#rock.bottom.

clover: the photo shoot

the 15th week

This is the last weekly update for a while. Not only are they mundane (I told Andy I can pretty much copy & paste these things week-to-week), but the payoff isn't worth it. I've found that when I journal, I tend to hold back, to paint things up as they aren't, or to somehow write in such a way that a reader won't make judgments about me. The very act of transcribing daily journals onto the blog changes the whole point of the journals: to express myself and get things off my chest. So from here-on-out there won't be any concurrent weekly updates: I do plan on continuing on with the 16th week and further, but at a point in time far removed. Obviously, since these weekly updates have been the bulk of the blog for a while now, I'm going to have to be more original and forthcoming in blog posts. We'll see what that looks like.

Behold my ineptitude at IPhone.

Monday. Rain: so much rain. Blake took me to work given my car situation, and I got a ride home from Sarah: she lives only like four streets away. Ams came over to jump my car, but that didn't work, so I had AAA tow it to the garage. The evening was spent at the Loth House watching The Walking Dead with Blake & Traci, John & Brandy, Amos & Isaac, and Andy & Ams. Such a good crew.

Tuesday. I dreamed that Jessica C. and I hooked up during a zombie apocalypse. I used to dream about her all the time, but I haven't for like two years, so it caught me by surprise. Blake took me to work and Sarah ferried me home. I fixed baked chicken and potatoes for dinner and  went to the Happy Hollow before bed: a few shots, some O.J., and reading about The French & Indian War.

The Last Day of Winter. Ams took me to work. It was such an INSANE day: Carew closed Tuesday (Carew Tower's a ghost town and Bob didn't want to renew another 5-year lease), so we've gotten a lot of their customers, and we had to make room for a TON of leftover product, and space is already more than limited. Sarah took me to the garage from work. They thought the problem was the battery and sent me to Auto Zone. Apparently the battery I got back in January wasn't the right one. I had the warranty, so I switched it out for the right one, and it's snug and working beautifully! Final cost: $10. And I had $800 set aside for it! I drove down Red Bank and got my license plate renewed, cruised around thanking God that all this shit's worked out.

The First Day of Spring. It was twenty degrees out this morning, and the wind tunnel downtown stung against my face. At least my car's back to normal! Work was crazy, and by the time I got home around 3:00 all I wanted to do was sleep. Instead I watched The West Wing and Bill Maher's Religulous. You know when the first scene is him clubbing truck drivers at a trucker church that it's just another propaganda film against organized religion: lots of fluff, some witty quips, and empty arguments. I'd love to see him go toe-to-toe with John Weatherly, Dan Dyke, or N.T. Wright. He'd dig himself a hole and find him stuck there. But I must say, I was buckled over with laughter several times. Bill Maher's a pretty funny guy. I spent the evening at Amos' with Isaac & Frank: we watched some Swamp People and devoured Frank's fantastic crockpot chili.

Friday. OMG, TGIF!! But seriously. This week has been HELL. The store's a hot mess with backup stock and shit hauled over from 441. I couldn't have been happier leaving that place and stepping into Vitamin D. It's a good feeling. I crashed for a couple hours when I got home, fixed Mac & Cheese for dinner, and then headed over to the Loth House: beer & poker with John & Brandy, Amos & Ams.

Saturday. I grabbed McDonald's for breakfast and spent much of the day studying The French & Indian War interspersed with episodes of The West Wing (I finished Season Six). I came down with a nasty headache and spent the evening on the sofa before calling it a night rather early.

Sunday. I woke around 7:30 and went to The Anchor for coffee and journaling before catching the early service at U.C.C. I picked up Dusmesh for lunch, ran into Andy & Josh T. there, and I spent the afternoon watching The West Wing. After a second trip to The Anchor, I spent the evening hanging out with Blake, Isaac, Amos, Andy & Ams. 

from the anchor

These past few weeks have been all but absent posts. Since Mo and I broke up, everything's felt askew. That's not surprising: she was such a big part of my life for so long, it'd be weird if I could continue on in unbroken rhythm. I miss her, I really do. But things have been unraveling, and I've been finding my center again, so that's good. This past year has been a cycle of stress, and I can't help but wonder if that played into the decision I made to break up with her. It's been one thing after another, and God knows I'm not the best at dealing with stress, and it could very well be the case that breaking up with her was my own attempt to lasso the stress, to try and deal with it. If that is the case, it didn't work, and there's a lesson in that. I've never been good at dealing with stress, especially over the last year, and I think that's because up until recently, I didn't really have a lot of it. Sure, there was the usual stress that comes with everyday life, but I was never a "stressful" person: that's the last word people would've used to describe me. But that's changed, and the switch came back in May of last year, that damned lymphoma scare: those stress wheels started rolling, and I haven't been able to gain control of the damned thing since.

