Endgame

Eighteen, at last count. Eighteen children lie murdered today. It is horrifying. Beyond sad. Infuriating. Another school shooting. And just writing that sentence is beyond my comprehension. I was a young teen when Columbine happened. Now school shootings occur with disarming regularity. Our terror at the unimaginable has shifted into numbness at the mundane routine mess of it all.

I am beyond asking when it will stop. It didn’t stop after Columbine. It didn’t stop after Sandy Hook. It won’t stop after Uvalde.

I’ve been trying to make sense of it. For the longest time I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but shake with rage. Then I just needed escape from this reality. I am watching a super hero movie. I wanted something in which the good people lost everything and the bad guys won, and then the good guys beat them and it ends happily. But the strange thing is that the Avengers don’t win. They avenge. They can’t stop the bad things from happening. But they do the right thing, the hard thing, in spite of losing it all. Maybe I can, too?

It is a shallow lesson and an inadequate response to an unthinkable tragedy that is sadly all too easily imagined. But it is all I have right now, so I will hold on to it for what it is: pop psychology based on pop culture. But the stories we tell each other are powerful. They aren’t fact, but they can so often be true. Truth emanates from human experience, and we reflect human experience by telling each other stories. It is an experience as old as humanity.

But if that is to bring solace, it is small, and not enough. Eighteen children should be alive to love the Avengers’s stories with me. To grow up and love running in the green grass beneath the yellow sun. To be safe at school, or church, or the grocer, or the public square. But they are not here anymore. What truly haunts me about all this is how it never should have happened. I could insert a bunch of buzzwords and get “political” but that’s been said before, and in America, it is well known what should happen, who should make it happen, and in the end, what should never happen again.

Maybe like a magician, we have given away the key to the universe of time, and now simply have to watch the devastation unfold time and time again until enough people have died, and then we get a miraculous second chance to bring back the dead. But no, I must be once again confusing reality with with what my soul wants so badly. Space monsters and power villains are no match for the truth. Evil doesn’t need to be purple, or red, or larger than life. It just needs a gun and an opportunity. Taking the gun away will prevent the opportunity from finding percussive voice. Sure, bad people will still find ways to hurt good people, but we shouldn’t be making it easy, damn it!

I just want every single person to grow up without fearing for their lives, fearing because someone full of rage has a gun and can use it freely, carry it openly, and put a bullet in our loved one’s fragile bodies. I don’t blame the guns, but oh, they make it so much easier. The wizard knew the endgame of his story. I don’t know the endgame to mine, to our shared story, our shared existence in this country. But I know one step I can take to work towards the future where America is free from the constant barrage of gun violence. I will take that step as often as I can.

If it means losing friends, losing the love of family, or endangering a comfortable life, then so be it. Some things are worth fighting for, and by loving peace and all my fellow humans regardless of race, gender, orientation, religion, nationality, or any other puny thing that would seem to divide us, then I can make this world a better place. I will do it in the name of the eighteen children who died today, and all others I have mourned since Columbine. They deserved better, and I will do what I can to make sure those who come after receive better.

I won’t avenge. I can’t. Avenging isn’t what I do. I will love. And I will fight. And by all that is good on this earth, I hope we all win. It is the only thing that will make all this pain worth it, in the end: making a better future by learning from the past. It is the only true way forward. And go forward we must.

Woody’s Roundup

Employment

Two weeks have passed, and I’ve been working as an agent of Human Resources at a small, local university. The current HR assistant is resigning so she can spend the summer abroad, and then pursue further education. But she hung around long enough to be training me these past two weeks.

I’ve been grateful for her assistance and the proverbial “crash course” I’ve received in how to do the job. My job seems it will be a combination of long term projects I am taking over, and what I call “email chasing”, that is, an HR related email comes in and it is my job to decide if it is something I need to pass on to the HR supervisor, or if it is something I can handle. If the latter, I then act on the email, which usually means replying and starting a new task. It’s a lot of hurry up or wait.

The job has gone well the 10 days I’ve been working thus far, but I’ve had the safety net of the previous person there to check my work or help me along. I won’t have that come Monday. Honestly, I think it will be fine, but I’m also a little terrified about taking over all by myself. My supervisor doesn’t work every day, so I will have to rely on my training and instincts to get by. Plus a lot of “email chasing” will be emailing my supervisor to double check things until I really internalize the job.

