25 More Things

Just a couple of weeks ago, I wrote seven (little known?) things about myself here in response to Pistachio’s meme-tag post. Now, yet another version of the game has overtaken the internet, this time on Facebook. This variation calls for individuals so tagged to produce a list of “25 things” about themselves.

Robert Lanham, of salon.com, writes that he was originally irritated by this new meme, but has since changed his mind. He now says, “once you stop being annoyed you realize that, at its best, it’s one of the more compelling -- and, yes, even oddly inspiring -- wastes of time to hit the Web in years.”

I was eventually tagged, decided to participate, and posted a list on my Facebook page yesterday. Here is what I wrote, offered here in slightly edited form.

Here are the original Facebook rules (meant to be published at the top of your “25 things” list):

Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it’s because I want to know more about you. (To do this, go to “notes” under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people [in the right hand corner of the app] then click publish.)

Please note (about this post): caveat lector. It’s very doubtful that I could write “25 things” about myself that are superficial or humorous. You may find that they are uncomfortably revealing and/or mildly entertaining. If you’re going to go ahead and read more, brace yourself...

1. My ex sister-in-law once said that every time she heard the song “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” she thought of me.

2. Which was pretty perceptive, since I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression all my life.

3. I’ve never had what you would call a successful long-term relationship. I was married for ten years, but it wasn’t a good place for me to be. During the marriage, I became addicted to Valium (for over seven years). Just to numb me to the pain.

4. After the marriage, I became an alcoholic. (Well, sort of true. I was probably an alcoholic from the time I took my first drink...at about age 16.) My last drink, though, was on August 13, 1983. I’m very proud of my 25-plus years of sobriety.

5. When I was five years old and in kindergarten, I rode the bus to school every day. One day, I didn’t get off at my elementary school, but stayed on the bus until the end of the line. Just to see where it went. It resulted in one exasperated bus driver. And a phone call to my parents, of course.

6. Ms. Anderson and Ms. Howard (can’t remember now if they were “Miss” or “Mrs.”) were my second and third grade teachers, respectively. They were primarily responsible for nurturing and encouraging my early interests in reading and math.

7. My first girlfriend’s name was Betty T. This was in sixth grade. She had a twin brother. And their father was the superintendent of schools. I hear she’s still alive.

8. During the 2006-07 academic year, I had an insufferable bully as my supervisor. I’ve never been all that good around abusive people, and this time it almost killed me. The more I stood up for myself, the more abusive the relationship got and the more physically sick I became. To this day, I think I dramatically let down all the people who worked for me and believed I could be an agent of change.

9. I was ordered, by a physician, to take a month off work during January 2007. I was in so much physical pain at the time, I wished to die; I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life on disability. That I’m now recovering is a monumental testimonial to the resilience of the human body (and spirit).

10. If I could make a living from my writing and photography, I would. Those are my true passions.

11 Given my love of books and reading, though, I probably should have been a librarian. (It was a librarian who tagged me to write these 25 things.)

12. When I was in grade school, I was drew a cow with a purple crayon. Which was harshly judged by my teacher. Everyone knows that cows aren’t purple. I was devastated. I felt like I’d had the crap beaten out of me.

13. The most elusive thing in my life is love. Or at least being loved back.

14. What I want most is to be understood.

15. I was once told, with intense genuineness, “Jim, I’ve never met anyone like you!” Which was both exhilarating and dismaying.

16. I have an enlarged prostate (BPH; benign prostatic hyperplasia). I’ve had 2 to 3 blood tests every year for the last 12 years to monitor my PSA (prostate specific antigen, the screening test for prostate cancer). It keeps rising. I keep the data on an Excel spreadsheet, and furnish my urologist with a least-squares plot of the line every time I see him. My last number was slightly alarming.

17. I’m not nearly afraid of death as I am of dying slowly and painfully.

18. The two most favorite weekends of my life were (1) at a rented cabin, by Lincoln City on the Oregon coast, during one Christmas, with J; and (2) at a borrowed cabin, north of Florence on the Oregon coast, one spring, with C.

19. As comfortable as I am living in the Bay Area, I am homesick for Oregon every single day.

20. I will never be a parent in this lifetime. If I had had kids, though, I couldn’t have done better than T, B, and R. Three of my favorite people on earth.

21. I would do anything for T, B or R. Anything. All they would ever need to do is ask.

22. Same goes for my good friend V.

23. I have written a [this] blog for over three years and never really developed a readership. Those that once read, have stopped. Interesting that I persist. Crazy, perhaps.

24. I’m a Macintosh person who has owned and used Windows machines for years.

25. I taught myself HTML and developed a website, in 1993, before most people had ever heard of “the web.”

26. If I had more energy, I’d seek to be a college president. I’d be excellent.

27. I’ve “dated” through the personal ads for years. My profiles have always been totally honest. And almost every woman I’ve met this way has engaged in some kind of false advertising in one way or another. (The most common behavior: lying about age.)

