North and Low

I have been a bad blogger again. It is difficult to motivate myself to write sometimes, though it always helps me feel better. The truth is, it's been a low year here in Michigan. I miss the heat of San Antonio, the friends of Texas and Kansas, having a job and feeling like the man of the house. Graduate school has been nice, but I have ruptured two discs in my back and haven't been able to sit or stand for three weeks now. I am only funded to do research through the summer session, and I doubt I will be able to contribute much from my prone and medicated position. My long-planned vacation to Mexico is occurring without me, and I spend my days eating percocet like candy and waiting for the doctors to consider my pain as urgent as I do.

Miss Neverpoop is at least enjoying her Tour de Grandparent: a three week trip to Kansas City and Fort Collins to visit her four sets of grandparents. She will be joined by Dr. Wife for the last 5 days, who will visit her family. I'm sure by the time I see her again she will be thoroughly pampered by doting parents. Dad will be much less entertaining than the boating, camping, puppy-owning, attention-lavishing grandparents. But that is as it should be.

As for my brain, it has been occupied with a retarded amount of facebook ogling, daytime TV drooling, and moping about. I have lost 15 pounds, because I have no appetite and I spent a lot of my time tensed in pain. It has been a long three weeks, though parts of it were a blur of sedative.

I keep looking for bright sides, but there are few to be had right now. I'm not going to fall apart, but I think life has gotten the better of me for the time being. I dislike being this negative, but until the pain stops this may be the best I can do. I should know more in a day, as I am scheduled for an epidural injection in the morning. If that works, I will be back to mobile by the weekend. If it doesn't, I will get on the list for surgery as soon as possible.

The Fu

I love martial arts. LOVE. So much that if given the choice between internet porn and kung fu movie clips, I will chose kung fu. Yes, you freaks, I do know that there are videos that include both, but I will leave that blog to other, more twisted folks.

And I love martial arts in all its forms. I love the real, urban-military styles being used by soldiers around the world. I love the mystic KungFu! of fiction, complete with glowing fists and Sinanju masters. I even love the little precious-moment-like children at tae kwon do tournaments with their giant headgear tagging each other for points. I love the slow, grounding, and potentially healing properties of Qigong and Tai Chi.

So why am I not a martial artist? The truth: I'm lazy. It would require me to cut out time and money in my life that I don't want to part with. And I'm afraid of my back. Loading the dishes wrong can leave me limping for months. I'm afraid of what trying to kick above my own waist would do at this point. I'm not afraid of the pain of being punched or kicked or thrown. But living with the deep senseless pain of bad discs is something else.

I miss it. I miss the quiet minded feeling of bunkai fighting drills... The immediate reward of a well executed move as an opponent is stopped... The immediate lesson of a dropped guard or a raised elbow...

It is a transformation of a person. A growth from fat, lazy, anxious people to confident, strong, alert warriors. A balance of quick and calm that I don't feel in other places of life. It is not that I imagine myself ever being Jet Li or Bruce Lee. But it would be nice to feel... more solid?

HULK SMASH!!!

Do you want to know what pisses me off? Think about it. You may have seen me sad, upset, irritated, annoyed, happy, ecstatic, jubilint, and sleepy. Or any other number of dwarf-names/emotions.

But have you ever seen me flip out? Lose control and throw shit? Punch something never intended to be punched? Or even scream insults at someone? Not just ordinary insults, either, but those deep down, I-can-see-into-your-soul's-weak-spot-and-stab-it insults? Have you seen me lash out with a blind and unreasoning rage as if Cops is being filmed live on my location? Probably not.

It is a rare thing. And when it does happen, I tend to flee the scene before the filters that normally block it all back are blown apart. Even that can be dangerous now that I am big and coordinated. As a fat little kid, it might have been a funny sight to see me storm off mid-scream with tiny fists. But I'm 6'2", 200 pounds, and have no fear of other people's punches. Doors wouldn't open fast enough.

So let's say, for argument's sake, that you needed to piss me off. Outside of truly comic book scenarios, I can't imagine a situation in which you would need this. But let's say it occurred. How would you trigger it?

Money. Having it taken away. Being billed for random reasons. Not being able to talk to a person who has the power or information to resolve or explain the issue.

Now I don't mean the daily occurance stuff. A messed up bill at a restaurant? I would probably just pay it and not worry about it. Rung up wrong at the local book store? No problem, just an excuse to laugh with a new salesperson-buddy. And the monthly bill-paying? Just part of the routine.

But when a billion dollar company tries to send ME to collection for a bill that they cannot justify or explain? When after two hours and five customer service employees representing three different languages they cannot explain the bill and I am STILL being penalized?!

I had to stop writing this for a minute and walk away. Even picturing the scenario was making me sick... You see, this happened to me this morning. I know, you're surprised. And it took every bit of control I had to calm down.

Every.
Ounce.
Of.
Control.

I had to channel my inner Bruce Banner...
I WANT TO SNAP YOUR SOULS IN HALF!!!!
I am a pebble in a stream...
I DO NOT FAIL MY FAMILY LIKE THIS BECAUSE YOU ARE A BLOATED CORPORATION THAT IS WRITHING IN THE FESTERING PILE OF YOUR LIES!!!
My coffee is warm, and that is good...
PRAY TO YOUR BASTARD GOD THAT I NEVER FIND WHERE YOU LIVE BECAUSE I WILL ENTER YOUR HOME AND BURN IT TO THE GROUND AROUND US!!!
Language barriers, international phone delays, and bloated billing systems are not the fault of this man on the phone...
I AM BECOME DEATH!!! I WILL THROW A COUCH INTO YOUR FACE!!!
Say thank you, hang up the phone, lower my shoulders out of my ears...