As I said in my interview prior to being hired, I am interested to be a part of an HR department. I’ve had a few bad experiences in my time as a worker with HR, and I would like to provide a more positive experience if I can. Time will tell, but really, I am an assistant more than anything, and may not have the opportunity to make much of an impact on the public face of this department. But if I can make a difference behind the scenes, that will be enough for me.

Scheduling

My previous job required early wake up calls and late evenings, at times. As a result, I haven’t had a “normal” sleep schedule for a long time, probably about 8 years. In that time, I was also diagnosed with sleep apnea. To say I haven’t slept adequately in a long, long time is probably very true. The first two weeks of May I have noticed that I have slept slightly longer each day. I was waking up before 6am when the month started, and now, exactly two weeks in, I am sleeping till just after 7am. I am hopeful that I can stretch that to 8am eventually.

Getting adequate rest is vital to me having energy to get through the day and focus at my job. I could survive at my past job with daytime naps, but that isn’t feasible anymore. Getting by without napping will be huge. I will see how it goes, but I’m hopeful that my body will adjust to a better normal.

Plus, this job is only part time, so my hours remain flexible. I will be working a few each day, but will have the freedom to come and go in the office as I need. It feels like having a job and being free all at the same time. Working from home is a possibility, as is working when necessary in order to accommodate life. Best of both worlds, I imagine.

Payment

My new job pays a living wage, $15 per hour, which should be the minimum wage in the USA (and isn’t) but as I’ve never had that much before, I am very happy to maybe have a bit more breathing room financially. I have a few things I’d like to do with my increased income, and a few outstanding debts to try to get on top of. With more coming in every two weeks, it would be nice to do both.

So many in my country struggle to get by without adequate income, even when working much more than “full time”, it really seems luxurious to get what is mis-called a “living wage”. For so long I’ve made less than $10 per hour, and had to beg for raises of 25 cents each year, that to make as much as I finally am seems amazing. It shouldn’t be this way, and I am troubled by those who don’t have what I have. But I’m grateful for my position.

Celebrating

To cap a chaotic two weeks of training, panic, and euphoria at getting and starting a new job, I celebrated by going to my first baseball game of 2022. My parents joined me, and I was thrilled to treat my dad to an early Father’s Day gift as he got to see his favorite Boston Red Sox defeat the Texas Rangers 7-1. I so much enjoy a night out at the ballpark, and last night was relaxing and a perfect cap to my first two weeks on the job.

Today I was able to celebrate further by attending Brick Fest Live in Dallas. Brick Fest Live is a small LEGO convention, and I went with my mother this afternoon. It was great to walk around the convention center and take in the various and creative creations by the LEGO aficionados in attendance. The highlight for me was an enormous recreation of Terok Nor, also known as Deep Space 9 from the Star Trek show of the same name. It was easily a few feet in diameter, and about as tall. I was able to talk to the builder for a few minutes, and share our love of Trek and LEGO. There were also more than several large LEGO sculptures, one of Woody from Toy Story. It was charming, and great to see the creative part usage in some of the sculptures, where even small bricks make a big difference.

Image of Sheriff Woody from Toy Story created in LEGO bricks
Sheriff Woody…in LEGO

Forwards

I start Monday doing my new job essentially by myself. I continue trying to gain financial independence. I’m sleeping better and longer. And along the way, life continues and I get to have fun with my family when opportunities arise. I am better off now than I was before May. Life isn’t perfect, and never will be, but things are trending up, as they say. And I’ll keep walking forwards, as a simple man, making my way in the universe.

Endings

As I type, I have two shifts left at my current job: this evening, and tomorrow morning. I have been working at this current company, off and on, and to varying degrees, since October of 2014. I quit once before for about a year to work another job that, obviously, didn’t last too long. I thought then that I was done with them forever. But when the other job fizzled, and I couldn’t find another, I went back. I’m not sure that was a good decision.