I've been asking myself, "Where's all this stress coming from?" Not so much what am I stressing out about, but why, now, am I being stressed out? Those things I stress about were always there, they just didn't stress me out. Questions about what I want to do with my life, who I want to be, what I want out of my time here, those questions took on a new importance after last May. Time hadn't been of the essence, but someone telling you that you've probably got 4th stage lymphoma and perhaps little time left makes time itself seem so much more important. Now those questions that had rested so easily in the back of my mind as I lost myself in my friendships and relationships, my games and play, come to bear on life in such a pressing way that they weigh like an anvil on my chest. I don't have all the answers right now, and with time leaking away, that creates more than a mountain of stress. 

And I don't deal with it very well. I sabotage relationships, isolate myself from other people, I do nothing but get stuck in my own head with no way out. Stressing over my future only erects roadblocks to that future, especially when my main method of dealing with it is immature at best. Often I wonder how things with Mo would've panned out, had I not been consumed by stress, had my perception of my life not been skewed. I really do believe that things would've been different. But that's neither here nor there. You dig your hole and you sit in it. Story of my life. 

But things have been getting better. I've started praying a lot more. And by "a lot more" I mean "I've started praying." I hadn't for so long. Oh, I'd try, of course: but my own cluttered mind always got in the way, or I felt as if I were just speaking (or thinking) to the wall. What I've found, carving out time to pray and meditate, is that the stress dies down. And dying down is putting it mildly: I had the first peaceful night in a long time after spending a considerable amount of time in prayer. I'm writing my prayers down, kinda like journaling to God. It sounds amateurish, but it's a way for me to be disciplined, to formulate my thoughts, to set them before God. As I've been doing this more-and-more, I'm finding myself re-centered. I'm discovering myself, and God, all over again, and in a refreshing, rejuvenating, hope-inspiring way.

Harking back to the stress, as I've been praying and meditating, I'm finding deep-seeded insecurities that not only harbor stress but fuel it. There's the insecurity, for instance, over my status before God. Am I in? Am I out? Does he like me? Does he not like me? I almost feel like that little girl in the flower patch plucking petals off lilies. As I've grown more conscious of my sin, the wickedness in my heart, I've sunk deep into a legalism that says my status before God is determined by the efficiency of my obedience. Knowledge of my glaring inefficiency has done nothing to make me to rely on God but, rather, has made me distance myself: I'm not worthy, so why even try? And then, of course, comes the thought that because I'm so bad, there's no way he would call me his child. And if that's the case, then I'm pretty much on my own. And from someone who grew up all his life thinking God had a plan for him, that God had everything under control, that God had his back, well, that means the entire foundation, the bedrock, the hope and endurance that has sustained life has been shed like an old garment. That creates a whole new mountain of stress, and as I've been immersing myself in scripture and in prayer and meditation, God's been speaking to that insecurity, condemning those damning lies that have had me in their grip for so long. It's freeing, really: I can call myself a beloved child of God, an heir, a member of the family, with all the benefits and privileges therein. Not because I'm good enough (that's laughable) but because of what Christ accomplished, fully and finally, in securing forgiveness and redemption. It's because of Christ that I can come in confidence before God, and it's because of Christ that God looks upon me not as a miserable wretch but as a child whom he loves, cares for, and provides for. And with that comes hope: the hope that God isn't done with me, that his promises remain sure, and everything that's transpired over the last several years, all those insecurities and the issues and the doubts, all of that was factored in when he promised, "Everything will be okay." This is all part of a journey, the shitty parts and the wonderful parts, and I should be thankful for both.

These past few years, ever since graduating college, I've been confused as to who I am, who I want to be, what I want to do. All of it started, really, when I began questioning God's love for me. Hindsight is a bitch, and I'm seeing that so much is tied to that doubt, that doubt that (a) God really does love me, (b) that I really do belong to him, and (c) that he'll take care of me. Getting back in church, taking time to pray, step by step bringing myself back to the center... That this is right and real is made all the more clear to me because it feels natural. Living out-of-step with God for so long (not in the sense of being heinous or anything like that, more-so confused and lost and disconnected from him) has felt unnatural, has bred anxiety and paranoia. I went from being plugged into the author of life to disconnecting myself. I don't think that at anytime I "lost my salvation", because if that were the case, then why would the Spirit be there, all through it, in the quiet moments and in the loud as well? If I were a lost cause, why would God go through such lengths to bring me back to him? 

