As the year draws to a close I'm trying to think of something profound to say, or, at the very least, something really really funny. Sadly, I have neither. Every New Year's Eve I find myself saying, "Damn, the year went by fast." That can be good or bad depending on how you look at it.
It's weird. I'm looking at my journal and I made only 19 entries this year compared to 27 last year and 29 the year before. Long ago when I was an English Literature major I read a poem, the name of which escapes me now. The speaker was a writer who chronicled every moment of his life not for vanity's sake, but in hopes that he might better understand himself. For him, writing was a means of freezing a small part of himself in time, and later, when he was a few months more mature, he would come back and analyze his writings.
The problem was that he overdid it and this realization didn't come to him until the winter of his life. When he finally set the last piece of the puzzle he realized that life is best enjoyed by living, and that his quest to understand himself only masked the reality that he was living in the past. My resolutions last year can be summed up by a quote: May you live all the days of your life.
With the exception of one, I honored all of my resolutions. I still don't know how to make Chinese food that tastes like the stuff from the carryouts. That may not be such a bad thing.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
The D Is Silent
I just came back from seeing Django Unchained and my original plan was to pen something about how the movie made me feel, but I got sidelined by the discovery that there's apparently a lot of negative reaction to the film. I must have been living under a rock, because I had no idea. Sifting through all of the cursing and self-righteousness, I've found a handful of coherent arguments that accuse Tarantino of making a half-hearted, Hollywood, white-washed depiction of slavery.
These people obviously haven't seen the film. I'll admit, when I saw the trailer back in the summer I shook my head thinking "really?" I've seen all of his movies except Grindhouse and I expected some kind of tongue-in-cheek, dialogue-heavy film. I like those kinds of films, so I figured, why not. What I got, was a hell of a ride.
I've seen enough superhero movies in my time to be all to familiar with the buildup of tension throughout a film and I've become quite numb to the eventual payouts. While Django is anything but a superhero film, the formula is about the same. Step 1, show the horros of slavery. Step 2, introduce an unlikely hero. Step 3, the hero saves the day.
You know what though? All of the accusations of the writer/director doing a half-assed job of showing the horrors of slavery are unfounded in my opinion. Granted, the movie didn't show every aspect of the physical, psychological and cultural damage of slavery, but no movie can. Slavery was the backdrop, not the subject of the film. Still, what he did show was enough to drive the point home. And trust me, it wasn't white-washed at all.
Without spoiling anything, I'll say that there were scenes where even I found myself looking away. I love gory, kill-em-up films, but there were some moments in this one where emotion took over. Those people getting the hell beat out of them look like me and the only reason they're getting maimed is because they look like me. Cue Jamie Foxx, the superhero.
Yeah, it's not a superhero movie, but like I said, the formula is the same. Only this time, I'm not engaged because there's some monster trying to destroy a city. I'm fully on board because I just spent the last hour and a half watching people being treated like animals and I've never hated a fictional character as much as I do the people the screen right now. So when Django rides in on his horse, I get excited.
His costume is the indignation that 21st century me carries around. It's the dignity and self respect that I've been taught to exemplify my entire life, because, for centuries, some people did their best to beat it out of us. The feeling I get is akin to what I felt whenever I used to wrap a towel around my neck as a child and pretend to be flying around with Superman on the screen. I see a former slave ride into a plantation and do what so many of us claim we'd do "if I were alive back then."
Was it the best movie of all time? Absolutely not. It's not even my favorite Tarantino film. But I came away entertained and I stood and clapped more times than I'd like to admit. And I wasn't alone in doing so. No one walked out of that theater thinking "slavery wasn't that bad." If anything, people walked out feeling bad that Django wasn't real.
These people obviously haven't seen the film. I'll admit, when I saw the trailer back in the summer I shook my head thinking "really?" I've seen all of his movies except Grindhouse and I expected some kind of tongue-in-cheek, dialogue-heavy film. I like those kinds of films, so I figured, why not. What I got, was a hell of a ride.