Sure, it has been great to have employment, but it hasn’t exactly been steady, good, or well-paying. There are many things about this employer, and the job itself, that I don’t appreciate. I currently work six days a week, if not very long each day, and working on Sundays has meant missing out on many family and social events. I usually wake up pretty early to start a shift, and am working when my wife arrives home from her job. It is less than ideal on both sides, and I believe my sleep has suffered for years because of the too-early mornings.

That said, it was great of this company to give me a job again after I quit once, and while it hasn’t been good, it has sustained through seven years as an employee. A lot has happened to me in the eight surrounding years, to whit: I moved across country, reunited with my family, improved my mental and physical health, got married – wow, when I list it all out, it’s a lot. I have much to be proud of.

This current company gave me my first steady employment back in 2014. In the few years prior to that, I had graduated university, gotten married, moved across country, and promptly fell into a black depression that kept me from working, ended that marriage, and almost killed me. When my wife left, out of necessity I tried to get a job, and in fits and starts worked for three or four companies, but never for very long. Then I found my current job, and it was just what I could handle, and more importantly, it paid what bills I had once my ex’s spousal support ended.

I remember first working for them in a studio basement apartment with my little dog curled up in front of my laptop, in the dead of early, early morning. Then she would curl up next to me as I slept through the day to wake up in early afternoon to work the next shift, she again curled up by the laptop. That dog and this job sustained me though many dark days. For that, I am grateful. It kept me alive in more ways than one. I was at the job, working, when I heard that my beloved grandmother died. I took this job across the country when I moved, and have sat in many different rooms talking on the phone, which is what I do, basically. Life has passed me by while I’ve been working this job.

A feeling of inertia, of a powerless motion-less existence has followed me for awhile during the working of this job. Many people talk of “dead-end jobs” and I would categorize this as one of them. There is no advancement, no improvement, just the same thing every day, in my room, by myself, talking on the phone to people I will never meet or interact with outside of a voice conversation. It has been deadening to my soul. I have avoided talking much about my work because, while I don’t exactly hate it, I have not felt any joy in it.

That is why, now, I am so excited to have sent in my resignation email, and to be looking down at two lonely, little shifts between me and being done forever. I am making a promise to myself that no matter what happens with my next employment, which I start on Monday next week, I will not return to this employer. Again, I thank them for taking me on (twice) and sustaining me, but I cannot work for them ever again. If this next job, for any reason, doesn’t work out, I will do what I must to keep moving forward rather than go backwards.

Some talk of quitting, or not enduring, as a weakness or a failure of character. I am not one of those people. I think that if something isn’t serving, helping, or improving your life, it needs to be ended as soon as possible. Life is so very short, as I’ve learned through Covid-19 and other life lessons, and is too short to work nothing jobs and not live, but exist. I’ve talked for a long time about getting out and moving on, but was too scared to make it happen. Then my employer cut my hours, and I knew it was time to stand up and do something different. Stagnation has not been good for my health, and I really feel that in this death, there will be rebirth.

For what it is worth, I feel really good about my approaching employment. I’m nervous about being able to do what I need to in order to fulfill my new duties. I worry about learning everything I need to learn as I get started, but that is for the future, for beginnings. This is about endings, and I am so glad that this part of my life is ending and soon will be over. I don’t ever need to work this job again, and for that, I am so very, very happy! I have the worst case of senior-itis that I haven’t had since finishing university. It is exhilarating, and freeing. I feel as if I stand on the precipice of something good, and only need to jump and I’ll fly. We will see. In the meantime, two more shifts are between me and my future.

I can quit, I can end, and I can thrive!

Milestones

Hit. Single. Squibber. Blooper. Line drive. Bouncer. Whatever you call it, Detroit Tigers’ designated hitter Miguel Cabrera has 3,002 of them (at time of writing). Some of them were home runs, doubles, and I’m sure a few were even triples. In fact, Cabrera’s first hit was actually a home run, as were his 1,000th and 2,000th hits. Three thousand was a slap shot through the infield into right field. Not even Cabrera can hit it out of the park every time.

I’ve been watching Miguel Cabrera play baseball since 2003. It’s surreal that I saw his journey begin 19 years ago, and while not over now, 2022 is certainly the twilight of his career. Cabrera started with the then Florida Marlins, and I was living in Orlando at the time. I watched the Marlins advance to the World Series that year, and saw Cabrera and his teammates defeat the New York Yankees to win it all. (A lifelong Cleveland baseball fan, I will nonetheless cheer for any team playing against the Yankees.)

