Mornings, and airports

Ugh, mornings are getting rigorous.

Even as I type, I am wolfing down oatmeal and looking at eggs that will also be consumed at a quick pace. I've got laundry in the dryer that wants folding. I got started early so all I have to do is dress and all the other things I have to do before leaving. I tried to get in here to commune with my blog (it really does seem to make me happier), and I have so little time now to do it.

Once I started the new job, I knew ahead of time that the schedule change would present itself in a way that made morning time seem longer than it is, just because being up and moving with purpose at that time was a new event, and the effect would be transitory. Transitory has arrived. I gotta leave in not very long at all.

I still dream of Paris. I don't have much time to do it, but when I can, it gives my brain a pleasant place to reside, to imagine. I had a delicious flashback of walking through an airport, on my way to Paris. What a great feeling that was, in retrospect. Just the bigness of the buildings; the low-level stress "Am I on-time? Yes? Good..." repeat 30 seconds later, constant temporal vigilance); the inundation of other people and yet near-privacy, because they don't know or care what you're doing; and the occasional uniform to either help you along your way, or more prevalent these days, scowl and scream at people who don't line up quickly enough. 12 hours on a plane still sucks, but is worth every minute at the end.

I hope I have the wherewithal to enjoy the airport next time.

Paris, this spring?

I have good reason to hope that I can go back to Paris again, some time this spring. And so I am allowing myself to dream about it again; not that I ever resist "les reves" too feistily, in any event.

I should see when Rick Steves will next publish the latest 2015 Paris book. (Ooh, their next edition comes out this month!  Yeee!)

I should consider day trips outside of Paris. Or longer trips not in Paris. Or trips outside of France, even. In a very real sense, the sun rises and sets for me in Paris. But in other real senses, of course it does not.

Paris, France has captured my heart's attention quite dominantly, but I know there are other countries, cultures and people to be discovered, explored and enjoyed. I wonder if I will see wisdom in selecting one of them instead, by the time I put my money down.

I ponder it occasionally.

One thing I would like to do better than I ever have before is to connect with people abroad. And it troubles me when I speak this goal aloud and people look at me funny. Is it so incredible that I might want to have conversations and make contacts in another place? Am I the weird one in this exchange? Am I just not expressing my desire correctly?

I feel like my expectations are fairly realistic, at least for someone who wants to do something they haven't tried before. And yet many people I've mentioned it to, online or in person, get that "back away and don't make eye contact" vibe going when I mention it.

I admit some naivete: on my last trip I chatted up a restaurant worker and the front desk guy at my hotel, and exchanged email addresses with them. I sent a few emails after my 2010 trip, of course unanswered. My naivete was in being surprised at this. I should have been slightly more cynical in my expectations. Imagining being a service worker in a major city, it's easy to foresee not giving two shits about the customers on a personal level, beyond serving them as well as you can, day-to-day. And they were kind and helpful in that regard, I am glad of that.

I guess it reaches back to my own desire to connect in general. I thought I was rid of this burdensome pull, but as my last trip to Paris taught me, I am not. Paris always seems to have something to teach me.

I shake my head when I follow these thoughts into their tunnels, to draw my awareness back to open ground. Only so much progress can be made at a time, spelunking these possibilities and the warrens in which they reside.

Speaking of tunnels - did I mention I want to see the catacombs of Paris on my next trip? I have started reading the most wonderful book, "Parisians." It artfully tells stories, old and new, of residents of Paris form their point of view in history. I have read the first few chapters, including perspectives from Napoleon, an underground engineer (whose name escapes me at the moment, and escapes most common history, according to the book's narration), and the doomed flight from the royal grounds by Louis and Marie Antoinette. They sure made it sound like Marie Antoinette's spoiled bungling cost the entire campaign its success. But they are just the types of stories that bring life to places and times in such an iconic city. I have also enjoyed "Is Paris Burning?" a historical account told in a dramatic and narrative style. I like this style much better than some dull and dry accounts I have tried to read. Non-fiction is a lot more fun and digestible when it dresses in a few of the trappings of fiction.

Another item that has enhanced my long-distance mooning over the City of Lights is Google Earth. The ability to zoom digitally over the city (with the "3D Building" option on, of course!) makes something within me squeal with delight. Twirling the Eiffel Tower or Arc de Triomphe on the screen as if on your fingertip dazzles my little brain in a most wonderful way.

