It's funny how different generations view aging. Kids say how they can't wait to be older and able to make their own decisions. Older generations say that they wish they could go back and just have a little more time to have soaked it all in. My generation is just too busy to even have an opinion either way. We're at the stage now where when a birthday goes by we say, "Oh that's today? Okay." This process, of course, will repeat many times over until we get to the age where we'd just rather hide under the bed, rather than have our loved ones remind us that we're that much closer to the end. However up until very recently I was stuck in the child's mentality where time was simply an obstacle. Time separated me from where I was to where I wanted to be. Where a child would say, "It's only a month until Christmas, I'm going insane waiting," or "I can't wait for summer," I would say things like "I can't wait for tennis season to start," or "I am so ready to get done with this day." It's a normal wish for us in our lives where work sometimes weighs us down and we can't wait to get out of there or we really have something that we're looking forward to however it still adds up to the same result. What we're valuing is some obscure thing that is far ahead of us instead of what is right under our noses. We're basically wishing our lives away.
It was Sunday afternoon at the neighborhood park when it all of a sudden hit me. I watched my three year old discovering his first mud puddle in the center of a soccer field. He splased around in it for a good while, alternating between picking up handfuls of mud and throwing them aimlessly around only to try and wipe clean the remnants on his shirt or pants. I wanted that moment to slow down, not stop entirely because I was having too much fun laughing about not only his antics, but about how much trouble I was going to be in when I brought him home, covered from head to toe in mud. And when I say head to toe, I mean it was caked in his hair and cemented to the bottom of his shoes. It was the first time in years that I wanted to hold on to it as long as possible. When you get married, you can't wait to go on the honeymoon. When your kids are born, you can't wait for them to say their first words, or at least get out of the staying up all hours of the night crying. This was a moment that I didn't have to look forward to, it was happening right now and its result was worth more than any start of a tennis season and any end of a bad day combined. Any moment, with the exception of weddings and babies being born, that I had looked forward to in the past was all of a sudden trumped by a three-year old acting a fool in a 2 inch puddle of water mixed with dirt. Of course the fun at the park eventually ended and instead of wanting time to slow down because of enjoyment I wanted it to stop entirely because I could not explain, to my wife for the life of me, why we were trapsing across a newly mopped floor with mud all over us. But there's something to be said for that point in time where your split between wanting time to speed up and wanting to go back. At some point the personal goals don't matter, the need for validation doesn't matter and the moment for a great opportunity that you can't wait for can wait. It can wait because I'm helping my three-year old pull his wagon. It can wait because I'm out to dinner with my wife. It can wait because I'm busy making absolutely embarrasingly goofy faces at my five-month old just to coax a smile out of him.
One of my best friends once told me close to 16 years ago, "Don't wish your life away."
Anyone that knew me 16 years ago knows exactly who said it and why it is probably one of the most important pieces of advice I've ever gotten. At the time it wasn't exactly to easiest advice to take and it's probably why I chose to ignore it until I almost did.
That's about as deep as I go. I'll try to provide a laugh next time around.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Today I stopped trusting insects
Today was a day that I hoped would never come. A day in which a pact was broken and war was waged upon any tiny creature within reach of my foot. You see bugs and I have always had a mutual understanding, we've lived in harmony for thirty-four years without much provocation by one side or another. This said pact states that I will not step on you if you don't sting me, bite me or crawl into my clothing. There have been a few pit-falls in this pact - maybe one bug doesn't get the memo, gets a little antsy (no pun intended) and gets a little brave. Little instances like a mosquito bite or a bee sting here and there is totally cool because I can't tell you how many bugs I've ended up with on the windshield of my car. There's always going to be casualties even in peace time. But peace time is over and you my friend are on notice.
I know this sounds like the rantings and ravings of a madman. I have no delusion that I am making total sense as of this point, so let me give a little bit of background to explain my sudden descent into madness.
Since I moved to Texas some years ago I have often been told of a hidden insect "boogeyman". You see in Mississippi our boogeyman is the cockroach. It's in every house, it's disgusting and it hides around every corner or up in the corner, watching and waiting for an opportunity to fly in your hair and terroize you. They don't sting or bite, but could cause one to throw themselves out of window in a fit of terror. For the most part they are no a cause for concern. The Texas insect boogeyman is mean and crafty and armed. They are patient and cunning in ways that I cannot imagine and when they sting you, I've heard it hurts......very, very badly. They are the scorpion. When I first heard about them horrible thoughts came into my head of these big huge black scorpions that lived in the Sahara desert. Massive in size, they could never manage to hide under your refrigerator of within the crack of a wall. There was no way these scorpions could be a threat to someone as attentive and paranoid as myself. I lived with cockroaches in our house for 20-something years - the laws of nature state that you must be attentive and paranoid or be victimized. I was wrong on so many levels.
