What Gets Me Through the Day

Cam: Someone really needs to find a Tailspin clip right now.

Ryan: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_cMaGt52QE&feature=related

Cam: what a great show

Ryan: Do you remember when they filled the plane with icecream so the heat seeking missles wouldn't get them?

Cam: hahahaha, no

Tolley: I loved that show

Me: I never got Tale Spin. So the bear from Jungle Book learned to fly?

I was always confused by the characters.

Tolley: there were actually a few characters from Jungle Book that were in Talespin. If it wasnt far fetched that Baloo could talk, why is it far fetched that he learned to fly a plane?

Cam: Was he the actual Jungle Book character though?

me: I didn't say it was far fetched. I just never knew if that was him or not.

Cam: so, mogli grew up and Baloo decided it was time to grow up and start a career as a pilot?

Tolley: yeah, bears live forever...like parrots.

Cam: Alright, all cleared up.

R.A.M.O.N.E.S. (How I Stayed Entertained Today)

Pennywise

Green Day At least watch till 2:07. That guy is awesome.

Bruce Springsteen

Motorhead

And my personal favorite: Pearl Jam

Thanks, Internets.

Texas Update

It has been about a month since we first arrived in Texas. We are liking it so far. Thanks to having some contacts down here that can show us around we have been able to do a lot of fun stuff already. We were introduced to the San Marcos River on our second day which was the 4th of July. We were told that we only had about two weeks to get in the river before before we were banished from the city. We saw the Martindale Parade, which was awesome as you can see from a highlight below:




I went on a day long barbecue trip that started at Snow's and ended with a two hour wait at Franklins.

We saw the world's largest urban bat colony,

and the Alamo.

So far, though, the highlight of our Texas adventure has been the Alamo Drafthouse. This might be my favorite spot on the planet. I know I have some other places to check out still and I have only been to the Alamo Drafthouse once, but it is a pretty solid bet. Take a look at the website and signature events and tell me this place is not awesome.

Firsts and Lasts

Moving day is coming up very quickly. Chelsea and I went to Lake Powell recently, and during the trip someone mentioned that we were leaving in two weeks and it kind of floored me; I honestly didn't realize it was so close. We are now in the midst of having our last get-togethers with friends and family.

Saying goodbye to the young ones of the family is always the hardest part. I will miss the adult members of my family, too, of course, but I guess in those cases I know what I am missing. I have nieces and nephews ranging from eleven to two. For them, interests are beginning to form and solidify. Personalities are either beginning to shine through or are really starting to mature. I will miss a lot of their growing up these next three years.

I recently wrote a couple of paragraphs that are going to allow me to finally finish a story I have been working on for a while (and makes it so I have to change the tense of every single verb). They talk about the importance of firsts in life. Basically, they explore Gordie's assertion in Stand By Me that nobody has friends like the friends they had when they were twelve. You can meet all the people you can in your adult life, and tell them all the stories you want about the experiences that made you you, but no matter how well you tell it, they didn't experience it with you. Your new friends can never be there the first time.

When I say goodbye to the young ones I think about all the firsts I will miss, then I think about all the firsts I have already missed because maybe I wasn't trying to hard enough while I was still here, and so I vow to do better, and then I get angry because now I can't make good on my vow for another three years, and that makes saying goodbye that much harder.

Alumni

I graduated today (May 6^th). I have been so stressed lately with work and moving that I was having a hard time being excited or relieved about finishing my degree. There is something in me that doesn’t let me do excited. I show more emotion about having time to watch a game or go to a movie than I do about something like graduating from college. I was very happy today, although you couldn’t tell from looking at me. I am not sure what that is. The lack of outward emotion about something I accomplished probably comes from my stunted self-esteem which makes it difficult for me to give any credit to myself. Whatever I have done there is always someone that has done something cooler and better than I. This constant stream of thought is a real problem, and I have discussed it here before.

My family was very excited for today. Seeing their excitement was helpful because I could be happy that they were happy, but I still couldn’t share it, so I decided to leave early for campus, park at our now former apartment and walk up through campus for the last time alone. I put my headphones in and walked the path I had so many times before and my emotions started to arrive.

I walked by the patch of grass where I finished reading The God of Small Things and remembered how I had to hold back the tears while standing in line to pay for my lunch directly after because the book was so beautiful and so sad.

I walked through OSH one last time where most of my classes were held. As I walked through the unevenly air conditioned halls the difficulty of this accomplishment finally hit me. So much frustration and happiness occurred in that ugly building. I thought about the lectures and subjects that went over my head, the fight to understand, and then the attempts to write intelligently about them.

I laughed while thinking about the emails to my professor concerning my first ever twenty page paper. The paper seemed to be going nowhere and my professor compared my writing process to the Nine Circles of Hell. The paper was on Sydney’s Defense of Poesy and Astrophil and Stella. The grade for that class relied solely on that paper and I got an A. After that paper I finally began to feel that my education was coming together and that I actually sort of knew what I was doing.

I walked up the stairs and by the little store where I would stop and get breakfast every morning before my African American Lit class. I would usually end up in line next to my professor, and standing in line with him became a sort of pre-class ritual.

I walked by were I studied The Simpsons and then by the classroom where I wrote another twenty pages about Lord Byron’s Don Juan using Simpsons’ satire.

