I'm Going to Madrid!

Just got my placement and instantly accepted it. I'm going to be in Madrid for a year... WTF

I Dreamt a Dream...

I had a brutal dream the other night. I can’t remember much, except for the goriest parts, and I don’t know why. The dream was set up as like watching a movie, but it wasn’t like I was sitting in a couch watching it. It was like the screen was routed directly to my brain, so almost as if I was in the movie: the ultimate 3D.

There were two women, one chasing the other.  I can only remember how one looked, kind of like Katy Perry in the face, with bright blue hair cut into a pixie-bob. She was very pretty, and she was the one being chased. It was terrifying, and the other one, I think she had long blond hair, chased “Blue” into a hollowed out tree, like a Redwood. They kept grappling, and Blue would fight the other off, but “Blonde” was relentless. Finally, Blonde knocked blue over and then took a pickaxe and struck a blow to Blue’s temple region. Blood spurt from her Kill Bill style and she stumbled to the side. With her prey weakened, Blonde delivered another blow to the top of her head, resulting in a similar spray of red-orange blood, like a cartoon. Blue fell to the ground, covered in leaves, and she stared open-eyed, mouth closed straight ahead, which was right at her audience, just me. The camera started zooming in and out, slowly at first, and then picked up the rate. I think music accompanied this, growing ever-more panicky, until finally my conscience caught my sub-conscience and kicked the shit out of it and I woke up.

What the hell? I’m not going to bother psychoanalyzing the dream, because I don’t know what the hell it could mean and I don’t want to discover I’m crazier than I already knew. It’s just one of those dreams that will stick with you, particularly her face in the end. I doubt I ever shake it, like the dream where a man systematically worked through hurting/killing my family when I was about 4 or when I escaped from a burning house with my pregnant mother, chased by Nicki Hepfl and then attacked by a monster directly from the X-files.

Our subconscious is an amazing thing; and it’s the source of some pretty terrifying thoughts as well. All of those dreams will stick with me until my mind begins to wither and my conscience no longer keeps up with my sub-conscience and I am unaware of their ongoing presence.

They aren’t all terribly dim though. When I was about 9 I dreamt that I got in trouble at recess and received a very strange, but very satisfying punishment. There was a tree in the middle of the play-yard, and a horse tied to it. I used the horse to get on the tree and climb to the top, like literally on top of the tree. Up there, there were Disney movies scattered all around and it was my job to retrieve them. I did so, until I hit a week spot in the leaves and fell harmlessly to the ground.

I know not what any of these mean, but they have stuck with me, and I felt like scribing them somewhere. This is as good a place as any.

(Clearly I had issues with the text...)

Yelp!

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I Still Don't Know It

I feel inspired to write

But I do not know what

So I will remain quiet

And just sit on my butt

The feeling is familiar

And I usually just ramble

But a poem is different

I'm taking a gamble

I'm choosing to fly

By the seat of my pants

And hope that the words

Come out and they dance

I've got the flow down

But the substance is weak

The mountain I wanna climb

Is a very distant peak

There's still no direction

There's no end in sight

So I'll stop being stubborn

And just give up the fight

I'll remain on my butt

And check what I've said

And now that feeling to write

Is freed from my head

The Greatest Two Minutes in Sports

For those of you have never been to the Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs in Louisville, I assure you, it's something that you MUST do. I went to the 138th race this weekend, on a total whim, and it was such a great experience. It was so wonderful; all of the rich people with sun dresses and pin-striped suits, regal horses and their trainers walking around, the sounds of their hooves pounding the dirt of the track during the races leading up to the Derby.

Well that's what I expected I would see. I was completely wrong. 

We(2 cars, 12 people) got to Louisville and started driving down the main strip outside the track. People stood on the curb with signs saying "Parking $_" with the price raising the closer to the track you got. People were literally driving over the curb onto the front yards of these houses for $10 parking. That was our first bit of the culture of that day. 

It was scorching, had to have been around 90 degrees, and people were walking around with beers in hand, guys with their shirts off and girl fanning themselves with their hats. We found a little parking lot and set up our station. We began with a few drinking games and, sharing beers bought from Sissy's Liquor down the road, and just had fun (I only had a few as I planned to drive home later). After a while, at around 3, we decided it was about time to go to the track. 

A guy snuck a few of us who didn't have tickets in for $25 bucks( I tipped him 10) and we were on our way. To get to the infield, you have to go under the track, so we just fell in line behind everyone else, and began our descent. The further you got through the tunnel, the louder the crowd got. I was legitimately getting anxious to surface. Once we did, I saw a scene that I did not expect, one very different from the picture at the top. It was a little more like this: 

More like Woodstock, and a whole lot cooler than the first picture. People of all sorts were walking around, in horse costumes and brightly colored shirts, some dressed as jockeys and who knows what else. There were guys with their shirts off and incredibly cute girls playing the Southern Belle thing for a day. People carried Mint Juleps around and loudly boasted to everyone who they were betting on. I looked over at the betting area and there was a mass of seemingly immobile people lined up on top of each other. 

A group of about 6 of us got in line and it didn't seem to really move once we were in there. After about 45 minutes, I had my ticket saying I had put $20 on horse #16, El Padrino (The Godfather) to win. (Spoiler alert, I did not win).

After that, it was just time to relax, soak up the sun, and people watch. I mean really, this is the best part of the whole experience. You get to see every kind of person there, but they are all there for the same reason, and that's why it works. It was almost entirely friendly, despite the massive differences in people, and it was so cool to see. 