I almost saw Miguel Cabrera hit his 500th home run. Ever since I was young, I’ve wanted to visit all 30 Major League Baseball stadiums, and number 10 on my list was Comerica Park, home of the Detroit Tigers. Last year Cabrera was chasing another milestone: 500 home runs. Alas, he didn’t hit one while I was there, needing a few more games to get to the momentous number, though like his 3,000th hit, I saw the game on TV.

Ever since this afternoon’s famous hit, I’ve been thinking about other milestones I’ve witnessed in baseball. First to come to mind is Cal Ripken Jr’s breaking of Lou Gerig’s consecutive game streak in 1995. Gerig played for 2,130 straight games. Ripken would play for another 502 games to set the record at 2,632, finally ending the streak in 1998. I was eight years old when I watched Ripken on that first historic night.

Roger Maris, back in 1961, set the home run record for most home runs in a single season at 61. That record would stand until 1998, truly an historic year in baseball, when Sammy Sosa and Mark McGwire would simultaneously chase Maris’ record. I remember watching highlight after highlight of home run after home run as those two power hitters traded the most home runs that year. McGwire would come out on top with 70, a record that would stand until Barry Bonds hit 73 three years later in 2001. Sosa, McGwire, and Bonds have all been plagued by allegations of steroid or other PED use that sullies their achievements, but as a kid in the 90’s nothing was more exciting than watching all those home runs fly out of the ball park.

Mariano Rivera is one of the greatest closing pitchers of all time, and currently holds the record for saves at 652, set in 2013. I remember Rivera not just saving baseball games, but completely shutting them down. Whenever he came out of the bullpen, to Metallica’s “Enter Sandman”, you just knew the game was over for the opposing team, and it very often was.

As I’ve grown up watching baseball, and continued to watch it every year, I’ve seen many amazing plays, records, and incredible feats on the diamond. Along the way, I’ve grown up and have been making a life for myself. It was always my dream to play professional baseball, and while that dream never materialized, I remain a lifelong lover of the game. It’s surreal to me that I’ve seen so many great, now Hall of Fame, players, and Miguel Cabrera is one who I’ve been privileged to see for his entire career so far. There have been others, of course, having watched baseball for close to 35 years, but Cabrera stands out among them. Congratulations to him on 3,002 hits and as many more as he can collect before he retires to well deserved accolades and eventually the Major League Baseball Hall of Fame.

Play Ball!

It’s been a while, everyone. I’m struggling to stay positive and forward thinking. Objectively, I am doing alright, but psychologically, it doesn’t feel that way. That’s depression, I guess.

When last I wrote, my job had been halved, and it still is. Since then I’ve been on a job interview, and am doing the maddening waiting game to hear if I have new employment. A painting was in progress, and I finished it, though I am disappointed with the end result (it was a paint by number kit, which I hadn’t attempted since my childhood). I haven’t worked out this week aside from doing yard work on Monday, which hit my fitness goals while not feeling like working out, a net positive I guess. Overall, I feel defeated.

I have created some more pieces for my photography diorama which I am extremely happy with, and I am still working on my 52 Week Photography Challenge, though I missed a photo (which I plan to make up this week). You can see both the diorama bits and my latest challenge pic on my Instagram. I have purchased a few new books that I am excited to try to read. I have projects to work on, and things to do around the house. I don’t lack for directions to go.

Yet I don’t know what is going on. Perhaps I need to adjust medication, or maybe I need to just endure some doldrums. Maybe a new job would provide the pick-me-up that I need. I just don’t know. I am taking at least one, sometimes two, short naps a day, even on days when I work out or am more active. Lately, when I do have a more active or productive day, it feels like I pay for it for the next few days. By that I mean I spend the following days unable to do much other than sit around. I try to give myself grace, and let be what will be, but it’s hard to not feel like I “should” be doing this or that. The sin of productivity follows me all the days of my life, it seems.

Last time I wrote that I don’t want to complain, and while I am trying hard not to do that, it really is difficult. I admit my frustration; clearly I want things that I cannot access right now. If you follow my blog regularly it probably feels a bit down in the mouth recently. If nothing else, I strive for honesty here. You won’t find much sugarcoating, so take this for what it is: a real look at my life. This blog is called A Simple Man, and that is all I am: a simple man, trying to make my way in the universe.