I've seen enough superhero movies in my time to be all to familiar with the buildup of tension throughout a film and I've become quite numb to the eventual payouts. While Django is anything but a superhero film, the formula is about the same. Step 1, show the horros of slavery. Step 2, introduce an unlikely hero. Step 3, the hero saves the day.
You know what though? All of the accusations of the writer/director doing a half-assed job of showing the horrors of slavery are unfounded in my opinion. Granted, the movie didn't show every aspect of the physical, psychological and cultural damage of slavery, but no movie can. Slavery was the backdrop, not the subject of the film. Still, what he did show was enough to drive the point home. And trust me, it wasn't white-washed at all.
Without spoiling anything, I'll say that there were scenes where even I found myself looking away. I love gory, kill-em-up films, but there were some moments in this one where emotion took over. Those people getting the hell beat out of them look like me and the only reason they're getting maimed is because they look like me. Cue Jamie Foxx, the superhero.
Yeah, it's not a superhero movie, but like I said, the formula is the same. Only this time, I'm not engaged because there's some monster trying to destroy a city. I'm fully on board because I just spent the last hour and a half watching people being treated like animals and I've never hated a fictional character as much as I do the people the screen right now. So when Django rides in on his horse, I get excited.
His costume is the indignation that 21st century me carries around. It's the dignity and self respect that I've been taught to exemplify my entire life, because, for centuries, some people did their best to beat it out of us. The feeling I get is akin to what I felt whenever I used to wrap a towel around my neck as a child and pretend to be flying around with Superman on the screen. I see a former slave ride into a plantation and do what so many of us claim we'd do "if I were alive back then."
Was it the best movie of all time? Absolutely not. It's not even my favorite Tarantino film. But I came away entertained and I stood and clapped more times than I'd like to admit. And I wasn't alone in doing so. No one walked out of that theater thinking "slavery wasn't that bad." If anything, people walked out feeling bad that Django wasn't real.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Verify Eligibility?
I'm just venting right now. Feel free to not even read this.
My wife just got a letter in the mail from her job asking her to "verify dependent eligibility." That's code for "prove these people are related to you before we put them on your insurance." What the hell? This is about as "first world problem-ish" as things can get. I should just be happy that we live in a place with running water, lights and jobs that offer discounted insurance...but I'm still a little peeved.
Now I'm sure everybody at her job got one, that is everyone with dependents. I don't believe we were unfairly targeted in any way, but is the economy that bad nowadays? It only bothers me because I used to work for (Big Brother Almiiiigh-ty) Health Insurance Company. In fact, (potential employers looking to hire me) I was the manager of our Employer Service Line division consisting of ninety-eight representatives. I know the ins and outs of enrollment and billing policies.
With that said...REALLY? You want me to send you a birth certificate to prove that "Baby Allen" is the daughter of "Wife Allen?" And then when it comes to me, it's not enough to send in a marriage certificate. You broke it down into columns. "One item from Column B and one item from Column C." REALLY? The thought never even crossed my mind that divorcees would game the system and claim their exes on their plan.
This letter exposes just how dysfunctional and unorganized our family is. I don't have a copy of last year's tax returns. Somebody in this family (who shall remain nameless) still hasn't updated the driver's license to show the new address so I can't prove it through that. We went paperless so I don't have a printed copy of my bank statement, although I guess I could print one out, but then I gotta go buy a ream of paper. We're gonna get divorced arguing about stuff before we get verified.
And all of this comes on top of the insurance rates going up but the benefits going down. Don't get me wrong, the benefits are way better than they could be. I used to see some really crappy policies come across my desk at Big Brother Insurance. I talked to a guy who had a $10k deductible for everything. I don't even know why he had insurance. But, as an employee...<Insert Praise Dance> My plan was only seven dollars a month and the benefits were so good that if someone shot me, they would hire a stunt double to come in and take the bullet for me.