After a few hours, the race was about to begin. The signature trumpet thing kicked off and the crowd roared. The horses crossed on the big screen one by one and got behind their gates. After a few moments of deliberate hesitation, they were released to a booming, collective cheer. We watched on the screen, because you simply couldn't see the track unless you were against the fence, and people fought for this piece of real estate. Eventually, they came in our direction, and for about 1.5 seconds, I could see incredibly fast flashes of contrasting brown and bright colors.

But that didn't bother me, it was the feeling in that infield that made it all worth it. In the beginning, it started with a real cheer, shouts here and there crying out for their horse, and then the further along it went, the quieter it got, as the real contenders got quiet out of hope and the ones who fell behind had nothing to cheer for. As the horses came around the final turn, and jockeys made their last bids for the crown, the noise level slowly raised as horse #19, I'll Have Another, started catching up with the leader. The horse crossed the finish line about a head in front, and everyone erupted. 

It was so wonderful. After that, everyone who won went to the ticket booth(my buddy's girlfriend won $140) and the rest went out. Like a slowly moving, gelatinous mass, we moved out of the gate slower than most people can tolerate. It took about 30 minutes of shoulder to shoulder crawling to get across the street. Then as you went towards your car, locals set up shop with coolers of water, pop, and beer for the patrons to indulge in. After a while, I submitted and bought a water(the best bottle of my life). We got to the car around 730 and waited for our other friends to get back before leaving. 

I could do a huge summary of the day, but I don't think it's necessary. The story was unique to me, but I feel that it is the same feeling for everyone. I had so much fun on that day after randomly deciding to participate, and I will never regret it. It was a wonderful experience, and I highly suggest everyone do it at least once.

I Wanna Do It All

For those of you that have no idea what is happening in this picture, I will explain. This is a man celebrating the annual tradition of La Tomatina, held in a city near Barcelona in late August. The festival lasts for one hour and participants grab curshed tomatoes from trucks and chuck them at other people, or do things like in the image above. It's an hour of pure release, senseless action, and unabridged fun. I actually plan on doing it this fall.

Very conveniently, it turns out to be the first item in this version of a Bucket List. Like any other, this is designed to list the things anyone should do before they die. However, I Stumbled-Upon this one and fell in love with it. It gives a great balance of experiences ranging from thrilling, emotional, spiritual, gastronomical, historical, rewarding, and even the ones we take for granted. It has 225 of the most interesting things you could ever do or see. I went through and read the description of all of them in two days at work and found that I have done 13 of them already, and I'm pretty happy about that. Because that's not so many, I will list them here:

6. Help a random stranger in distress (just this weekend I returned a patient's folder I found underneath a park bench outside a hospital)

23. Speak a second language fluently(fluent is debatable, but I'm defining capable of communicating in Spanish)

31. Climb Volcan Pacaya(volcano in Guatemala, March 2011)

46. Watch a Space shuttle Launch (Done from a dock in Florida in November 2002, not up close though)

50. Learn to Juggle (taught myself)

64*. Ride all of the Roller Coasters at Cedar Point (Except the Wicked Twister, only out of lack of interest)

126. Attend a midnight screening of a blockbuster (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in summer 2007)

129. Watch a movie at a drive-in theater (surprisingly easy in Barberton)

173. Visit Walt Disney World (Same Thanksgiving break as the space shuttle launch)

202. Build a bonfire and make s'mores (who hasn't)

207. Perfect a magic trick (learned a cool card trick during my gambling phase in the late 2000s)

220. Sleep in a hammock (thanks Mom and Jim)

225. Create a Bucket List ( I already had one, but now realize it needs revisited)

(There was also one that said "Eat out of your comfort zone," but I don't know if that's possible. I ate pig brains already and it may have been the best thing I have ever eaten. I don't know how to top that, and I wasn't uncomfortable eating it.)

This wasn't to brag, because really it is a ridiculously small portion of the things listed, but I am proud of this. I have had some cool experiences that I clearly (based on the facts in the parentheses[this is so meta!]) remember a lot about and will likely never forget. I'm sure some of you have many of the other things on here that I haven't done, but watch your back, I want to do them all.

Why have a bucket list? I think a lot of people get inspired to create this, perhaps after watching the Jack Nicholson/Morgan Freeman movie or maybe after doing something that made them feel like a kid again, but never follow through on it. And after attempting to do a couple of them, they may get upset at the difficulty and abandon the effort. And even worse, they may return to the list years later and realize how little they still have done and feel awful. Wow, bucket lists sound awful...

But it shouldn't be looked at that way. Bucket lists can be used as general motivation to appreciate life. I have a lot of things on my bucket list that are very ambitious(visit 100 countries, for example) that can probably only be completed in ideal situations. However, the cool thing about that is, I want to do it. The battle we're fighting is not "can I do it" or "will I do it," it's "do I want to do it?" If you want to do some extraordinary things in your life, then you have an extraordinary imagination and potential. That has to be reaffirming in itself. The second we stop dreaming about our capabilities is the second we succumb to complacency. We should always dream huge, even if we know there's nearly no chance it will happen.

But when you do complete some of the things on your list, a couple of things happen. One; you get the satisfaction of completing something you set out to do, which is always wonderful. And two; you grew. Whether you did a good deed, felt a new feeling, saw a new people, you grew. You will learn each time you do something on a bucket list and become a more well-rounded person. That's my favorite part about them - it is one of the best ways to learn about life. 

So if you go through those 225 and find nothing that you haven't done (highly unlikely), get started with number 225.

The Excitement Never Dies

I know you all remember being in grade school, as the year winds down and it gets warmer outside. You get out of class and mentally check off another day in your countdown to the glorious escape that is summer break. With each passing hour you can taste the freedom and feel the anticipation mounting. It has been one long, painful year and soon, the torture will all be over.