28. I was once told by a woman that I am such an intense listener, so “present,” that it’s scary: that this quality likely chases potential female partners away.

29. I love long, deep conversations, in person, preferably with a significant other. Yet, here I sit alone in Starbucks writing about myself for my Facebook page.

30. I’m pretty tired of living in pain every day.

31. I didn’t censor myself much here. If you read this far, well, how did you DO that?

32. It seems I couldn’t stop at 25. But I’ll do that now.

Soundtrack Suggestion

If you knew that you would die today
Saw the face of god and love
Would you change? 

If you knew that love can break your heart
When you’re down so low that you cannot fall
Would you change?

If you knew that you would be alone
Knowing right, being wrong,
Would you change?

If you knew that you would find a truth
That would bring a pain that can’t be soothed
Would you change?

(“Change” – Tracy Chapman)

Update on February 13, 2009:

My librarian friend (mentioned in #11) wrote me to ask if I’d ever heard of the (1972) book I Saw a Purple Cow: And 100 Other Recipes for Learning. (In reference to #12.) The answer: “no.”

It’s a kids’ book, but I was intrigued. So, to provide further evidence that anything you can think of is available on the internet, I found and ordered a copy. It arrived today. For some reason, I just had to have it.

Just Seven More Things

Here’s my response to “Pistachio’s” post, published yesterday, challenging us all to a game of “meme tag.”

The instructions for this blogging exercise are...

● Republish these rules.
● Link to your original tagger(s) and list these rules in your post.
● Share seven (preferably not-well-known) facts about yourself in the post.
● Tag seven people at the end of your post by leaving their names and the links to their blogs.
● Let them know they’ve been tagged.

The problem for me in playing this game is that I’m not sure what I could possibly disclose here that would be more revealing than stuff I’ve already written about. Plus, I’m pretty reluctant to actually “tag” somebody at the end. But, here goes anyway...

1. I had blond hair for the first few years of my life. I think I really was meant to be a California surfer dude, but things just never turned out that way since I was born in the Midwest. I moved to the Golden State way too late.

2. My first job was as a paperboy for the Eau Claire Leader-Telegram (I had a route in Rice Lake, Wisconsin). I absolutely hated the job during the dark, sub-zero mornings of northern Wisconsin winters. My second job was as a shelf-stocker and box-boy at a local grocery store. I still have the box cutter I was issued at that job.

3. My first “publication” was in the same Leader-Telegram, a letter to the editor, appearing on May 4, 1970...the same day as the massacre of four students at Kent State University. It was written to express my outrage over President Nixon’s decision to expand the Vietnam war with the invasion of Cambodia. Before graduating later that month, I boycotted classes and was part of the largest demonstration in the college’s (University of Wisconsin – Eau Claire) history. I wore an arm-band over my graduation gown in protest of the war.

4. I was married for ten years, in my twenties. We didn’t have kids, just two Siamese cats named “Jude” and “Jo-Jo.” I haven’t seen or talked to her in over 25 years.

5. I went to parties for a living for several years of my life...back in the late 70s and early 80s. Well, really, I was called an “event photographer,” but that just meant I went to fraternity and sorority functions all the time: sometimes every day of the week. Looking back, it was a pretty bizarre life (and lifestyle). In the end, I just never made it as a “starving artist.”

6. At age 37, I lived with a 23-year-old woman for about three months. The relationship fell apart quickly. At one point I mentioned “Woodstock.” She thought I was talking about a pizza joint.

7. A married woman half my age who lives in another state calls me her soul-mate. And vice versa. (No, it’s not Pistachio.)

8. While having breakfast at Noah’s Bagels this morning, I heard “Bubbly” by Colbie Caillat playing in the background. I just love this song. I almost always am on the verge of tears when I hear it. It’s just one of those emotional kind of tunes for me.

(Ooops! That makes eight!) Anyway: The End. (I’m not going to single out any other blogger(s) for this challenge. But, please, if you take me up on it because you’ve read this post, let me know!)

Soundtrack Suggestion

I’ve been awake for a while now
you’ve got me feelin like a child now
cause every time I see your bubbly face
I get the tinglies in a silly place

It starts in my toes
and I crinkle my nose
where ever it goes I always know
that you make me smile
please stay for a while now
just take your time
where ever you go

Where ever, where ever, where ever you go
Where ever, where ever, where ever you go
Where ever you go, I’ll always know
Cause you make me smile here, just for a while

(“Bubbly” – Colbie Caillat)

Change

It’s time for a change. Today is the day! Inauguration 2009! 

Homesickness

homesick (hōm′-sik): longing for home and family while absent from them

The little lady at the left, Grace, shown here at five months, just had her fifth birthday on January 9. She lives in Oregon, both near and impossibly distant at the same time. I’ve known Grace since she was six hours old, the only human being on the planet I’ve ever met so early in life.