Will Michelle accompany me on my trip? Will James, our nephew? Will I go it solo and become my own hero for the year? Will we or I go somewhere unParisian? Will it all fall apart and remind me that tomorrow is promised to no one as it has in the past? It's all wide open at this point. It seems like anything is possible. I like that feeling.

Job life, in my head

Mornings are a lot busier these days. Coffee is still a necessity, and the time to drink it is a carefully guarded luxury.

Man, I hate the learning curve. Everybody knows all the ins and outs I'm trying to comprehend, and they watch as I stumble over the simplest details. Makes you feel like a fool. It ties directly into the stress center of my brain, and I'm building quite a case of anxiety over it. It is a challenge to route all this effort and concern somewhere, if not positive, at least not harmful. I get so frustrated not to be up to speed right away.

I'm a good worker and a natural helper. I hope I get on top of the technical specifics quickly and start spinning dog shit into gold. I like being a benefit, and this company seems nice enough; I'd like to show them what I can do.

What I really need to do is get control of how I view my job, my self, and my satisfaction level between the two. Right now my buttons become too easily pushed and I too quickly become pushed to the wall, in my head. I need some compartmentalization. I don't think most other people get this flustered and head right to DEFCON 5. In the past this trait has served me by allowing me to push harder and perform when I didn't want to. But older Me doesn't have the infrastructure anymore to burn oil to get through a problem; it doesn't feel like a struggle followed by a win anymore. It just feels like struggle. Bah.

My boss communicates and works in a way that presents a lot of chaos, and a demand that it get sorted out. I think I've described it this way before, but it feels like a bomb going off, with the expectation that one catch all the pieces. I had this feeling at the pool company I worked for, and it burned like acid for months, until I stumbled dumbly into each answer, little by little. It could have been so much less traumatic, but the training wasn't there. There is a similar dynamic at the current place, where the gulf between what I know and what they think I need to be taught is wide. I feel like it could be getting done better, and a smoother, more-productive start could be had.

Ah well. Such are the joys of life. At worst, I suppose, the hand will come to be placed on my shoulder, and the boss will announce "it's not working out..." There, that is the base of my fear, or at least it should be, and it's not so frightening. No, my stress is tied to something deeper in my brain, something murkier and less apparent than losing a recently-acquired job. I should find and cut this troublesome connection.

I tried meditating again this morning. I spent five minutes in a quiet room, focusing on my breath. I try it now and then, but I know that a constant, disciplined habit is the path to improvement there, as with so much in my undisciplined life. But it was good for what it was. I would love to reap the benefits of a more controlled brain. Wouldn't that be something!

I suppose it's one of the reasons I'm trying to stick with this blog again; it seems like I had more clarity or least a more-flexible mind back when I was blogging. As if this is a form of meditation itself. Anyway, I like doing it. But time is so limited these days...

Hoo

Hoo boy.

The new job is going fine, but it's an adjustment. I feel like the learning curve is too obtuse, but it always feels that way.

I am relearning one important thing: how valuable my time is! Not only in that I get paid to spend it somewhere, but also how little of it there is left before and after the workday. Hoo boy.

Good luck getting laundry, dishes, lawn care done. Eating, ironing work clothes, and what is this "recreation" again? I feel like I've heard of it before...

Gotta go...

Back on the chain gang

Well, I messed up and got employed again. It looks like a pretty good job, good but not great, like all the positions I end up into. A new place to hate and hope I never leave. People have a pretty dumb idea of how to live, and I can't help but join them until I figure out a better way.

Yesterday was my first day. It went pretty well, as far as I can tell.

I thought I had more to say about it, but it's slow in emerging. Plus, I feel my old familiar fears creeping back: do I say this, do I say that? I rarely set out to be provocative or hurtful, but left to my own devices I often find a way to say something someone wishes they didn't hear. Ah, it's good to be me.

I had a comedy adventure scheduled for tonight, supposed to go to Berkeley and see some public access television get made, but that's off. C'est la vie, mon ami.

I continue to push for an open mike opportunity nearby. I am in contact with one venue, and the owner seems to be swaying in indecisiveness. His default fallback is a callback: "Call me tomorrow," he says, every day this week. I don't want my impatience to spoil what could be a good thing, but chasing him is not my new hobby. We'll see who surrenders first. I am slightly proud of myself for blogging about the pursuit, which I've been wanting to do for a while.