I can still remember one specific last day of class. My last day of 5th grade, my last at Portage Elementary and the last with many friends who would mostly be going to Highland Middle School instead of my U.L. Light Middle School. At that point, I had a crush on Brittany Smith. And for 5th grade, it was pretty serious. I remember telling Jeff Cooper at an educational camping retreat we went to about a month before, that I liked her, I like-liked her, even though he was going out with her. But like a true friend, they broke up shortly after, and the door was open. 

If you knew me as a kid, I was deathly shy, so I never really did anything. But when the last day of school comes, anything can happen. We were all standing on the steps leading outside the school, waiting for that final bell, waiting for summer to be out. I was waiting for it to ring so I could make my move, free of the consequences of school. I stared at the clock, heart racing and neck sweating, and the second hand finally reached it's goal.

"Bbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggg"

Amongst shouts of joy from other children, I turned to Brittany Smith, absolutely terrified, I told her "I like you." I then shrieked like a girl and ran down the steps. I remember my eyes meeting those of Professor D (I think her name was Digiacinto, but not positive) and she just laughed at me as I burst through those doors one last time.

For years, you have those wonderful moments of sheer ecstasy when those bells ring for the last time that year, releasing you for months on end of never-ending fun and relaxation. You get to play basketball and wiffleball for hours on end. You get to walk a mile and a half to get ice cream with money you earned from mowing the neighbor's lawn. You get to stay up all frickin night, man.... Wow, I do miss that feeling.

But wait a second... Does my heart deceive me or do I feel that same anticipation now, as the year draws to a close for me, but on the other side? I believe I do. I have a subconscious countdown ticking. I replay my plans for the summer and what my schedule will be like. I anticipate the couple days off I will get a week as opposed to working 7. I am ready for my birthday, ready to go to Colorado, ready to have fun, and ready to go to Spain! AHHHH! Pardon my French, but HOLY SHIT I'm ready for summer.

So for all of you who recall that weird dynamic between teachers and students, how the teachers seemed almost robotic, unflappable in their sternness, know that they too, enjoy summer break as much as you do. And from knowing some of the faculty at my school, and mostly myself, I'm willing to bet some of them enjoy it more.

The Game

"The Game" may more commonly be known as the name of the rapper, the Michael Douglas movie, or some a book or something... Who knows. I know it mainly as one way, and all of those other versions of the game just make me lose the game I'm talking about. So what is the game? 

It's so simple in explanation that it seems hard to grasp for some. Really the only rules of the game are:

     1. Everyone is playing the game.

     2. You lose the game when you think of "the game."

     3. You must tell someone when you lose the game

(Lastly, there is a 30 minute period of grace where thinking about it doesn't cause you to embarrassingly lose again)

Oh yeah, and you cannot really win. I suppose if you die, then you're out of the game, winning in a way. Then again, you're dead and you are likely thinking of the game as that last breath passes from your lips. I kid you not; this game can drive you mad.

What I am doing is awful in a way, even though it doesn't really change anything at the same time. Everybody is playing, as mentioned before, but it's so easy to not lose if you don't know about it. But if you are reading about this, then you're odds to lose increase exponentially.

I am one of the two worst players I know. For years, up until my senior year in college, I would lose every couple of months or something. And it was usually in a really understandable way, like when someone says "Hey man did you catch the game last night," or "I'm not gonna play the game with her," and then it would hit me. Sheepishly I would say "I lost the game," and we'd be on our merry way. Oh, how it has snowballed...

Whenever somebody emphasizes the word "the," I lose. Whenever I think about thought, I lose. Whenever I have a strange train of thought, I lose. You'd be surprised how often one of those occurs in a day. So I'm losing far too often, and it's driving me crazy. 

I am a very happy person, but this has nearly become the bane of my existence. No health concerns are on my radar, I don't live a dangerous lifestyle, and I don't do drugs. A lot of the factors for dying are off the table for me. But the game might take care of that...

(Sorry for the bleakness, but man, his this thing weaseled into every corner of my brain)

Honestly, though, despite my ominousness when speaking of the game, you will probably get a kick out it for a while. Just be careful not to embrace it too quickly, it will become your worst enemy. This is my attempt at diffusing some of my loserhood to my readers. And with that, I say:

Let "The Game" Begin!

A Two-Way Street

If you have ever worked in retail, you know that customer service is one of your most important responsibilities. You need to build rapport with each customer, approach them with a smile and a friendly greeting, offer help in any way, and take all the bull s*&t they throw your way. Wait... Why the last part?

I'm not referring to the part where you have to take it, because honestly, you kind of do. The customer is always right, almost. It's rare where there is a case where they are not, so you pretty much always do have to take the shit they throw your way. But I'm referring to the fact that some of these monkeys are picking their butts and deciding to direct their shit at you. That's just unfair.

I have countless stories I could share, including ones from my time as a Telemarketer(I dealt with English "shit" and Spanish "mierda") or at my current retail escapades at Whole Foods. But I have a had a few from my current job that have just shocked me that some people ask for help in the ways that they do, making sure to degrade you as much as they can before requesting a favor.