But that was then and this is now. Health insurance costs continue to rise, the economy sucks and companies have to cut costs wherever possible. Back then we knew that people were probably dumping fake relatives on their plans, so I can see the rationale. And based on my insider information of how much these plans cost the employers, they'd be fools not to check. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.
And now that my house is in complete disorder, because we have no proof that we're still married...I just need someone to blame. So I blame you, "Company That Shall Go Unnamed Because My Wife Needs A Job Because Only One Of Us Is Working!"
My wife just got a letter in the mail from her job asking her to "verify dependent eligibility." That's code for "prove these people are related to you before we put them on your insurance." What the hell? This is about as "first world problem-ish" as things can get. I should just be happy that we live in a place with running water, lights and jobs that offer discounted insurance...but I'm still a little peeved.
Now I'm sure everybody at her job got one, that is everyone with dependents. I don't believe we were unfairly targeted in any way, but is the economy that bad nowadays? It only bothers me because I used to work for (Big Brother Almiiiigh-ty) Health Insurance Company. In fact, (potential employers looking to hire me) I was the manager of our Employer Service Line division consisting of ninety-eight representatives. I know the ins and outs of enrollment and billing policies.
With that said...REALLY? You want me to send you a birth certificate to prove that "Baby Allen" is the daughter of "Wife Allen?" And then when it comes to me, it's not enough to send in a marriage certificate. You broke it down into columns. "One item from Column B and one item from Column C." REALLY? The thought never even crossed my mind that divorcees would game the system and claim their exes on their plan.
This letter exposes just how dysfunctional and unorganized our family is. I don't have a copy of last year's tax returns. Somebody in this family (who shall remain nameless) still hasn't updated the driver's license to show the new address so I can't prove it through that. We went paperless so I don't have a printed copy of my bank statement, although I guess I could print one out, but then I gotta go buy a ream of paper. We're gonna get divorced arguing about stuff before we get verified.
And all of this comes on top of the insurance rates going up but the benefits going down. Don't get me wrong, the benefits are way better than they could be. I used to see some really crappy policies come across my desk at Big Brother Insurance. I talked to a guy who had a $10k deductible for everything. I don't even know why he had insurance. But, as an employee...<Insert Praise Dance> My plan was only seven dollars a month and the benefits were so good that if someone shot me, they would hire a stunt double to come in and take the bullet for me.
But that was then and this is now. Health insurance costs continue to rise, the economy sucks and companies have to cut costs wherever possible. Back then we knew that people were probably dumping fake relatives on their plans, so I can see the rationale. And based on my insider information of how much these plans cost the employers, they'd be fools not to check. But that doesn't mean I have to like it.
And now that my house is in complete disorder, because we have no proof that we're still married...I just need someone to blame. So I blame you, "Company That Shall Go Unnamed Because My Wife Needs A Job Because Only One Of Us Is Working!"
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Giving Ski Lessons
Random Memory #12: My first and only ski lesson
By now, everyone knows that I integrated Kayaking, and most of you know that it was a followup to my integrating skiing and ice skating. But, I don't want you guys to walk away from this blog thinking that I'm superhuman and without flaws. So I'm gonna pull back the curtain and reveal some vulnerability.
The first time I ever skied was in elementary school at the tender age of eight. I went back a few more times, but retired from the sport when I was eleven (I graduated from elementary school and my middle school never went). Sometime in the tenth grade I decided to go on the ski trip up to Killington, VT.
Up until then, my skiing experiences all took place at Ski Liberty in Pennsylvania. Compared to Killington, the slopes at Ski Liberty are the equivalent of going down a handicapped ramp on the sidewalk. But I didn't know that at the time, and throughout the entire 11 hour bus ride I channeled Muhammad Ali a little too much: "I am the greatest! I don't even need skis. I can go down in some church shoes."