The scorpions that live in Texas are small, clear in color and able to hide anywhere even if they were wearing bells. You can imagine my surprise one early morning when I saw one for the first time. You know the saying "love at first sight". There is also another saying that goes "PHOBIA at first sight". From that first introduction my lifestyle changed. Every night of every spring summer and fall I checked my shoes, my clothes, my hair, every crevice of every nook and cranny I could think of. Once my wife and I moved into our house and were able to hire a monthly insect repellant business I relaxed. I trusted that my insect pact, coupled with the skilled technicians that were now protecting my house from insect invasion would keep me safe and sound. I made a mistake.
This evening a scorpion decided to declare war and invaded my territory. Sometime after dinner I went to the refrigerator to get some water and there he was. As soon as I saw him I stopped. My heart beat in my chest, like I had just witnessed some mythical creature like bigfoot or the loch ness monster. As soon as he saw me he didn't stop. He headed towards me. This was not normal insects of any kind are supposed to turn tail and run when they see a creature as big as myself. It was extremely troubling to see this thing coming for me. Not so much from a standpoint that I hoped it wouldn't sting me, but it disturbed me to know that this thing actually thought that it had a chance. Or even if the scorpion knew that he didn't have a chance he didn't seem to care. There is nothing more dangerous to me than a scorpion with small man's disease. Carefully and tactfully I squashed him. I didn't want to lead him on or give him false hope so I finished the standoff quickly.
I then went to the bedroom, got some pajama pants from off of the floor, put them on and got into bed. I revelled for a moment in my victory, having just taken down the equivalent of a childhood terror with ease. I felt big, I felt strong......I felt something brush against the hair on my right leg.
If you've ever actually moved your body at the speed of light you'll know that you're not so much moving faster, but time has slowed down. Between the time that the thought "DECOY" came into my head and the time that I ended up in my birthday suit screaming and running from the room I would say absolutely no act in the universe had enough time to happen. However to me I felt as if I had enough time to realize there was scorpion in my pants, know it was a scorpion in my pants and disrobe in such a fashion that would assure me the menace would not have an opportunity to strike. I can't remember exaclty how I did this but I'm sure it was a kodak moment.
I took me about 5 minutes to come to terms with what had just happened before I realized that even though I was safe and sound in another room of the house and on top of a chair....that was on top of a counter, there was still a scorpion in my bedroom that wanted revenge for his fallen comrade. After a few more minutes of my wife talking me down and convincing me that even though I never wanted to again, it was a necessary part of everyday life that I wear clothes, we went into the bedroom to hunt. It was nowhere to be found. I checked my clothes, which ended up much farther away than I thought I had the ability to throw. We checked the bed, the furniture, everywhere. We came up with nothing.
Maybe it was a phantom feeling, maybe the brush against my leg was just air, maybe there was no scorpion to begin with. It was relieving to know that I might not have ever been in danger, however that feeling soon turned to fear. Fear of the dreaded "what if". What if it was real and is hiding somewhere, waiting, angry, determined. Could we really take the chance? We had to keep looking. Almost an hour later it reared its ugly head and tail and creepy pincher things. I ran, my wife killed it and made a commitment from there on that I will take a Bush era approach to terrorism as it relates to insects. I will be proactive rather than reactive.
I know this sounds like the rantings and ravings of a madman. I have no delusion that I am making total sense as of this point, so let me give a little bit of background to explain my sudden descent into madness.
Since I moved to Texas some years ago I have often been told of a hidden insect "boogeyman". You see in Mississippi our boogeyman is the cockroach. It's in every house, it's disgusting and it hides around every corner or up in the corner, watching and waiting for an opportunity to fly in your hair and terroize you. They don't sting or bite, but could cause one to throw themselves out of window in a fit of terror. For the most part they are no a cause for concern. The Texas insect boogeyman is mean and crafty and armed. They are patient and cunning in ways that I cannot imagine and when they sting you, I've heard it hurts......very, very badly. They are the scorpion. When I first heard about them horrible thoughts came into my head of these big huge black scorpions that lived in the Sahara desert. Massive in size, they could never manage to hide under your refrigerator of within the crack of a wall. There was no way these scorpions could be a threat to someone as attentive and paranoid as myself. I lived with cockroaches in our house for 20-something years - the laws of nature state that you must be attentive and paranoid or be victimized. I was wrong on so many levels.