(Please know that in no way does it ever anger me. I'm not an expert, but my studies in communication make these experiences fascinating for me so I am pretty good at the whole "smile and nod" thing)

Yesterday a tiny, ancient Asian(Chinese I believe) woman approached me and asked me if we have Organic Chai concentrate. I told her I knew we had conventional, but would have to check for the organic. Unfortunately for her, we did not. So in response to this, she slowly got down on one knee and started removing all of the conventional Tazo brand Chai concetrate containers from the shelf and setting them on the floor, absolutely sure the organic version had to be there somewhere. As I assured her that we didn't have any because there wasn't a price tag for it, here are some of the responses:

"I drive very long way for organic chai,"

"How can you no have organic chai? Ridiculous"

"What wrong with this store,"

(Those are direct quotes, not racist embellishments. It just makes for an even more interesting story, adding some comedy to the insults)

I'm pretty sure she even accused me of having some incapacity as well, but who knows. Once she was convinced I wasn't lying, just incompetent, she begrudgingly left.

The other one that got me, though, was back in the heart of the holidays, a time where all customers are on the tops of their respective bull shit games. A woman called to place a special order(a service we offer where customers can order a case of a product and get 10% off the whole case). At that time, this service was very inefficient, and actually this interaction caused me to take responsibility of this part of our department and it is now a very efficient service. I'm not asking for applause, however, anyone would have done this if they spoke to this woman.

Anyway, the woman called and instantly I could tell she was going to be a fun one. She started telling me how she had been ordering this specific cereal for about 6 months(a case a month) and every time it was a hassle. She would never get it when it was promised her, information was lost, wrong cereal was ordered, blah blah blah. She started rattling off names, all venomously pronounced, and that's where I'll pick up her quote:

"I've spoken to Charlie. I've spoken to Zach. I've spoken to Andrew, Chad, James, and I don't know how many others. I must have gone through you're whole department. What's your name? Jeremy? I mean seriously Jeremy, you can't all be this stupid!"

Yeah, she said it. I covered the receiver and my throat began to grind in my pathetic attempts to stifle my laugh. She may have caught a little bit of it, because it was so hard to control. Still covering the receiver, I told Andrew what she said and his eyes went ballistic as he told me to hang up. I told him to calm down, that this kind of experience is gold to me, and I would handle it. 

I got all of her requests, clear and concise, and had the product ordered quickly. We got it faster than she had ever had before but I didn't get to see how she acted when she got it. Very entitled, I presume. 

Lesson is though, most people will react like Andrew, and they have a right too. There are more responsibilities to a retail job than most can understand, so when interacting with "us who can only hold a job at a grocery store," know that we are people too and when you are friendly, we will do what we can to make your experience better. Customer service is a two way street, customers.   

Never Stop Fighting

This post falls completely in line with my blog summary. There are atrocities committed all over the world by the minute, but there are also people who are fighting against it or at least some rebellion being built within those suffering the atrocity. It's human nature. When we feel there is an injustice being done, somebody will speak up. So for all of those pessimists out there, those that think this world is ugly and growing uglier, you can read these and maybe find our future a little less bleak. 

The Time 100 is a list put out every year by Time Magazine that lists the 100 most influential people in the world at this time. The list covers every kind of person of interest, including athletes, actors, politicains, tekkies, world leaders, advocates and more. This year has some names that we hear all the time, like President Obama, Tim Tebow,  and Adele. But it also has some other incredible people that you may have never heard of, fighting for causes you would fight against but don't know where to start.

Dulce Matuz is an undocumented Latina who came to the States as a child and began pursuing a degree in Engineering, but ran into immigration issues once graduation approached. As a result, Dulce founded the Arizona Dream Act Coalition, a cause that promotes a path towards citizenship for people who like her, are good people who just want to live in a country with freedoms. Oh yeah, she's only 27.

Donald Sadoway, 62, is an engineering professor at MIT whose goal is to create new forms of sustainable energy for the country. He is engineering a battery from molten salt and liquid metal that is being developed into grid size to be used as a safe energy force. What's even cooler, he's developing these batteries as the only expert on his team; the rest are his students.

Asghar Farhadi, 40, is an Iranian filmmaker whose film A Separation just won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film. The film, set in a volatile Tehran, depicts the conflicts of two couples, one secular and one religious, in a way that has opened the eyes of people all over the world by giving us a personal view of what has often been so secretive. But Farhadi isn't using his Oscar to integrate him into the world of Hollywood Big-wigs; he's using it as a platform to reach an audience with a message supporting the underrepresented people of a country.

These are just a few, and you won't want to stop with them. I read all 100 summaries of these people and couldn't help but feel pride well up for being a part of a world where we fight for what's right. These people make me think that my goal of changing the world is more than possible, because like all of them, I am passionate for this world and the people in it. I want to be like the people on this list.

Not to sound melodramatic or cliche, but these people bring hope to everyone and they are determining the path we are going. And once you read their stories, you may change your mind about where this world is going. I, for one, don't think it sounds too bad.

Monticello, Utah

Have you heard of it? You may be thinking, "hmmmm.... it sounds familiar," but that's because it took its name from the famous estate of Thomas Jefferson. If you're one of my potential new-found readers from out in Colorado(Thanks Polly), you may have actually heard of it, but never been there. If not, it seems to me like it's worth a peek.

In my blog yesterday, the fun one, I mentioned meeting my brother halfway when I fly out to Denver in July. Halfway between Phoenix and Denver is right around the Four Corners. When I realized this, I almost just dropped everything, determined to see this marvel. But then I thought about it, in a philosophical way, and realized it's only special because cartographers got lazy and started drawing boxes that led to four states coming together at a corner. It's amazing how easy it is to make something lose it's luster if you peel back the layers.