The minute I got there and saw what I thought was the summit and someone told me that it was just the bunny slope...I knew I was in trouble. But I had to double down. I had convinced this girl to stick with me, because I was gonna teach her how to ski. I liked the girl and it was a four-day high school trip with only two chaperones. Obviously I had certain...aspirations, but the best way to control teenage hormones is to get to the top of a ski slope and to look a girl in the eye and say "Don't worry, I got you. Now look at my feet. To slow down, you need to make a wedge with your feet."
Now, after saying that, I look up and realize that she is much further away than she was when I first looked down. I see her mouthing something, but I can't really hear it. It looks like "Help Me," but I can't really be sure. I instantly realize that when I said, Look at me," she didn't turn her head like a normal person would've. Instead, she turned her whole body (feet and all) to face me. In doing so, her skis lined up with the slope of the hill and she is now skiing backwards down the hill.
And that's where hormones come in. On the one hand, if I catch her then I'm a hero and I'm definitely gonna have a nice evening, but on the other hand, I haven't actually skied in like four years. Come to think of it, I've never been on a mountain this size and, rather impressively, she's now veering over toward the blue square/black diamond area. The guys from the Hormone Department had an emergency meeting with the guys from the Self-Preservation Department. There was a lot of back and forth, but ultimately they decided to let her go.
I won't lie, I was a little nervous when we got back to the bus and no one had seen her the whole day, but it turns out that she came to rest in a group of people taking beginner's ski lessons (I'm not making this up) and the instructor let her join the group after hearing what happened. Personally, I saw that as God's will, but she didn't. She cursed me out when she finally made it to the bus and didn't speak to me the rest of the trip. It didn't matter. Right after she disappeared from view, who came off the ski lift alone? A girl that I really, really liked.
"Weren't you with ____, Ordale? I think I just saw her going down the hill."
"No, she was going to do her own thing. I'm riding dolo. Where's your little troupe?"
"They're scared. I'm going up to the top. You wanna come with me?"
"Why, yes I do."
By now, everyone knows that I integrated Kayaking, and most of you know that it was a followup to my integrating skiing and ice skating. But, I don't want you guys to walk away from this blog thinking that I'm superhuman and without flaws. So I'm gonna pull back the curtain and reveal some vulnerability.
The first time I ever skied was in elementary school at the tender age of eight. I went back a few more times, but retired from the sport when I was eleven (I graduated from elementary school and my middle school never went). Sometime in the tenth grade I decided to go on the ski trip up to Killington, VT.
Up until then, my skiing experiences all took place at Ski Liberty in Pennsylvania. Compared to Killington, the slopes at Ski Liberty are the equivalent of going down a handicapped ramp on the sidewalk. But I didn't know that at the time, and throughout the entire 11 hour bus ride I channeled Muhammad Ali a little too much: "I am the greatest! I don't even need skis. I can go down in some church shoes."
The minute I got there and saw what I thought was the summit and someone told me that it was just the bunny slope...I knew I was in trouble. But I had to double down. I had convinced this girl to stick with me, because I was gonna teach her how to ski. I liked the girl and it was a four-day high school trip with only two chaperones. Obviously I had certain...aspirations, but the best way to control teenage hormones is to get to the top of a ski slope and to look a girl in the eye and say "Don't worry, I got you. Now look at my feet. To slow down, you need to make a wedge with your feet."
Now, after saying that, I look up and realize that she is much further away than she was when I first looked down. I see her mouthing something, but I can't really hear it. It looks like "Help Me," but I can't really be sure. I instantly realize that when I said, Look at me," she didn't turn her head like a normal person would've. Instead, she turned her whole body (feet and all) to face me. In doing so, her skis lined up with the slope of the hill and she is now skiing backwards down the hill.
