shoulders...

River City Folk

2005-04-26T17:58:00.000-05:00

Oh there's nothing halfway...: The Theatre Company cast list for "The Music Man" was published today - and I'm PUMPED.

More High...

2005-04-25T23:10:00.001-05:00

Entry The First and a Halfth: The rest of it

High on Galleria odors... and jeans

2005-04-25T23:10:00.000-05:00

Entry The First: From Houston after having visited the Galleria to do some shopping

The Solution

2005-01-22T15:28:00.000-06:00

So, I've been trying to get the linoleum glue up off of the concrete floor in the master bathroom. It's proven to be a Royal Pain (tm). I've scraped it. I've scored it. I've heated it. I've melted it (and gagged in the process). I've ground it - and created a dust storm. It's been a huge problem.

Joe Barron suggested using muratic acid. I didn't know about that particular kind of acid, but I felt confident that I could probably find some kind of acid or liquid to eat up the glue.

I went to the hardware store today and found something that held promise. I brought it home and mixed up a little bit of this stuff. Then I poured it onto the stubborn glue and spread it around, evenly. I had to wait at least an hour, now, before I'd know if it worked.

I gave it 90 minutes, then went and checked on it.

I grabbed the scraper - which had stopped being useful with this glue a couple weeks ago - and pushed it into the gluey area.

A curly peel of glue glided up in front of the blade as I pushed it!!! It had worked. I plan to leave the stuff on the floor for at least two hours, to make it easier to work with. As I walked away, one thought just wafted through my mind. I'd probably not have even noticed it given some other circumstance. The thought was,

The Solution

I walked a few more steps, paused, then burst out laughing

magic time

2005-01-17T15:18:00.000-06:00

This past week contained, for me, one of the most amazing, kick-ass days that I remember. It started out on Thursday night with Dinner at Phil's. I got there early and started sipping on wine - a good start. Phil's neighbors - who are Wycliff bible translators in Papua New Guinea - were there for dinner, too. I'd met them once before and really enjoyed them. This night, however, we got to know each other a lot better. I stayed there, at the dining room table until about 10 p.m. talking with them. The coolest thing was discovering common ground between barbershop singers and bible translators. As translators, these folks have to learn the local language (which is most of the time, strictly an oral language) and then figure out a way to write it. This is where the common ground - vowel sounds, consonants, and so on - is. They were fascinated to hear how barbershoppers think about sounds since there is this unexpected common ground.

It was neat

I stayed at Phil's much later than I usually do - 10 p.m. or so. When I got home, I was still full from a great dinner. As such, I didn't snack at all, and eventually went to bed. The next morning, when I weighed myself, I had broken the 185 Pound Barrier for the first time - weighing in at 184 pounds! I was quite pleased. In fact, just before I weighed myself, I'd been in the bathroom looking in the mirror, and noticing a slenderness in my face that I'd not noticed before. So that was great.

Next, the boss was out of the office on vacation this day - Friday. His absence always encourages those of us whom he supervises to take the day "easy." I intentionally come in late and do things just to spite his memory. This is not a good situation, and I'm glad that I'm going to get out soon. Anyway, Joe Barron and I spent a bunch of time out doing errands - one of which was job-related. It was a beautiful day and we just chilled and took it easy.

Another part of the kick-ass-ness of this day was that I decided to cancel my Dish Network subscription. I'd been thinking about doing it for quite some time, and finally did it. I hadn't been watching a lot of TV lately, and would get behind on watching the shows that I'd recorded - which added stupid stress. Feeling that stress, I'd look at myself and the ridiculousness of being stressed about a TV show backlog! Not only that, but spending $40+ per month for the service was gnawing at me. I wanted to simplify. So I did. The interesting thing here is that, even with cancelled service, I still get the NASA Select channel (as well as a christian channel). So, that makes me as pleased as can be. In fact, it felt like a part of my Holy Mission of getting to Portland. Every step in that direction makes me feel *great*.

So, in response to cutting my Dish service, Joe and I went to Best Buy - him to look at the [new] iPod Shuffle and me to buy some DVD movies. Well, the iPod Shuffle was not in the store, so Joe looked at movies with me. He'd wanted to get a copy of John Wayne's "McClintock" for a while. We ended up with Joe special-ordering that movie, and one of mine ("Bookies") since they weren't in stock. I bought about six other DVDs totalling $120. Well, that takes care of the next three months of freed-up Dish Network service fees . So, that helped to make the day great, too.

The rest of the work-day was easy and fun and the evening proved to be just as good. I picked up Max and we scored some nice pot, then went to Wings 'N More to meet up with some theatre folk celebrating Chad Morrissey's 21st birthday. Our group was put on the outside porch and it was pretty darned chilly at times. The chilliness depended on where one sat with relation to the outdoor heaters there. But it was good times, nonetheless. The rest of the group went out to Northgate to bar-hop, but I wasn't planning on doing that. Instead, Max and I hung out for a while at my place. Adam (otherwise known to me as "A-DAYUM" - on account of his youthful cuteness) came over and we continued to be stoned. They left after a while and I topped off a great day with some self-gratification.

I think that the best part of the day - and the days since - is that I feel such energy behind my plans to escape this town. I called Jeff Ozvold this weekend and told him that I look at everything that I do, now, as either contributing to or detracting from my goal of moving to Portland. I've gotten back to the master bathroom renovation; that especially feels like working in the "right" direction. Everything that I do to make this house ready to sell is - and it feels great to do each task. I hope to lay tile by the end of the day.

watershed

2004-12-09T15:20:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was a watershed day in my quest to get my ass out of this town and into Portland, Oregon. I'm actually a little surprised, in some ways, that I've not made any entries here related to Portland - it's been on my mind for a couple of years. But it was only this year, sometime, when I realized that James and Chris were really not interested in moving there, that I began working to make this a reality.