The point of this trip, the part where I meet my brother anyway, is to strip ourselves of as many luxuries as we can. So to go to a location with people snapping pictures and reading pamphlets from kiosks isn't ideal. My main goal is to hike a mountain, and maybe even camp one. Just for fun. I searched nearby mountain ranges and came up with a few options. Then I cross-checked them with cities nearby so we could make a pit-stop if we needed and found the combination of Monticello, Utah and the nearby Abajo Mountains.

It was like striking gold. The mountains were big, but not difficult, perfect for a group of amateurs. There are bike trails and rivers and everything a wannabe outdoorsman could want. The mountains seemed perfect. But don't forget the city. 

I got my info from Wikipedia, so you know it's good: Monticello, Utah

It's a town founded by Mormons and there's only about 2,000 people in it. How personal! It's at the base of the Abajo Mountains so the view is going to be incredible. And then there's this:

The Hideout

The 23rd ranked municipal golf course in the country. I am totally an amateur golfer (although I played my first time this Saturday and got several pars through 9 and just missed a birdie) but I thought this was a great opportunity. 

Mapping out that route from Phoenix to Denver provided a bit of serendipity. I found a tiny little city that few of you know and that I think I will love. It makes you wonder what other hidden nuggets of cities are around, and why I haven't taken the initiative to see more of them.

Yes

I'm going to start approaching this blog a little differently from here on out. What this will likely have to become in order to survive is a place to channel momentary thoughts, not life's philosophies to be shared when I feel like writing. Countless amounts of people have told me that I have to blog about Europe/Spain when I go and because I will want to spend as little time in front of a computer as possible, my previous expanding blog posts will have to step aside for thoughts of the aside. 

"I would love to come out to Denver this summer," I said to my aunt last weekend. "Yes, I'm gonna try to make it happen."

And now I just bought my ticket to Denver, for under $300 for 6 days. Wow, that's exciting. I'll be there July 4th-10th, all because I said "yes."

I have been saving money far more effectively than I ever could have imagined and I am on pace to be very comfortable when going abroad(as long as I choose not to party hard 24/7). And when my aunt told me in a doubtful voice that she'd love to see me again before I left, I said "yes." 

Who knew that one word could be so liberating. People always say "why not," but instead of just saying, try feeling it. Try removing that barrier of debilitating practical limitations and ingrained hesitation. Just get rid of those and then say "yes" without a single doubt in your decision. 

I'm going to Denver in July. I'm going to go further West than I ever have been. I'm going to drive hours and hours South to meet my brother halfway. I'm going to climb whatever mountain is nearest us when we meet. Hell, I'm going to eat a Rocky Mountain Oyster if I can.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES!

Sure, there is too much of a good thing, and saying yes to everything could probably lead to overexertion or something like that, but I think that's only in the case of things you wouldn't always say "yes" to in ideal conditions. If you want to do something, do whatever you can to make "yes" possible. I saved money and asked off work. It's a "yes" for me, it should be for you too.

And in about 4 months it will be "si" for me.

Here's to You, Tricia

To all of my loyal followers(Mom and Grandma), it seems that I have fallen off the face of the planet. Or at least fallen off the responsibility of my blog. When I began this, as usually is the case with me, I had grandiose visions of what it could and would be, because of a culmination of frustrations that I thought would provide endless topics of interest. However, the blog has become, as I said before, a responsibility. And one that I have not been good at maintaining. I fear that blog posts will become more infrequent as summer approaches and I get out of my school, the one place that allows me to be trapped with nothing to do but seek an outlet. 

But I do have a topic, and as you may have guessed from the photo, it concerns courage. You may have also guessed it concerned cowardice, and in a way, the two are united by a polar relationship, but what I will speak on today concerns the more admirable trait. Then again, I think it is the less common one, so the opportunity to write about it is like a bird watcher finding a dodo. Well not quite, but you get what I mean.

This weekend I will be going home for the first time since Christmas, the longest such gap I have ever had. Part of it is a car that is rapidly losing my confidence. Another part is me priming myself for the more expansive periods of time I will be from home. A final part is an actual emotional separation. I have slowly changed in the way that I feel that I do not have a static "home," so being out and about is more comfortable than being with the familiar, as I have said in previous posts. 

So what prompted my decision to come home? Why, it is so that I can witness courage.

My cousin(technically second, but even cousin feels too separate for the relationship) Tricia and her mother will be visiting the area so that she can speak to the members of her former church. If you do not know her, you may ask why does she deserve an audience? And the answer is simple: she is one of the most courageous people I have met. 

I still remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when my grandma called me to tell me that Tricia's husband Robb passed away in his sleep. The feeling of dread has still never entirely left me since that phone call. It was one of those moments that lead some people to seek out a higher power, because there can be no reason capable of human understanding as to why something so horrific would happen. They are such good people. And no "they" became "her."

Tricia, amazingly, survived the ordeal, but continues fighting everyday with that loss and the job of being a widow raising two young boys. She of course has help, but that battle is nearly insurmountable. Yet she continues to climb. 

And while it is not hard for you to immediately see the courage in this situation, there is still more. Tricia started a blog detailing how she felt during the whole situation, how she missed Robb and what it was like raising two young boys. She put herself out there for all to see, and will do so again in front of a large audience at her church this Friday. 

I cannot speak for Tricia, but as I imagine it all, this does not feel like courage to her. I imagine that it started out as a release for her. When Robb passed, her emotions likely were bubbling up constantly and spilling out in ways she did not enjoy, so she had to channel them somehow. I believe that's how the blog started. And for a while, it was probably one of the best forms of therapy. At that point, it's true, there may not have been courage involved, because she was doing it for herself. 