I spent part of yesterday, or the day before, just sitting outside with my pups. It was warm in the sunshine, with a nice breeze. The dogs were soaking up both, and I tried to stay in the moment, practicing mindfulness and being present where I was, not letting my mind wander or my thoughts intrude in the peacefulness. Mostly I was successful. I got some vitamin D, and a small respite from all this negativity that I’ve been experiencing lately. It was great. Then I had to come inside and back to all the grey. Still, I am thankful for what I have right now. It could be, and has been, much worse at times in my life. I’ll take all the forward progress I’ve made.

As always, I march ever onward. I really want to bring a positive blog post soon, and hope I can. For now, it is what it is. I was just watching a baseball game, and the Guardians won a double-header. But I am reminded that baseball is 162 games in a season, and is perhaps the hardest grind there is among the top sports. You don’t win baseball in an at bat, an inning pitched, or even in a game, but over the long haul. If you are not prepared to hurt, to be down and out, and to completely strike out, baseball is not for you. Champions are made from those who show up to the ballpark day after day and tie on their cleats, button up their jersey, and straighten their hat and go back out there to compete again. I’ll take a lesson from my favorite sport, and remember that it isn’t today that determines whether I am on top or not, but rather it’s the many days of being in the sun that proves I am where I want to be.

Doldrums

Whew. It’s been a tough few weeks. As I write this, I am cognizant that compared to many people’s experiences right now in the world, I’ve got it very good. *gestures at Ukraine, Florida, the world*

My job cut my hours in half, taking me from a sustainable, if barely, job to a ridiculously low level of employment. I have been struggling to work out more than three times a week, and as a result have seen few gains in my fitness level and health that I can measure. Sleep is coming more readily during the day as I take more and longer naps when before I had been cutting back. Depression is looming in my soul.

My 52 Week Photography challenge continues; I am working on a painting; a new project is in the early stages (but won’t be realized most likely until the fall or next year). My body and spirit feel very run down. I’m exhausted.

Today I could barely muster the energy to work out, though I did make it all the way through. I am obviously writing now, but I feel that I am just going through the motions on other things. There is more I want to do, to achieve, to accomplish, but right now it seems a hill too high to surmount.

I need a new job, one that can’t or won’t arbitrarily cut my hours while also paying a sustainable wage that my current job isn’t. An interview for such a job seemed lined up, but then was made to disappear for reasons beyond my control. I loathe few things as I do job hunting, but it appears I need to be back at it. My family is depending on my financial contributions, and in the future I can see needing additional funds for things yet beyond the horizon.

Not long ago I wrote about how my life was going well and I was feeling contented and I was working on my projects and challenges consistently. That has ground to a slow progress. And I don’t know precisely why, though I have mentioned a few things that seem contributory. Maybe that is all it is? I don’t know precisely. I wish I knew how to combat this cyclical depression I am in, and am hoping that my current doldrums don’t stretch into a new gloomy existence.

Complaining is not my agenda. If that is how I come across, I apologize. Frustration is shot through what I am feeling. Can I get a break? or better yet: can I push through this wall, over this hill, to the next plain or plateau? I want to get above where I am currently, and not go backwards. In some ways, I have done precisely that. Awareness of how far I have come over last year at this time, or two years ago, reaches me. Having tasted a little of that, I want more, and find it bitter to sample regression.

The only thing I can see is to keep grinding forwards. I will look for employment elsewhere. I will take my pictures, write on my blog, prepare my projects, and sleep when I can’t bear to be awake. Even slow progress is progress, and I mustn’t forget that. Here again I offer a real look at where I am and what I am going through. Life and Depression ain’t all roses and sweet cakes. It’s exercise and slogging and setbacks in between triumphs and achievement.

I’m listening to the soundtrack to the 2016 science fiction film Passengers as I write, and it is both haunting and beautiful. Despite its flaws, I really like that film and this music is part of why. The score strikes me in a deeply emotional way, and the story of that film reminds me that even when things are terrible, wonder and amazement and a life are still possible. It just may not look like what I envisioned when I set out on my journey.