Originally, in 2002, I visited Portland for the International Barbershop Convention. When I left, I was convinced that I had to move there sometime. I convinced Chris and James that they needed to move there with me. And after a trip there with them after Christmas, 2002, they seemed convinced, as well.

We took another trip there after Christmas, 2003, during which it snowed an unseasonably large amount of snow. I loved it. Portland could barely handle it. And C&J whined. We got out of Portland just a day or so before another storm dumped another huge amount of snow there and shut down the airport.

Not too long after that, I realized that not only were C&J not interested in moving there - James wussed-out because of the portential for non-sunny weather - but also their job paths were going to take them wherever it chose. That realization freed me to persue getting to Portland on my own timetable.

So, I have been job hunting and so forth. But yesterday during lunch with Joe Barron, I decided (with his help) that I will move to Portland during the summer of 2005 - unless a job pops up that requires me to be there earlier than that.

See, from July until now I have been job hunting via the web: Monster.com, dice.com and so on. I have had only a couple of interesting possibilites respond to me; but nothing more. It's going a bit slower than I'd anticipated. Perhaps it is because I'm not in Portland already; perhaps it's because I'd need a couple months of time before I could start work; and perhaps there are other reasons. Yesterday's watershed moment came about because my goals for work, life and finances have had a significant shift since I started this job hunt.

I'd already had an interest in getting into real estate as an investment - and as a job. But after reading Rich Dad, Poor Dad, at Rob's suggestion, my goal is financial freedom. Real estate should play a big part of that. So I have been thinking of this move also in terms of being the start of a new life: one in which my understanding of money in my life has undergone a significant paradigm shift. The shift means that the kind of job I land is much less important.

Well, at lunch, Joe and I talked about playing it safe versus taking the risks necessary to reap big rewards. Since educated risk-taking is a big part of what Rich Dad, Poor Dad is all about, and I am ready to embark on that course, it began to dawn on me that I could also risk moving to Portland without a job lined-up.

The idea is that after selling my house here and selling the truck, I would have money to invest in real estate (from the house) and money from the car to buy some cheap, reliable transportation, with the rest of the monies there to live on for a little while. If I buy a duplex or fourplex or some such property in which I can live and rent, I'd just need enough money to pay the rest of the bills. I hope that I'd have enough money to acquire at least two properties quickly.

It's risky. It's unlike the me that I know. It's what I've been looking for.

The idea of putting me completely out of my element is appealing. I've been living a very safe life to date. Very few significant risks. And I am getting exactly out of life what a non-risk-taker would get - a calm, debt-laden, easy existence. So, it's time to change.

I'm scared. Well... excited and scared...

confrontation

2004-12-03T14:42:00.000-06:00

I've had a week (or so) to stew over the boss situation. The last couple of entries I created, although crudely written, document some of what I was feeling and thinking in the passion of the moment. Later on, as expected, I came up with some new "thinks" that are useful.

Driving to the airport (IAH) on Thanksgiving day gave me the opportunity to think. I felt that I needed to do something. After all, the work environment has this pernicious problem because of the boss that someone needs to say something to someone. And for the last few months, I thought that I should talk to Wayne about the environment that's been created because of Ken: resentment for his micromanagement and anger at some of the administrative/bossy decisions he has made.

I feel that I'm the right one to bring this up because I feel like I've got nothing to lose. I don't think that anything I say is going to jeopardize my employment here - I know what it takes to get someone fired. I also am confident that folks around here want me to continue to be happy... They feel dependant on me for computer-related things and probably figure that being on my "bad side" would be quite detrimental to their work-life.

I can see how I'd be less inclined to go out of my way to help someone here at whom I was pissed off [or should that be, "off at whom I was pissed?"].

So, I thought about what it would be like to bring this stuff up with Wayne. I could envision him asking me if I'd brought this up with Ken. If my answer was, "no," I feel that he'd want me to go to him, first. Wayne likes to avoid personnel confrontations - and he'd be well within his right to redirect me. After all, I don't think I could really convince anyone that I felt that my job would be in jeopardy if I went to Ken, directly. So, this pretty much leaves a direct confrontation as the means to air this shit. I also am inspired by thinking about how Rob would deal with this, since he's a lot more confrontative (?) than I am. Of course, he'd go directly to Ken and growl at him...

So, I'm preparing myself. Trying to get my thoughts distilled down to the nuggets of truth here. I spend some time envisioning the scenario with me coming into the office and asking him if he has a moment to discuss something that's been troubling me. And so on.

I will do this. I feel very strongly that I must do this. And I know it's going to turn out better if for no other reason than I no longer keep the thoughts inside or in the realm of employee griping.

consistency

2004-11-24T01:56:00.000-06:00

Well, like many journalers, my consistency in writing new entries leaves a lot to be desired. I have made some notes, telling me about entries that I want to make; and despite them, I have entered precious few new entries based on those notes (or based on anything, for that matter!).

So, here's an entry just for entry's sake. Just to get me going again.

I was thinking about this journaling stuff today. I guess that I haven't ever done it enough, and consistently enough to find catharsis in it. Mostly it looks like a task to me. Something that I don't want to do, but which I know is good for me. I want to get to the point where things on my mind will beg me to type them up here.

I added a convenient link on this browser at work so I can bring up the main journaling page easily. Perhaps that will motivate me to make more entries. If not, I'll just have to come up with something else.