And that's where hormones come in. On the one hand, if I catch her then I'm a hero and I'm definitely gonna have a nice evening, but on the other hand, I haven't actually skied in like four years. Come to think of it, I've never been on a mountain this size and, rather impressively, she's now veering over toward the blue square/black diamond area. The guys from the Hormone Department had an emergency meeting with the guys from the Self-Preservation Department. There was a lot of back and forth, but ultimately they decided to let her go.
I won't lie, I was a little nervous when we got back to the bus and no one had seen her the whole day, but it turns out that she came to rest in a group of people taking beginner's ski lessons (I'm not making this up) and the instructor let her join the group after hearing what happened. Personally, I saw that as God's will, but she didn't. She cursed me out when she finally made it to the bus and didn't speak to me the rest of the trip. It didn't matter. Right after she disappeared from view, who came off the ski lift alone? A girl that I really, really liked.
"Weren't you with ____, Ordale? I think I just saw her going down the hill."
"No, she was going to do her own thing. I'm riding dolo. Where's your little troupe?"
"They're scared. I'm going up to the top. You wanna come with me?"
"Why, yes I do."
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Dec 26th--We Made It!
I'm sleepy. If it pleases the court, today's post will be short. It is currently 12:10 on the morning of December 26th. Operation "Don't Go Broke" was a success. This was my daughter's third Christmas and we made it through without spending more than $100.
The actual retail price of this Showcase.........$88.74! They really ought to let me host The Price Is Right: Recession Wars.
I turned this place into a Christmas wonderland. Lights on the window, a ribbon on the door and, with the attitude of "Go big or go home," I even bought a tree skirt. You can't tell me nothing.
And about 24 hours ago, my day began with us wrapping presents. Then I woke up to my daughter jumping on my spine. The highlight of the morning was convincing her that the gift wrap wasn't the actual present. Note to self: Give her a roll of gift wrap next year.
Finally, my wife cooked a very delicious dinner that we ate at 2:45 because we were starving. We watched some stuff to free up space on the DVR and I spent the next two hours playing Ski Safari on my phone.
Tomorrow the North Pole gets foreclosed and the pre-lit tree, lights and decorations will spread holiday cheer out by the dumpster. We will then prepare for the next holiday that will be shoved down our throats. It's December 26th so it's time for the Valentine's Day ads: "Choose your fate: Every kiss can begin with K or every divorce petition can begin with 'It's the thought that counts.'"
- A nice pre-lit tree
- Decorations by Le Dollar Store
- Minnie Mouse folding table and chair set
- Two angry bird dolls
- Minnie Mouse doll
- Plush penguin
- Four puzzles
The actual retail price of this Showcase.........$88.74! They really ought to let me host The Price Is Right: Recession Wars.
I turned this place into a Christmas wonderland. Lights on the window, a ribbon on the door and, with the attitude of "Go big or go home," I even bought a tree skirt. You can't tell me nothing.
And about 24 hours ago, my day began with us wrapping presents. Then I woke up to my daughter jumping on my spine. The highlight of the morning was convincing her that the gift wrap wasn't the actual present. Note to self: Give her a roll of gift wrap next year.
Finally, my wife cooked a very delicious dinner that we ate at 2:45 because we were starving. We watched some stuff to free up space on the DVR and I spent the next two hours playing Ski Safari on my phone.
Tomorrow the North Pole gets foreclosed and the pre-lit tree, lights and decorations will spread holiday cheer out by the dumpster. We will then prepare for the next holiday that will be shoved down our throats. It's December 26th so it's time for the Valentine's Day ads: "Choose your fate: Every kiss can begin with K or every divorce petition can begin with 'It's the thought that counts.'"
Monday, December 24, 2012
Santa Propaganda
Someone posted a status on Facebook about their kid seeing them with one of their unwrapped presents before Christmas. She did what any self respecting parent would do. She lied. In that same vein, here are the top ten lies people told me to keep the Santa thing going. (In no particular order)
1. (My Mother) I know that you already mailed your list to Santa, but he called me at work and said that he didn't get it. He told me to tell you to write another one and give it to me and I"ll take it to him now.