Really, I was good. Stern, to the point, insistent, but not rude or yelling. But sweet-mighty-Kevin-Bacon I was in a tempest of raw rage on the inside. It was close, but for now, the beast was contained.

Where does this anger come from?! How does it hide within me? Really, not much else can bring it out. Slap me? I'll make a joke. Spit in my food? You'll get a stern reprimand. Fat joke? I make worse to myself most days, I'm sure.

If only I could harness this power for good. Or at least superhuman abilities and superhero physique...

More cowbell?

I went to the doctor today. I am one of the many people who totally fail at the whole "preventative care" thing. But thanks to many, many people nagging me to get a new doc in this town, I decided to give it a go. Another back spasm was pretty good encouragement, though thankfully it has faded away.

My body and I go waaaay back. And it's a pretty adversarial relationship. It tries to get fatter, I eat more veggies. It gets depressed, I crank up funky tunes. It ruptures discs randomly, I have them removed.

In fairness, I don't always treat it well. God knows I have tried at times to drown it in beer. And I do pretend to be athletic, despite the blatantly obvious evidence to the contrary. It likes sunshine and heat, and I'm living in Kalamazoo.

Can we get along, this oafish tower of flesh and I? Must we continue this cycle of pain? Oh, the huge manatee!

Sorry, melodramatic there...

So, I'm calling a bit of a truce. Body, I promise to regularly visit physicians to check up on you, rather than waiting for you to cripple me with pain. In return, please only turn me into a whimpering lump of agony with good reason. I promise to continue the regular exercise and a reasonably healthy diet (you may still have cookies). In exchange, let's get into those 34 waist jeans a bit more comfortably, ok?

This could work. Maybe this is a dawn of a bike-riding, beer-tasting, child-chasing, bass-playing power team of The Rover and His Body.

Now, body, I just have one question... What are we going to do about the strip of industrial strength adhesive tape holding that damn cotton ball on our elbow? Really, we're fuzzy and it's gonna hurt.

End of 2008

Let me start my "End of 2008" post by saying clear and straight: I have no fucking clue. None. I never have, and the older I get the more convinced I am I will never have one. Normally, I'm ok with this. Zen. Yoda. But not right now.

Right now, I would like a clue. A little insight. I'm having a tough time not getting bogged down in the moment. For the first time since high school, I feel like I'm in high school. And in case you didn't know me then, that isn't a good thing. I lack confidence, perspective, reality, and drive. I find it difficult to trust. I'm quick to anger and cynical. My heart pounds with fear. I'm getting fat again.

"Unclench," I tell myself. "Really, it works its way around, this world. You don't have to push it." I'm carrying the baggage of the past few years too heavily. My past mistakes, losses, responsibilities, and failures are heavy like dripping canvas laid over my head.

And that's not right. Why is it so easy to feel those burdens but so difficult to remember the blessings, wins, privileges, and successes? Why don't they dry those canvases, fill them with laughing gases and launch me into the air? Maybe they do for you. I hope so. For me, it's tougher.

There are some fundamental principles that I want to live by, and I will try to adhere to them better this year. Here are the ones of which I am aware:

1) My daughter first.
2) My happiness is my responsibility, and I can't ignore it.
3) Trust my gut on people. I'm really never wrong when I listen.
4) Get past the grudges.
5) Breathe deeply.

Goodbye 2008. You did a good job of proving to me that I still don't have a clue. But really, that hasn't stopped me yet.

Hallmark has a card for it.

I don't know how to write about it. It's been one year since Eddie died. I have tried to write about that day, about the moments that crashed across those of us who loved him. But I can't do them justice. So I won't try.
I learned that day that I can be immeasurably fragile and unquestionably strong at the same time.
That day tempered me, and I'm still raw from the forge. I'm on the right path, I suppose. But I was changed by his passing, as I was changed by his life.
I miss you, Mr. No-Hair. I'm hugging you in my heart, Mrs. No-Hair. I love you both.

The pen is mightier

I bought a pen. I can't remember the last time I bought a pen. Pens arent' purchased. They are acquired. They move, stealthily through the world to my desks, pockets, truck, and kitchen. At night, herds of inky plastic tubes dart from shadow to shadow, searching for the seat cushion cracks and backpacks that they will call home.

I don't mean to imply that I bought a fancy pen. Pilot G-2. Standard notebook use, though the rubber grippy is nice. It really would be a great little night, but I made the mistake of clicking on Denis Leary's "Lock 'n Load" album on the Zune. And realized it was released 10 years ago, right as I was preparing to graduate undergrad.

And then it hit me. My 10 year college reunion is here. I've been teaching as long as it took me to go through junior high, high school, and college combined. Oh, sweet Kevin Bacon Lord of All I'm old! As of this spring, I will have been a father for the same length of time I was a college kid.

There ain't a scotch strong enough to knock that right. Am I really that old?

I suppose I'll go when the time comes. I enjoyed college like Robin Williams enjoyed cocaine. High school is fading from my memory (and junior high was gone from my skull years ago), and if a reunion occurred, I was blissfully unaware. But college? I'll go. I will even pull out my Spin Doctors, Morphine, and Presidents of the United States of America CD's and load them up in anticipation.