But as her blog developed, so did her audience. And what started as a release became a retreat for others. Tricia had to become transparent for others so that they could read into her lives and draw inspiration into their own. As a fellow(yet very amateur) blog writer, I know the difficulty that comes with the transition of this being for you becoming a responsibility for others. And while I make general observations about humanity, Tricia posts the ins and outs of her life, and there is some incredibly personal stuff on there. 

And what's even more courageous, she has allowed herself to develop as a writer and as a person through all of it. She's getting buzz about book deals and readings and all kinds of things. People want to hear her, and she's letting them. Let me break this down for you.

She had the courage to: 

1. Blog about a very personal event

2. Let this personal event be a responsibility for others, and not just herself

3. Embrace this awful event as an opportunity grow as a person and as a contributor to this world.

What likely would have knocked all of us on our asses for years, maybe even a decade, has in a little over a year, become an undeniable source of inspiration for thousands and thousands of people because of Tricia's courage to take that blow and in turn, knock it on its ass. If fate had a hand in Robb's passing, I bet it did not know what kind of woman it was dealing with. 

So here's to you, Tricia, with your glowing smile and your charming laugh. Here's to your transparency and your incessant will to help. Here's to your determination to not let this thing beat you. Here's to your being a mother, and the caliber of mother you are. 

Lastly, here's to your courage, which will more than you can imagine, make believers out of so many people who don't know how to believe. We can look to you and know that sometimes, even when it seems impossible, we have to just believe.  

Love you, Cousin. See you Saturday.

What Are Brothers For?

This doesn't exactly represent my brother and myself entirely well, but it captures the idea of one of the answers to my titular question.

I cannot speak for every set of brothers out there, so this may not all stand true for them, but I will try my best to explain what it is to have a brother. Frankly, it's unlike anything else. I have never believed in compatibility derived simply from blood relation, but there is something between my brother and I, who have very little in common, that makes our relationship stronger than any other I have. I do not miss anybody when I go somewhere, anyone except my brother. I will try to give you some answers to my question through anecdotes and then I will probably just make a list of others that I don't want to elaborate on or can't but imagine them to be a role for a brother.

Here are a few stories:

This first one is a retelling through pieces of stories from family members, as I can barely remember this.

Story 1

When I was 14, he was 12, we went to Myrtle Beach for the third time in our lives, second time we could remember. My brother, if you don't know him, was a very hyper child and at times could influence me to be the same way. However, at 14, I was determined to be mature and facilitate between the adults and the kids. Because you know, 14 is time to stop being a kid. But anyway, as usual, my brother was being his rambunctious self and it seemed to have been getting on the nerves of the adults. These adults will try to use other language to describe that, but that's the best way to do so. 

Multiple times we were sat down by our family members and told to calm down, these words moreso for him and pleading me to calm him down myself. One time, when apparently I recognized it as being the last straw for my brother and the frustration was palpable among the adults, I suppose I decided to take things in to my own hands. I grabbed him and told him we should go down to the beach, unthreateningly so, and he followed. We walked past my uncle who was reading on the porch and I can imagine from his point of view watching me as I pushed an unsuspecting lamb into my trap. We walked down the steps and once at the bottom, I imagine I started verbalizing how he needed to stop. Knowing how these interactions typically went, he probably wasn't listening, so I resorted to another method. Here is where my sensory memory gives me some brief flashes.

I remember hitting him first with those foam noodles you use to float in water and eventually pinning his face in the sand and rubbing it into the earth. That's the most I remember clearly, but I imagine I made extreme threats through gritted teeth as he angrily pleaded me to get off of him. Once I was satisfied that my point was made, I walked up the steps without a glance at my uncle and he told him to sit down to chat. 

It is said my brother behaved pretty well the rest of the trip.

Story 2

Once I went to the University of Cincinnati for a visit, it was never a doubt that I would attend college there. And so it happened. It was an easier decision than expected, but the hardest part was leaving my brother. And since I was gone so often, when I came home it was easier to get along. Now my parents will say it never changed, because we still bickered plenty, but that's brotherhood. Only him and I can tell you we truly got along better, and we did.

I can't remember the exact weekend or time I came home to visit, but I think it was right before we knew we wouldn't see each other for a while, so I want to say it was right before he left for the Air Force. Nobody was home and we were silently dreading my going to Cincinnati, which was coming soon. As time ticked down and I knew I couldn't drag it out any longer, I started to head out. We hugged as usual, no tears or anything girly like that, but to ease the pain, we started joking. 

I remember walking down the steps in our garage and for whatever reason, rap music videos became the topic. More specifically, random white guys dancing horribly in the background was the topic. I was at the bottom of the steps, slowly walking away as he demonstrated the moves, which consisted of simultaneous yet out-of-sync pelvic thrusts, headbangs, punching fists and an accompanying, overly loud "WOOOOO!!!!" As he did it I laughed, and in turn mimicked him, resulting in his laugh. We went back and forth for a little until we were both literally doubled over, laughing to hysterical tears. I slowly made my way to the car, through fits of literally painful laughter, and got in and drove off with a wave. 

Before I got to the end of the street, the grandparent-disapproved activity of texting while driving commenced (I'm including it because it's the cutest part). The conversation went something like this.

Me: That was soooo dumb

Him: Yeah but frickin hilarious

Me: Haha true, oh well.

Him: I'll miss you man

Me: We'll see each other soon. But I'll miss you too.

 Story 3:

If you don't want to know the insane thoughts that go through people's minds, then don't read this one. If you have had thoughts that you thought made you insane, but have never admitted it, then you are not alone. This can be disturbing if you stifle those thoughts or ignore them, but I think it's part of what makes us human, so I'm going to be completely transparent, as usual, and share them.