It finally hit me. I felt good about myself. I missed my college years and this stupid building that couldn’t decide if it wanted to sweat us out or freeze us numb and would spit steam at you if you dared mess with the thermostat. That’s not to say that I wanted to jump into another degree, because I didn’t, and don’t. I think it is healthy to be able to miss something without having the desire to go back, which is not always the case with me, and I enjoyed the feeling.

A Very Specific Part of Kansas

On Turning Twenty-Eight

I celebrated my first anniversary on the seventh. It feels strange to not be a newlywed anymore. Marriage is still relatively new to us of course, but now it no longer feels weird to be married. The first few months of marriage were pretty surreal. Whenever I said, "You are my wife. I am your husband," I couldn't be super confident that it was true. The fact that I am someone's husband still gets me every once in a while, but for the most part I'm used to that fact. What gets me now is how I continue to fall in love. It's shocking, really. Which seems weird to say because I knew I would love her more today, than I did on 1/07/10, but there are these moments where I look at her, or tell my keyboard about her, and I say to myself I just fell more in love and I am amazed all over again.

I will say that my favorite thing about the last year has been our opportunity to comfortably and confidently fall in love.

Another shocking thing is that my life actually seems easier. I expected life to be better, but not easier necessarily. There was going to be more bills, more decisions, more complications, etc., but I didn't realize how complicated my single life was. I mean, there isn't a lot in life that is as complicated as dating; stupid people and geniuses alike struggle with it. I have a great family and group of friends, but being able to talk to someone about your life isn't the same thing as having someone who is going through it with you. Chelsea knows my problems, fears, weaknesses, and so on, but not because I have told her about them (as that is the case most of the time), but because she experiences them with me. That is a huge difference, and having someone like that in your life makes it easier. Not to mention having a person there to take care of you when you are sick, and who doesn't care if you might be embellishing your illness a tad for a little extra attention, because for some damn reason they just like taking care of you. That's much easier than when I got pnuemonia a while ago and stayed in my room all alone for five days.

I now don't have to look for comfort or relief. For the most part both are right next to me; even more so with our tiny apartment.

I don't mean to say that life is a cakewalk now. Life was a kick in the drawers before and continues to be; it just doesn't hurt as much these days.

While we are talking about shocking things: I was worried that my writing would suffer after getting married. You know, the plight of the happy artist. So much of what I am interested in is what it is like to be human, and I suppose my main interest is in love. It seems like it can create more happiness than anything else in life, but also can be more destructive than hate or fear. Not revelation, I know, but that's the basis for my interest in it as a subject.

When I write I like to think about it as acting. I have spent a good portion of life watching my brother on stage. There have been times when I was little where I was scared or nervous about the person on stage because he was doing or saying something horrible and I believed that he meant it. It didn't seem like he was faking it.

I still have these moments. He's currently in Born Yesterday at Hale Center Theater, and he plays an intimidating A-hole. There is a moment where he walks on stage very angry with his girlfriend. He doesn't say anything. He stands there looking at her. It made me, and I'm sure everyone else in the theater, nervous.

The difference between those moments now and when I was little is that now I know that when I feel discomfort or unease it is a sign as to how succesful he is at acting his part. And although he doesn't say anything in the above mentioned moment, I think it may be his most succesful moment in the play. I don't think I have ever expressed what his acting has taught me about writing and art in general, because I am not a very good talker and I didn't want him to think that I believed it because I actually thought him capable of the things some of his characters do or say. He has taught me that the point to good art is not to provide an escape for the audience/reader/viewer, but it is a study of the real, and what we felt in that moment and so many others while watching him on stage is real. Even though he may be faking it, the result is not. Pretty cool.

There are people who think what I studied for a bachelors degree is awesome, and those who think that studying literature is an irresponsible use of the college years. What the people who don't get it are missing is that I was not studying fanciful fake worlds. I was studying this one.

And I am pleased with my education.

What I am trying to get at with all of this is that if I am writing a character who does or believes things I don't, the idea is not to dismiss them as evil or vulgar or wrong, but to understand them and learn from them because that is what I will want the reader to do. The world is a lot of things, and I don't believe that any of it should simply be escaped from (at least not permanently), but dealt with openly. I want to study what it is like to be that way, and then act that way while I'm writing so that when I type it I mean it. Whether it works or not, I don't know, but that is my desire.

The point is that being in a loving relationship and happy made me worry that I would lose touch with the other aspects of love and life, and be doomed to write gooey stories where dudes just gush about the person they love because that was all I knew. I thought I might lose the ability to act some parts. But it turns out that imagining life without Chelsea brings up all those feelings I was scared I would lose touch with so easily that I needn't have worried.

Writing a character that is lonely while I am in love is so much easier than writing a character that is in love while I am lonely.

I still don't like birthdays much. Hence the focus on my anniversary, probably. Chelsea decided to call it "Jeremy Day" instead to take the emphasis off of getting older and put it on the fact that I can do whatever I want today. It helps. I am not sure if there is a secret to life, but it is possible that it is finding something that makes you want to look forward. While I'd prefer to be celebrating many prior birthdays instead of my twenty-eighth, all I really want in this world is Chelsea. She wasn't there when I turned eighteen or twenty-one, so I tend to look toward the future more often these days. As long as she is with me, I don't care how hold I am.