2. (My Mother) Yeah I'm going to the movies but you can't come with me. I'm supposed to meet Santa Claus again and show him your report card. He comes when you're asleep, because any child that sees Santa is banned from getting presents for the rest of their life. If you go with me, you won't be able to get presents ever again.
3. (My Mother) You saw what in the closet? Oh no, that's not yours. Santa Claus ran out of room in his shop and asked some parents to hold on to some toys for him, but if anybody opens or plays with those toys, then he'll punish them by not bringing them anything this year. As a matter of fact, just pretend you didn't even see those. We don't want to risk it.
4. (My Mother) Oh, we don't need a chimney for Santa Claus to get in. You know how the maintenance people can get in without my key? Well, Santa Claus has his own key that opens everyone's door. Huh? Oh, yeah I take the chain off the door before I go to sleep on Christmas.
5. (My father) Santa Claus brought some stuff over to my house this morning. He said that he didn't see them in the back of the sleigh when he came to your house. They must've fallen out of the bag or something. I told him I'd bring them to you so that he could hurry up and get home before sunrise. The sleigh doesn't work in sunlight.
6. (Postal worker speaking to my elementary school class) I work directly with Santa Claus. He told me to tell you guys that you don't have to put stamps on the envelopes when you mail your lists. They get to Santa through elf magic.
7. (My mother) The reason you see different Santas in the mall is because the real Santa Claus is busy making sure the elves pack up the toys correctly. He sends different people out to represent him and report back. That's why you see black ones in the black malls and white ones downtown.
8. (My grandmother) Yeah, Jesus knows Santa Claus. They're friends. He used to bring Jesus presents when he was little.
9. (My grandmother) I guess he doesn't bring grown people presents because he figures that you ought to have a job and be able to buy your own presents when you get grown.
10. (My mother) ____ is about to come over here. You know ____ is bad as hell, so Santa Claus didn't bring him nothing. Don't go running your mouth talking about what Santa Claus gave you when they get over here either. Matter of fact, take all the stuff you don't want him to break and put it in my room under the bed. Get that cheap stuff that ____ gave you and pretend that's all you got. It came from the Dollar Store anyway so if he breaks it, I can go buy you another one.
1. (My Mother) I know that you already mailed your list to Santa, but he called me at work and said that he didn't get it. He told me to tell you to write another one and give it to me and I"ll take it to him now.
2. (My Mother) Yeah I'm going to the movies but you can't come with me. I'm supposed to meet Santa Claus again and show him your report card. He comes when you're asleep, because any child that sees Santa is banned from getting presents for the rest of their life. If you go with me, you won't be able to get presents ever again.
3. (My Mother) You saw what in the closet? Oh no, that's not yours. Santa Claus ran out of room in his shop and asked some parents to hold on to some toys for him, but if anybody opens or plays with those toys, then he'll punish them by not bringing them anything this year. As a matter of fact, just pretend you didn't even see those. We don't want to risk it.
4. (My Mother) Oh, we don't need a chimney for Santa Claus to get in. You know how the maintenance people can get in without my key? Well, Santa Claus has his own key that opens everyone's door. Huh? Oh, yeah I take the chain off the door before I go to sleep on Christmas.
5. (My father) Santa Claus brought some stuff over to my house this morning. He said that he didn't see them in the back of the sleigh when he came to your house. They must've fallen out of the bag or something. I told him I'd bring them to you so that he could hurry up and get home before sunrise. The sleigh doesn't work in sunlight.
6. (Postal worker speaking to my elementary school class) I work directly with Santa Claus. He told me to tell you guys that you don't have to put stamps on the envelopes when you mail your lists. They get to Santa through elf magic.
7. (My mother) The reason you see different Santas in the mall is because the real Santa Claus is busy making sure the elves pack up the toys correctly. He sends different people out to represent him and report back. That's why you see black ones in the black malls and white ones downtown.