Shortly after her birth, I was in the hospital room with Grace, her parents, and her grandmother. They asked, “do you want to hold her, Jim?”

“Uh. OK.” (I said nervously.)

And, then, in my arms, just like that, the bond I had felt with the mother and grandmother, was extended to this new little one as well.

I assume there was a birthday party for her fifth. I wasn’t there. And, there’s been this feeling, this knot in my stomach, this emptiness, lately. A feeling borne from being absent. A longing for familiar places and people.

Grace, her mother, and her grandmother, were all part of the group in Oregon that had referred to me as “family.” Although life and relationship with “C,” the grandmother, were fraught with difficulty, the closeness and inclusion I experienced was an extremely significant element of my life for a decade. And, I had “adopted” (in my heart), C’s three children and two grandchildren.

For the most part, that all disappeared right after I moved to California.

America is about to embark on a new journey. Barack Obama will be inaugurated tomorrow and an overwhelming sense of hope and optimism prevails, even in these times of deep economic despair.

And while the rest of the country celebrates, I am ailing with melancholy. I would love to be home for this occasion.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Homeward bound
I wish I was
Homeward bound
Home, where my thoughts escaping
Home, where my musics playing
Home, where my love lies waiting
Silently for me

(“Homeward Bound” – Simon & Garfunkel)

Still the Monk

I’ve been thinking, in recent days, that it’s possible I might have to relinquish my well-earned, and entirely appropriate, moniker of “TechnoMonk.” As you may recall (or likely not), the name was given to me by “C” in recognition of my propensity for always acquiring the latest and greatest technology toys – and my concomitant inclination toward Spartan furnishings in the rest of my life. Probably the most notable of my minimalist tendencies has been the practice of sleeping on a futon. And not only have I slept on one for a very long time, it’s been placed on the floor in my various bedrooms – giving those spaces a perpetually-bare, “monkish” appearance.

Well, all that is about to change. I bought a new mattress/box-spring set that is scheduled to be delivered next weekend. In terms of the events of my life (and if you don’t count all the job changes and moves in recent times), this act is practically revolutionary.

I say this because this is something that I’ve put off doing for years and years. Well, truth be told: decades. I am admitting here to unhealthy, counter-productive behavior, and perhaps even a totally neurotic tendency, of delaying a purchase that I’ve long suspected would be good for me.

So, what’s the back story here?

Well, I was divorced in 1978. Yes, very long ago. A much different time. Jimmy Carter was president, for crying out loud. When we were married, “M” and I had a wonderful queen-sized bed, made of teak. We used a foam mattress, which gave us a very firm, supportive sleeping surface. And it was a beautiful piece of furniture.

I left that teak bed behind when I left the marriage. I subsequently moved into an apartment with practically no furnishings. I spent the first couple weeks sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor – before finally purchasing a foam mattress (that I also kept on the floor). Even though I had no immediate plans to be in a relationship again, I thought, even back then, that purchasing a “real bed” could wait...that I could buy another one, eventually, with another partner.

In my (much to my surprise) perpetually-single state, though, the foam mattress lasted for years. Finally, a year after I moved to Indiana, in 1991, I replaced the foam with a new futon. Again, I placed this bed on the floor. Despite occasional recommendations, over the years, from chiropractors and other health-care practitioners, that I find a more suitable sleeping surface, I persisted. I was always thinking that “the one” was right around the corner...and no sooner would I buy a bed that it would be the wrong one for “us.”

Well, here I am over 31 years later. (Holy crap, how did this happen?) I’ve been sleeping on the floor for three-plus decades. Despite, at one point, being close to having all that change. In early 1998, I suggested to “C” that I was thinking about buying a new bed (to make her visits to my place more accommodating). The huge negative reaction to that idea on her part was totally shocking...and I should have known right there that this was not a relationship with long-term prospects. Ah, all the missed clues!

Yes, and even our last night together involved a spat that involved rejection of both me as well as the futon we were on. The truly bizarre admission that I have to make here in this essay, is that after that last night together, I kept the futon on the floor in the bedroom, but I spent approximately the next five years sleeping on the sofa: so much did I hate the site, the futon, of our final staking-out-of-positions...that led to the end of us as a couple. I have never admitted this to anyone. Well, until y’all, right now.

So, here I am, almost ten years past that point...finally making steps to take care of myself: to no longer punish myself by sleeping on an inappropriate surface, or banishing myself to the sofa to avoid negative memories of “the end.”

I have made great strides in improving my chronic pain issues in the last year. There is still progress to made, though. And I suspect that sleeping on a real bed will make a difference.

Though this may all put my “TechnoMonk” reputation at stake, I’m willing. And eager. To be healthier.

But still “the monk.”