My brother was in basic training in Wichita Falls, starting the second phase of his enlistment after basic training. I was in Cincinnati, starting my senior year of classes. To communicate, we used Skype. He called me one day, and he was deeply disturbed.

I could see the hesitation in his pixelated face, and asked him what was up. 

"I think I'm going crazy man," he said in a scared tone.

I replied with a simple "why," deciding to let him just be honest.

"I don't know how else to put this but I'm going to be forward." I thought he knocked someone up at this point, but he continued and I learned something entirely different.

"We've been at the shooting range this week, and some weird thoughts have gone through my head." Again he hesitated, and I prodded him further.

"I pictured myself turning to the side and just shooting everyone in my batallion." His voice cracked here, then he asked what he dreaded. 

"Does that make me crazy?"

I laughed and told him "no,"and I followed with my own "demented" visualizations.

"Junior year I had a Spanish Culture class and I sat behind this beautiful girl from the Eastern-African country of Eritrea. Where she came from gave her the most beautiful complexion and some days she would wear her hair up, exposing her neck. Whenever she did this, I would look at her neck, and imagine myself taking my pen and jamming it into there, or taking my pocket knife and pulling her head back and cutting her throat (His eyes widened here too, so it's having the same effect on you). I then pictured myself sprinting out of the classroom, bowling over anyone who stepped in my way, running to the ATM and withdrawing everything I had, running to my car and taking off in some direction, only to be caught immediately, stepping out my car and acting as though I had a gun in my back pocket, aggressively grabbing for it and going down in a blaze of gunfire like Sonny from the Godfather."

His jaw was dropped. 

"You think you're crazy? You're not crazy at all, that's a normal thought we humans have when we know we have power. You're only crazy if you act out those fantasies."

"Holy shit, dude. Thanks."

(Don't think of me differently, I guarantee this has happened to most of you)

These are just a few of the stories that cover what has happened between us. For those of you with brothers, or sisters even, these might ring home. If not, maybe the following list will contain some of the roles or ideas you have of a sibling.

 

Wingman, placing blame, accepting blame, forgiveness, inspiration, fun, comic relief, inside jokes, telling stories, shared growth, vent, a second opinion, a punching bag(literally and figuratively), subject of a narrative, making plans, empathizing, sympathizing, guinea pig-ing, emotional support, infallible physical support(you hit whoever hits your brother, no matter how big) taking out frustrations, pushing buttons, understanding a broken heart, whatever you need.

Specifically, this one is for my brother and all other brothers who love their brothers like we love each other. That bond is unbreakable.

What makes a person?

Literally, I guess it's this kind of stuff. If I remember more from my biology classes, I probably could have come up with something better, but this is a start.

Obviously, this is not the question my title is asking. It's more figurative, as in how do we determine what makes a person good/bad, smart/dumb, promising/failing, etc. Or, what do we use to judge a person versus what actually makes them inherently good or bad.

This is impossible to answer completely, because each of our opinions concerning inherent goodness will be different, but I will proceed using mine, or rather my idea, because this is hard to define.

A couple days ago I got a call from a friend saying that he narrowly missed disaster because a local kid was found in their driveway by cops, tripping on drugs, and claiming people in the house had beat them up. Because of his state and the fact that nobody was home, my friend suffered no consequences. It wasn't until a couple days later I realized the boy tripping was somebody we knew, a kid who was a few years below me in our high school.

I never hung out with the kid then, or really ever. I remember taking woodworking with him and thought he was a nice, funny kid and we got along. We saw each other occasionally each summer, playing poker or at parties, and he always seemed really happy to see me and always greeted me with a handshake or whatever. Because I didn't know him very well and he did this, I always liked him. He was always happy, always ready to have a good time, and always happy to see an old face. He did a lot of other things I didn't know about, I am sure, but this was enough for me to think that this kid was inherently good. Not many people can be as friendly as he was, which is why the news about him has upset so many people.

He was the one tripping in my friend's driveway(on bath salts, and admittedly foolish drug to mess with) and is now in a coma. As with any coma, it's serious. I've seen on Facebook people offering their condolences and saying prayers and such, but the few people I've talked to privately have said the same thing: "I hope he does well, but he is an idiot for putting himself in that situation," or something to that effect.

Can I argue with that? Sure, I probably could, but really bath salts aren't something to mess with. Was he dumb for taking them? Well not exactly, it was a bad decision. I make bad decisions often but I don't think I am dumb. Was he setting himself up for this situation, one where things had to get so bad for him to possibly see what he needs to change? That's possible. Is he a bad guy? I don't think so.

Are decisions what make a person? Absolutely not, but in this case, I think that's what people will see. I think a lot of those people praying for him are probably also thinking that he is a stupid person or maybe even a bad guy. I know that likely none of them wish ill on him, but I bet they can't help but be mad at him or judge him. I don't blame them for that either, but I don't think they should.

One, the kid has been in a tough spot. He always was experimenting with drugs, but as far as I know, it was never anything too serious. That was until his dad died over a year ago and then things got worse. He probably got started and never could stop. It was probably a way to ease his pain and it was impossible to control. I don't think this is an excuse, but I think it's a contributor.

The other reason I don't think he should be judged is because of what I said about him before. I think he is an inherently good guy who took a bad path. He made bad decisions that led to bad outcomes, but we all do that, and only we would know how it feels when we are in that situation. If he is conscious, I bet he just wants people to know he knows he messed up, and right now he is unable too. We can't judge him for this decision, because it does not make him who he is.