The scorpions that live in Texas are small, clear in color and able to hide anywhere even if they were wearing bells. You can imagine my surprise one early morning when I saw one for the first time. You know the saying "love at first sight". There is also another saying that goes "PHOBIA at first sight". From that first introduction my lifestyle changed. Every night of every spring summer and fall I checked my shoes, my clothes, my hair, every crevice of every nook and cranny I could think of. Once my wife and I moved into our house and were able to hire a monthly insect repellant business I relaxed. I trusted that my insect pact, coupled with the skilled technicians that were now protecting my house from insect invasion would keep me safe and sound. I made a mistake.
This evening a scorpion decided to declare war and invaded my territory. Sometime after dinner I went to the refrigerator to get some water and there he was. As soon as I saw him I stopped. My heart beat in my chest, like I had just witnessed some mythical creature like bigfoot or the loch ness monster. As soon as he saw me he didn't stop. He headed towards me. This was not normal insects of any kind are supposed to turn tail and run when they see a creature as big as myself. It was extremely troubling to see this thing coming for me. Not so much from a standpoint that I hoped it wouldn't sting me, but it disturbed me to know that this thing actually thought that it had a chance. Or even if the scorpion knew that he didn't have a chance he didn't seem to care. There is nothing more dangerous to me than a scorpion with small man's disease. Carefully and tactfully I squashed him. I didn't want to lead him on or give him false hope so I finished the standoff quickly.
I then went to the bedroom, got some pajama pants from off of the floor, put them on and got into bed. I revelled for a moment in my victory, having just taken down the equivalent of a childhood terror with ease. I felt big, I felt strong......I felt something brush against the hair on my right leg.
If you've ever actually moved your body at the speed of light you'll know that you're not so much moving faster, but time has slowed down. Between the time that the thought "DECOY" came into my head and the time that I ended up in my birthday suit screaming and running from the room I would say absolutely no act in the universe had enough time to happen. However to me I felt as if I had enough time to realize there was scorpion in my pants, know it was a scorpion in my pants and disrobe in such a fashion that would assure me the menace would not have an opportunity to strike. I can't remember exaclty how I did this but I'm sure it was a kodak moment.
I took me about 5 minutes to come to terms with what had just happened before I realized that even though I was safe and sound in another room of the house and on top of a chair....that was on top of a counter, there was still a scorpion in my bedroom that wanted revenge for his fallen comrade. After a few more minutes of my wife talking me down and convincing me that even though I never wanted to again, it was a necessary part of everyday life that I wear clothes, we went into the bedroom to hunt. It was nowhere to be found. I checked my clothes, which ended up much farther away than I thought I had the ability to throw. We checked the bed, the furniture, everywhere. We came up with nothing.
Maybe it was a phantom feeling, maybe the brush against my leg was just air, maybe there was no scorpion to begin with. It was relieving to know that I might not have ever been in danger, however that feeling soon turned to fear. Fear of the dreaded "what if". What if it was real and is hiding somewhere, waiting, angry, determined. Could we really take the chance? We had to keep looking. Almost an hour later it reared its ugly head and tail and creepy pincher things. I ran, my wife killed it and made a commitment from there on that I will take a Bush era approach to terrorism as it relates to insects. I will be proactive rather than reactive.
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Today I reflected on my first skiing experience
Being winter and all I felt it was only appropriate to share with you my rocky relationship with snow and skiing. It probably wouldn't suprise most to know that I was never really introduced to the icy horror that is skiing until I was in college. In fact a snow sighting in Mississippi was about as rare and fairy taled as a Bigfoot sighting, which in our area was much more likely to happen. Regardless, my experience with skiing was nonexistent and combined with my natural clumsiness created the perfect circumstance for physical comedy at its best.
Begrudgingly during a spring break I joined some friends in Park City, UT for a skiing trip. Wasn't my idea but I was very anxious to give skiing a try after hearing about the wonder and bewilderment that people experienced on the slopes. It seemed like every person I talked to was convinced at how easy skiing was and there were never any warning signs. They would tell tales of how they braved the bunny slopes on day one and then by the end of day 2 had mastered the same tracks that professionals trained on in preparation for the winter olympics. Looking back I really wished that there would have been some warning sign. I would have taken any dissenting opinion, from a kind person telling me that I was an idiot for trying to take a skiing trip to the travel agent happily giving me and my friends our vacation packages and then when everyone's back was turned she would stare directly into my eyes and shake her head in warning.
Long story short as soon as we arrived in Park City we immediately rented our skis and hit the slopes. While most of our group went about their own way one of my friends decided that he would stay behind and give me a crash course (no pun intended) in skiing. He did this for two reasons: One-he was a very nice guy: Two I had made it known to everyone that I believed all that you had to do in order to be succesful in skiing was to point your skis directly downhill and manage to keep your balance throughout your journey from the top of the hill to the bottom. As a result of me verbalizing this stupidity my friend believed, for good reason, that I was a danger to myself and others.