All this to say, I feel like I'm making a breakthrough. I've been trying for so long to "get my life together": to formulate a vision, to act it out, to get out of this rut and move forward into something better. But for all my striving, my stressing, my worrying, nothing's come of it. I'm learning that movement may not happen when I move forward but backward, by reclaiming that life I once knew, that life I want to know again, the life that's characterized by peace, joy, contentment, and hope. I'm learning that movement may not come by my own efforts to "take control" but by allowing God to shape me and mold me into who he wants me to be. I'm far too stoic to start singing "Jesus Take The Wheel," but you get the idea. Reclaiming my life with God is freeing, liberating, refreshing; and it's hopeful. It gives me hope that things won't always stay the same, that movement's got to happen sometime, and that there's an end in sight to this stagnated, sub-par life I've been living. 

This has been a rambling post, and I'm not really sure if anything I wrote make sense. 

But I wanted to share what's been going on with me in these weeks of blog-dom silence.

Next up: the 15th week!

the 14th week

I'm the average height of a Roman soldier, remember?

Monday. I worked 6:30-1:30, spent the afternoon hanging out with Blake, Traci, & Isaac, and then we headed over to the Loth House for The Walking Dead with John & Brandy, Amos, Ams, Andy & Dave.

Tuesday. I worked 6:30-1:30, spent the afternoon dicking around, and then headed over to the Loth House for an evening of Archer and video games with Amos and Brandy. Yeah, I'm original in how I spend my time. Frank and Rebecca were there, too. Someone got arrested outside their house. The cops searched the car and found a GIANT bag of weed. When Brandy got home she unveiled a suit of armor, that of a Roman centurion. Being a fan of Roman warfare (remember the Rome: Total War days?) and also meeting the average height requirement of an ancient Roman soldier, I donned the costume and lived out a fantasy. "If only I had my gladius," I grumbled. "And perhaps a scutum."

Wednesday. It snowed last night and most of the day. It looked like a blizzard at times. Dave was sick so Eric came in early to cover for him. A crazy morning but a slow lunch. My evening was all but crazy, however: I took a two-hour nap, did some grocery shopping at Kroger, and fixed a delicious dinner of broiled chicken, mac-&-cheese, and homemade mashed potatoes ("What's taters, eh?" - Gollum).

Amanda's 24th Birthday! I had the day off work, thanks to Bob ordering yet another cut in hours. I woke around 8:30 and went to The Anchor: oh, how I've missed shitty diner coffee! Ams came over for a while, and when she left I dined on a decent crockpot dinner: chicken tandoori with onions, broccoli, and mushrooms over a bed of basmati rice. Ams returned with Josh in tow, and Amos, Isaac, and his friend Mary came over. We listened to folk music, drank beers, and took shots in celebration of Ams' birthday.

Friday. Isaac, hungover from a late night of drinking with Amos long after everyone else retired, was kind enough to ferry me to work: my car wouldn't start again this morning, yet again. He was doubly kind to pick me back up. Stranded at home for the evening, I didn't do much of anything: wrapped up a several-month personal study of colonial America up to 1763 (who does that?), finished Season 5 of The West Wing, and had eggs and toast for a late dinner.

Saturday. I woke around 7 AM and went for a walk to UDF for some French Roast coffee lathered in cream and sugar. Lunch was penne pasta with mushroom alfredo and topped with chicken, broccoli, and mushrooms. Ams came over, and we got Penn Station for dinner and enjoyed the subs and fries while watching The West Wing.

Sunday. Ams jumped my car last night, but it was dead again this morning. Time to take it into the shop: I've got an appointment tomorrow. I wasn't able to go to U.C.C. yet again. I took a cold and windy walk to UDF for coffee and spent the morning catching up on sermons I've missed. I spent the afternoon watching The West Wing and hanging out with Isaac until Blake returned after his weekend at Traci's. We got dinner at City Bar-B-Q and hit up the Happy Hollow with Isaac.

one month later

I miss Mo. I really do. When the stress skyrocketed, I broke up with her. Multiple times. I wasn't able to think clearly, I had too many unresolved issues, and now with some of the issues dealt with, and with my vision clearing, I can't help but see HOW FUCKING STUPID I WAS. Here was a beautiful, good, wonderful woman who LOVED me, wanted to BE with me and SHARE HER LIFE with me. A woman who understood my quirks and was okay and even endeared by them. A woman who thought I was SEXY of all things. A woman who made unfair concessions and continued being with me despite her ever-present fear that I'd break up with her. A woman whose fear was realized, and by my hand.