But that's what happens. People make a decision and often live their lives being defined by it. If he pulls out of the coma, he may continue to just float by and do nothing, being the kid from my high school who once went into a coma from taking bath salts. If he doesn't pull out, he will be the kid who died using bath salts. 

What if he pulls out and changes, and becomes a spokesperson for anti-drug campaigns. Or he decides life is too short and goes to college? Then he becomes the kid who had a rough past that turned things around. Notice the exemption of "bath salts" in that title. And that really is what can happen. Nobody will ever acknowledge that the kid is naturally a good kid if he either dies or continues down the same path. And if he pulls out and turns his life around, he will be praised. What's the difference here? A decision, and I think that's unfair.

Sure, it's wonderful to see someone learn from their mistakes, in fact that's what the difference between stupidity and intelligence is. But a decision does not make a person, it's a mere step in a timeline. When you leave this earth, do you want to be summed up by a series of anecdotes or milestones? Probably not. I know I want my eulogy to be filled with comments on who I was as a man, what I was like to be around, how I helped others, how much some people loved me. Not where I graduated from, not what jobs I held or where I lived, not the mistakes I made and how I learned from them. Yes, these contribute to who we are and put us in situations that can change us as people, but they should never define us. 

So before judging someone(which I don't think should really be done at all, but if it weren't, we wouldn't be human) think about your criteria. Do you want to be known for your mistakes, or for who you were?

Thank You for Thanking Me

Who or what do you think they're bowing to? A painting of Jesus, a preacher, a crucifix? Any of those answers is completely normal. What if they were just bowing to a normal person? For me, that would change a lot. Well that's what I feel like I am a part of with my job, and this is what a lot of people are asking for.

As with a lot of my pictures, this is an exaggeration. The people in my organization where I work do not expect people to literally bow down at their feet and praise. No, that would be ridiculous. Especially because this is our job, to help others, so when we do our job we shouldn't expect to be praised or even thanked, right? In fact, we're getting paid to do what we do, so really there shouldn't be much acknowledgment at all, or at least not an expectation of it.

Yet as my tenure slowly grows, the vibe I get from this place is not at all what I would expect from somewhere with an intent to help, to make a difference. Ideally, I think we should all should just continue helping because it's what we love to do, and if it's not, then you shouldn't be a part of the job. 

(I can't go into to much detail, for risk of offending someone who may be involved with this)

But a dentist doesn't wish to be praised after pulling a wisdom tooth does he? A truck driver doesn't get praised for making a timely delivery. A police officer definitely doesn't get praised after writing a parking  ticket. And it's all because this is their JOB. Way to go, you did what you were supposed to. I stopped getting congratulated for that when I became a teenager. So why do the people in my job constantly need to be reminded at what they do is so wonderful?

Look, I know that my job is more admirable on the surface level than most. "We dedicate our lives to helping others as opposed to just helping ourselves." We help the youth of the area get better opportunities then they might have without our help. That's fantastic in itself, but you know what equals it out? The fact that we get a paycheck. And you know what would happen to those that stopped helping the youth of the area get better opportunities? They'd stop getting that paycheck. It's a regular job... Duh.

But every time I meet with the other employees of my organization, we take time to go over anecdotes from our work that are "exceptional." I think the idea on the surface is to inspire the other employees to try to do something similar, to draw from that story and help another student. But it doesn't seem like that. Whenever the story is finished, you hear approving comments that seem to say things like "wow, it's amazing what we can do here," or "man, if it weren't for us, that kid wouldn't be anywhere." The anecdote, which should be a celebration of the accomplishments of the student revolve into compliments to ourselves. And I will say it again. It's our JOOOOOBBBBBB...

When all of those are shared by individuals, there is usually a wrap up from a higher-up in the company that nearly always is a reminder of how amazing it is the things we do. There are comments about how wonderful the work we do is, how much of a difference we make, how selfless we all are... Blah blah blah... 

I don't mean to tear apart what we do. I will admit that it is true that a lot of the things students accomplish in this area likely wouldn't have happened without being directed by someone in our program. But again, we get paid to guide them, so why are we so special? We aren't.

The attitude taken in this job needs to be the same attitude taken with any job. This is what I get paid to do, so that's what I am going to do. Sure, it's nice to be complimented from time to time, to be recognized for a significant accomplishment, but it seems that someone has to get praised every time a student does something right. It's sick, and it's worse than being praised in any other job, and here is why.

Our goal and our mission is to help others. Let's ignore the fact that we get paid for now and just keep in mind what it is that we do. We help others. If you get into this job to do that, then you should be happy enough when a kid gets a 3.0 GPA for the first time or gets into a 4-year college. You helped someone else. That was wonderful, it really is, but that's all the further it needs to go. If you get a compliment or a thanks from the student, that's a bonus. But it seems that a lot of the people in my organization feel slighted when someone doesn't tell them they made a difference. Well, then maybe you're not in for the cause as much as you thought you were because making the difference is all that matters, not being recognized for it.

This one reads a lot more like a rant that previous ones, and it pretty much is (it's also much angrier than the others), but I still do have a message. For those of you that are ever in the position to help others, or want to go into a service like this, or want to join a volunteer organization, go in without expectations of being recognized. I say this because if your goal is to help others and then you want to be congratulated for it, then you weren't being as selfless as you thought. The "helping others" part gets tainted because you were also seeking to help yourself in some way. It may get frustrating as time passes and you don't get many thanks or congratulations, but I can tell you what makes that all easier. Whenever you get used to not being recognized, whenever you lose that expectation entirely, someone will thank you for making a difference, a genuine appreciation for your work, and it will floor you. Being thanked for something you didn't realize you did is so much more powerful than waiting for one and getting it.