8. (My grandmother) Yeah, Jesus knows Santa Claus. They're friends. He used to bring Jesus presents when he was little.
9. (My grandmother) I guess he doesn't bring grown people presents because he figures that you ought to have a job and be able to buy your own presents when you get grown.
10. (My mother) ____ is about to come over here. You know ____ is bad as hell, so Santa Claus didn't bring him nothing. Don't go running your mouth talking about what Santa Claus gave you when they get over here either. Matter of fact, take all the stuff you don't want him to break and put it in my room under the bed. Get that cheap stuff that ____ gave you and pretend that's all you got. It came from the Dollar Store anyway so if he breaks it, I can go buy you another one.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Dropout
Two of the biggest regrets of my life are high school and college. As smart as I am, I regret having nothing to show for it in the world of academia. High school was fraught with the issues going on outside of school that led to four years of on again, off again depression and anxiety. To a degree it was out of my control, but college was supposed to be different.
College was to be the place where I would have my academic resurrection, but instead I think I confused getting over my issues with running away from my problems. I went to college when I absolutely should not have been there and yet there I was wasting away my potential one Perkins Loan at a time.
It wasn’t a total wash. I found my wife and, equally important, I found myself and pulled him back from the brink of despair. Dramatic interpretations aside, I really did get my shit together and my body caught up to that old soul that everyone talked about. Still, something was amiss and it only got worse when I dropped out.
Between 2000 and 2005 I think I dropped out and came back about three times before finally throwing in the towel. The reasons are irrelevant although some are noble and some are just made up excuses that I told myself to feel better. But in 2008 it came crashing down.
I rented the movie Revolver and it planted an idea that I just couldn’t shake. The movie presents the protagonist’s ego as an external character, one that lies and conspires in order to protect his investment (the self). The ego goes undetected because it is often mistaken to be inner dialogue or the conscious mind. As the main character, Jake, put it:
“You’ll always find a good opponent in the last place you’d ever look.”
At that point in time I had a secure job that afforded a very comfortable lifestyle and every single day I went to work with my head hanging because I was unfulfilled and stressed out. But every time the idea of going back to school crept in it was quickly dashed by this defiant idea that I was somehow taking the road less traveled and proving something by succeeding in spite of not having a degree.
This new idea that perhaps the voice that I’d been listening to all along wasn’t actually looking out for me, but trying to protect its investment made me question that decree. My subsequent research (Wikipedia) explained that the ego acts much like a sadistic overprotective parent. It shelters you from the truth often to your own detriment. But how could I be sure that it was ego and not just sound logic?
“Wherever you don’t want to go is where you will find him.”
I started exploring this idea by putting myself in situations that I’d normally avoid. Nothing life threatening. I don’t need an ego to tell me not to drink and drive or jump out into traffic. But I toyed with ideas and then tried to refute that sound logic. What’s so bad about going to school? So what if I choose to jump off this less traveled road? What I realized was that most, if not all, of those answers were rooted in the fear of humiliation or the fear of the unknown. It all boiled down to some derivative of insecurity, and here I was supposedly Mr. Self-Reliant who faced up to XYZ on his own and feared nothing. So what do I do?
“Use your perceived enemy to destroy your real enemy.”
I faced up to the thing that I “hated” most. I enrolled in school and when I found out that I’d basically have to start from scratch all hell broke loose. I was 26 then and there was no way in hell that I was gonna go through four more years of school when I was only one year away when I dropped out. I’d be 30 just getting a bachelor’s. All of my friends finished at 22 and some had their master’s by now. I recognized that to be ego right away, so I kept at it.
Over the last four years I’ve had heart surgery, my wife had a baby, my grandfather died and my grandmother had a heart attack. All of which are supposedly excellent reasons to leave school for a while, according to my advisor. If you throw in the whole “stay at home with the baby” thing, then I probably didn’t really have a chance in hell of finishing by 30.