I hate what went down.

I hate that I put her through that.

I hate it because she didn't deserve that, I did.

And I hate it because I lost something.

But I can't bitch about it. It was, after all, my own doing. Blinded by stress and pierced by anxieties, I failed to see that what I've always wanted, in both person and idea, was right there, in my grasp, and I tossed it away. I do fear that my decision will be one that I look back on with regret. Not that I don't regret it now; but I fear it could very well be one of those regrets that keeps haunting you for years. I can't think about that, though: you can only live and learn, really. Everyone fucks up in relationships; all we can do is count our scars and our blessings and keep moving forward. That's what I'm doing, or at least trying to do. My plan is to take little steps rather than kamikaze leaps; maybe this way I can make some movement without falling flat on my face. 

the 13th week

pictures from my birthday!

Monday. I woke at 5 AM, kissed Skyler goodbye, and shot off to downtown Cincinnati to open with Dave. Monday Nights were good as usual, but I didn't stay long, since sleet began to fall early.

Tuesday. I finished Season 4 of The West Wing after work. I picked up Chipotle for dinner. The girl at the register LOVED how I said "Right on." Bringing back the 80's! She thought it was the coolest thing. Her loss. Isaac & I visited Julie at the Happy Hollow. Whiskey and orange juice: one part man, one part kid, just like my personality and looks.

Wednesday. I spent the afternoon hanging out with Blake: he's been sick at home. Today we made it to Wave 34 on MW3. We're awesome. When Blake went to bed and when Isaac headed out, Ams came over and we watched "Raging Planet": lightning and tornadoes. Pretty cool shit.

Thursday. I opened with Eric, a pretty crazy day: we hit $1600 in sales by 1:00, and that's saying a lot when you have a skeleton crew and usually don't even hit $1500 in an entire day. I spent the evening playing Assassin's Creed III and went to the Loth House to hang out with John, Brandy, and Amos, and we shared an evening of video games, Kentucky basketball, cuddling with Clover, and eating giant chocolate chip cookies I nabbed from the pastry case. Amos was going to get another job but that fell through, and Frank put in his two weeks and retracted it; Eric had tentatively hired two replacements, and today he had to call them and tell them he couldn't give them the job. "That sucked," he moaned. 

My 26th Birthday! I worked 6:30-1:30, training Sarah on a few peculiarities with F.P. Luke brought in two growlers from R.B. for my birthday: Brown Bear Brown & the Fire Chief Ale. I had three glasses and was quite buzzed by the time of the lunch rush. Ams, Andy, Amos and I got dinner at the Chinese buffet down the street and then hit up the Happy Hollow Inn with Blake, Traci, & Isaac. They kept buying me shots and I kept taking them, and I had three times what I normally cap off at. We played darts and cranked up the jukebox: Damien Jurado, The Black Keys, Rachid Taha ("Barra Barra") and Celine Dion (the Titanic theme, what else?). I staggered home and people filtered out, and then began a LONG night of vomiting and restless sleep. First time in years that I've thrown up because of alcohol. Now the thought of a shot of whiskey makes me nauseous. But it'll pass. 

Saturday. I woke around noon, still feeling pretty awful. I felt out-of-it all day long. I got a book on Civil War tactics and another on the WW2 Pacific theater from 1/2 Price at Kenwood. Ams came over, and we celebrated our birthdays (hers is next week) with Penn Station for dinner, and we spent the evening watching The West Wing: I'm halfway through Season 5!

Sunday. I woke at 6 AM (no, 7, with DST) after a night of lucid dreaming about women, juggernauts, and legless zombies. I beat Assassin's Creed III and hit up The Anchor before rushing to the early service at U.C.C. Anthony J. preached again, and it was really good. Ams came over around 11 AM and we met up with Mom & Dad at Longhorn Steakhouse at Rookwood Commons. I got a 16 oz ribeye paired with a Caesar salad. Mom & Dad got me a signature bottle of Maker's Mark whiskey for my birthday. Ams & I returned to my apartment, spent the afternoon playing video games with the window open and birds chirping outside. I made a trip to 1/2 Price and spent the evening reading and watching The West Wing, and Isaac and I crossed the street and hung out at the Happy Hollow for a bit before calling it a night. Oh, our exciting lives.