Now instead of taking an "Intro to skiing" class from a certified instructor, my friend had it in his head that he knew as much as any professionally certified teacher ever would because he had been skiing more than twice in his life. Now because he had survived his skiing experiences without breaking a limb or running into a tree I believed him. "What's the worst that could happen?" I thought to myself as I slid from my seat on the lift and collapsed immediately upon setting my skis on the ground.
Having collapsed directly under my lift chair I had in turn prompted the lift operator to stop the entire line of carts below me, fearing that I would be trampled by the onslaught of eager skiers ascending to the top of the slope. This consequently led to a chorus of jeers and boos being directed right at me as I struggled to pull myself up and regain my balance. Realizing the need to get my "youknowwhat" out of the way, I decided that the best way for me to do so was to do nothing at all. I stood as still and motionless as I possibly could and whispered to my friend directly beside me.
"Push me,"
I leaned forward like a downhill olympian and braced for the soft push that would gently propel me forward and out of the path of ski lift currently being held in limbo. I'm not entirely sure if my friend believed that my request was an invitation to enact vengeance for something that I had done in years past or he thought to myself "why stop at just getting out of the way of the ski lift?" Whatever my expectation was, what transpired was a violent shove that pretty much turned me into a projectile aimed towards a large group of women and children. After tearing through the terrified crowd and leaving no bodies in my wake I ended up on my back again.
"At least I cleared the lift," I thought to myself as I reached out for a small metal pole to pull myself up on. Attempting to pull myself up I immediately felt the pole collapse under my weight and suddenly realized that it was not entirely intended for what I was using it for. What I had unintentionally pushed down on was the emergency stop lever to the ski lift.
Cue the boos and jeers.
Begrudgingly during a spring break I joined some friends in Park City, UT for a skiing trip. Wasn't my idea but I was very anxious to give skiing a try after hearing about the wonder and bewilderment that people experienced on the slopes. It seemed like every person I talked to was convinced at how easy skiing was and there were never any warning signs. They would tell tales of how they braved the bunny slopes on day one and then by the end of day 2 had mastered the same tracks that professionals trained on in preparation for the winter olympics. Looking back I really wished that there would have been some warning sign. I would have taken any dissenting opinion, from a kind person telling me that I was an idiot for trying to take a skiing trip to the travel agent happily giving me and my friends our vacation packages and then when everyone's back was turned she would stare directly into my eyes and shake her head in warning.
Long story short as soon as we arrived in Park City we immediately rented our skis and hit the slopes. While most of our group went about their own way one of my friends decided that he would stay behind and give me a crash course (no pun intended) in skiing. He did this for two reasons: One-he was a very nice guy: Two I had made it known to everyone that I believed all that you had to do in order to be succesful in skiing was to point your skis directly downhill and manage to keep your balance throughout your journey from the top of the hill to the bottom. As a result of me verbalizing this stupidity my friend believed, for good reason, that I was a danger to myself and others.
Now instead of taking an "Intro to skiing" class from a certified instructor, my friend had it in his head that he knew as much as any professionally certified teacher ever would because he had been skiing more than twice in his life. Now because he had survived his skiing experiences without breaking a limb or running into a tree I believed him. "What's the worst that could happen?" I thought to myself as I slid from my seat on the lift and collapsed immediately upon setting my skis on the ground.
Having collapsed directly under my lift chair I had in turn prompted the lift operator to stop the entire line of carts below me, fearing that I would be trampled by the onslaught of eager skiers ascending to the top of the slope. This consequently led to a chorus of jeers and boos being directed right at me as I struggled to pull myself up and regain my balance. Realizing the need to get my "youknowwhat" out of the way, I decided that the best way for me to do so was to do nothing at all. I stood as still and motionless as I possibly could and whispered to my friend directly beside me.
"Push me,"
I leaned forward like a downhill olympian and braced for the soft push that would gently propel me forward and out of the path of ski lift currently being held in limbo. I'm not entirely sure if my friend believed that my request was an invitation to enact vengeance for something that I had done in years past or he thought to myself "why stop at just getting out of the way of the ski lift?" Whatever my expectation was, what transpired was a violent shove that pretty much turned me into a projectile aimed towards a large group of women and children. After tearing through the terrified crowd and leaving no bodies in my wake I ended up on my back again.
"At least I cleared the lift," I thought to myself as I reached out for a small metal pole to pull myself up on. Attempting to pull myself up I immediately felt the pole collapse under my weight and suddenly realized that it was not entirely intended for what I was using it for. What I had unintentionally pushed down on was the emergency stop lever to the ski lift.
Cue the boos and jeers.
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