All this also means that my already-somewhat-neglected video series on local comics is still on the back burner, but the front burner just got a whole lot bigger, so who knows when that will get done. I hope to make it a priority, stop being so precious about it, and just some stuff done and published before the lateness of the project becomes embarrassing in itself.

Finally, I continue to dream my dream of Paris. I hope and expect to return to the City of Lights this spring. Employment can only help, one would think.

Until next time, my friends.

Sick on my 43rd birthday

My birthday was last week.

Man, I had tons of fun stuff in my head I wanted to do: wine-soaked visits with friends, dinner out at a bistro nearby with Louisiana-, quasi-French-based food, comedy night out in a big city...

But the Monday before my little day, I came down with a stomach flu that kicked my ass right in its gut, and still lingers today. I tell you, I went down HARD. Fever, shakes, aches, and a diarrhea that made me feel like I had spent time drinking Mexican water with African mosquitoes. So, so painful. And it wouldn't quit! I have a hard time taking to bed, but I have learned that it is the only way.

I have this grudging urge to "tough" these things out, and to avoid taking pills as if they represent some sort of threat on their own. How backwards of me, especially considering the other things I put in my body on a daily basis, including sugar, salt, fat, pot, beer, etc. Yeah, it's a real temple.

So I've learned that the fastest way back to whistling through life is often dedicated rest, the careful application of over-the-counter pharmaceuticals and plenty of liquids.

Even so, this thing was tough to shake. It stomped right on through my birthday like it wasn't even there, and kept going, right up until yesterday when the clouds began to part. I am starting to feel like my old self again, although I still have a gnawing pain in the right side of my chubby gut and a cough that reminds me all is not quite right yet. But I can eat solid food again, and I don't want to cry when I go to the bathroom. These are good signs. For most of the week, I could barely withstand more than broth and a few crackers. To celebrate, I ate some spicy Mexican-style food my wife put together, because I am a slow learner.

I hate getting sick. I hate the randomness of it, catching it from a stranger I didn't want to meet, shaking his grubby, mucus-encrusted hand out of an outdated, forced social construct that suits no one's needs (and yet if I somehow refuse to shake hands, *I'm* the weirdo). And of course, I hate the illness itself, with its insidious effects, working to destroy (or at least sabotage) you from the inside out. Bah!

And yet there are always things to be thankful for. Being temporarily ill can help put a few new bricks in the wall of your immune system, or so I am led to believe. I did also enjoy on some level the chance to lay flat on my back for days at a time and root through television shows and Facebook updates, activities I am no stranger to but to which sickness gave me the unfettered and guilt-free access. I was often too sick to really indulge in these in any pleasant way, but still...

But the thing I have come to appreciate more is the break it gives my body and mind from the bad habits that I am otherwise nearly powerless to shake; the little contracts I have made between my body and my immediate surroundings that creep in and build up silently and incrementally, much like the cold symptoms themselves. Habits like overeating, drinking too frequently (although I have become very workmanlike in my ability to moderate the quantity) and ingesting the pot. These are things I would like to abate and rethink, but they acquire a momentum of their own and I struggle not to walk in the ruts I have so laboriously worn for myself. I have picked up these coping mechanisms along the way in life to deal with stresses and pains that crop up that can break something important within you, or at least threaten to. But when the pains subside, the mechanisms endure and remain. One of life's little tricks, sometimes a little cruel.

Having your body call these time-outs (in its shit-stained, painful way) is otherwise just the tonic that I need to break the cycle and let them go until the habits are no longer habitual. I can eat a normally-portioned meal, because I am no longer so recently "disciplined" to gorge; more so, I am grateful to contemplate solid food at all, so I appreciate it. I am not so programmed to reach for a beer because hey, it's noon, and by golly this life is worth "celebrating."

I am mindful that these habits can and will creep back in. I've done it before, being in a good place with these things, and watched myself slip back into their waiting, grody arms. But right now, I have at least got them on the other side of the door, and that is a great thing.

I suspect that I would be sharper without their daily influence. I like to think that one drink, one puff, one brownie does not a brain destroy. One of any of these does little real harm. But like waves crashing on a beach, I can easily imagine that one applied after another and another on a regular basis would eventually erode the most impregnable fortress. And my creative and mental fortresses aren't looking too impregnable these days. My game could certainly be tighter. There are projects and just little endeavors that lay untouched, and my motivation could be more robust. Great things lay out there, waiting simply to be picked up and smooshed and formed into something other people will somewhat appreciate.

...

Anyway, I think that is what I came to say. Have a good day out there.