But a funny thing happened about a week ago. I walked across a stage and three people shook my hand and gave me a diploma. Okay, that’s a lie. They handed me a diploma cover and inside was a letter that said, “Even though you have spent tens of thousands of dollars for this thing, we still haven’t figured out a way to at least give you an artist’s rendering of the actual degree. It’ll be in the mail sometime next month. First student loan bill to follow.”
I graduated from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro with a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration. Now if only I could go back to high school.
College was to be the place where I would have my academic resurrection, but instead I think I confused getting over my issues with running away from my problems. I went to college when I absolutely should not have been there and yet there I was wasting away my potential one Perkins Loan at a time.
It wasn’t a total wash. I found my wife and, equally important, I found myself and pulled him back from the brink of despair. Dramatic interpretations aside, I really did get my shit together and my body caught up to that old soul that everyone talked about. Still, something was amiss and it only got worse when I dropped out.
Between 2000 and 2005 I think I dropped out and came back about three times before finally throwing in the towel. The reasons are irrelevant although some are noble and some are just made up excuses that I told myself to feel better. But in 2008 it came crashing down.
I rented the movie Revolver and it planted an idea that I just couldn’t shake. The movie presents the protagonist’s ego as an external character, one that lies and conspires in order to protect his investment (the self). The ego goes undetected because it is often mistaken to be inner dialogue or the conscious mind. As the main character, Jake, put it:
“You’ll always find a good opponent in the last place you’d ever look.”
At that point in time I had a secure job that afforded a very comfortable lifestyle and every single day I went to work with my head hanging because I was unfulfilled and stressed out. But every time the idea of going back to school crept in it was quickly dashed by this defiant idea that I was somehow taking the road less traveled and proving something by succeeding in spite of not having a degree.
This new idea that perhaps the voice that I’d been listening to all along wasn’t actually looking out for me, but trying to protect its investment made me question that decree. My subsequent research (Wikipedia) explained that the ego acts much like a sadistic overprotective parent. It shelters you from the truth often to your own detriment. But how could I be sure that it was ego and not just sound logic?
“Wherever you don’t want to go is where you will find him.”
I started exploring this idea by putting myself in situations that I’d normally avoid. Nothing life threatening. I don’t need an ego to tell me not to drink and drive or jump out into traffic. But I toyed with ideas and then tried to refute that sound logic. What’s so bad about going to school? So what if I choose to jump off this less traveled road? What I realized was that most, if not all, of those answers were rooted in the fear of humiliation or the fear of the unknown. It all boiled down to some derivative of insecurity, and here I was supposedly Mr. Self-Reliant who faced up to XYZ on his own and feared nothing. So what do I do?
“Use your perceived enemy to destroy your real enemy.”
I faced up to the thing that I “hated” most. I enrolled in school and when I found out that I’d basically have to start from scratch all hell broke loose. I was 26 then and there was no way in hell that I was gonna go through four more years of school when I was only one year away when I dropped out. I’d be 30 just getting a bachelor’s. All of my friends finished at 22 and some had their master’s by now. I recognized that to be ego right away, so I kept at it.
Over the last four years I’ve had heart surgery, my wife had a baby, my grandfather died and my grandmother had a heart attack. All of which are supposedly excellent reasons to leave school for a while, according to my advisor. If you throw in the whole “stay at home with the baby” thing, then I probably didn’t really have a chance in hell of finishing by 30.
But a funny thing happened about a week ago. I walked across a stage and three people shook my hand and gave me a diploma. Okay, that’s a lie. They handed me a diploma cover and inside was a letter that said, “Even though you have spent tens of thousands of dollars for this thing, we still haven’t figured out a way to at least give you an artist’s rendering of the actual degree. It’ll be in the mail sometime next month. First student loan bill to follow.”
I graduated from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro with a Bachelor of Science in Business Administration. Now if only I could go back to high school.
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