The word for my 2022 is still challenges and I guess I am seeing a few knuckleballs thrown at me right now. I thought that my challenges would be mainly artistic and expressive, but boy do other aberrations intervene in a smoothly running operation, too. Best grab my tools and get to fixing what’s wrong, get to overcoming the current challenges.

Thirty-Five

In a few short hours I will turn a calendar page and with it, a new age: thirty-five. I am quite liking my thirties as I approach their half-way point. It is amazing to me that I have reached this milestone of ages, and not just because covid or other darker forces could have abruptly ended my life on this planet. Life itself is a continual wonder. I often ponder how much time I have to live, and if things are equal, I may live to seventy or even eighty. If so, I have more time to be alive than I have already lived, and that thought is an incredible thought.

With longevity in mind, I have been working out, to try to give myself a good chance of healthily making it to a more senior age. I don’t know, genetics may play as strong a role in that pursuit, but it certainly can’t hurt to be more active. I am also continually working on my mental health, to make living as great an experience as it can be. I have my hobbies, projects, and life pursuits. I previously spoke about how my experience with covid lent me new perspective, and has given me a bit of purpose in life that I was lacking previously.

I am working on many projects just in 2022, and have the beginnings of plans for 2023. For the first time in my life, I feel that I have things I want to accomplish. I published a book of poetry, and that is just the beginning of my endeavors. I would like to write more on purpose, and maybe do a themed book of poetry instead of a mere collection. I am still kicking around the idea of a podcast, and have what I think is a niche I can fill. I want to have fun with photography, and may even return to a lifelong pursuit of LEGO joy. I don’t know. I have, potentially, many years to explore old loves and discover new ones.

Just today, as I celebrated my birthday and my sister’s birthday, I took time to be present and enjoy my sister’s daughters. My nieces are still quite new to this thing called life, and seeing their unfettered happiness and exuberance for each discovered thing is quite refreshing. They are so fun to observe. They make me “feel young, as when the world was new”, as Dr. Carol Marcus once said. I love them so much, and not least for the perspective they impart.

I often laugh at my dogs, who more than any of us, I believe, live in an eternal now. Duncan is so dumb, but so happy much of the time. He just soaks up love and each thing that happens with seeming sublime contentment. He lives for walks, and dinner, and pets, and scratching his back in the dirt and fresh cut grass. Cassie is a little more aware, but still snuggles deep in blankets to sleep without a care, and lick (her love language, it seems) and cuddle when I sleep, and frolic when the mood strikes her. I could learn much from them about living for the present and not being stressed about how much life I have to live, or what is past or yet to be.

As I reflect on that prologue of thirty-four years, and that epilogue of a hoped for forty-five plus years, I know that my fears pertaining to existence are perhaps vestigial evolutionary traits meant to keep me alive in a much more primeval world. In this supposedly modern 21st century world, it seems more distracting than anything. I don’t want to no longer exist, but I also don’t want to be so pre-occupied with existential mortality that I forget to live, as do my nieces, or my furry companions. I want to be mindful of what it is to breathe and move along the river of time. Captain Picard encouraged us that “time is a companion”, one that reminds everyone to cherish each moment, because “it will never come again”.

As I move from thirty-four to thirty-five, I don’t want it to simply be another number, I want it to be an intentional step from what was to what will be along the road of what is, the road that never ends until it does, and none of us has any idea when that will be. That is partly terrifying, exciting, wonderful, frenetic, and freeing. I can make my future whatever I want it to be, so I better “make it a good one” as Doc Brown implored.

I am happy to be thirty-four becoming thirty-five, and I can’t wait to see what the rest of 2022, and the beginning of 2023, has in store. I know there is much war, pain, disease, and darkness in the world. But, oh my, it is full of peace, tranquility, vitality, and light as well. And while it is my mission to reduce the former and enlarge the latter, it is also right and good to live as much as I am able along the way. After all, “all you have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to you” as Gandalf teaches. I quote him often, as he is full of down-to-earth wisdom. My mentors, fictional or physical, often resound within my skull, reminding me of what I so often forget: that life is to be lived. So live I shall.

Thank you thirty-four, and each year prior. You have taught and served me well. Thank you for your lessons, your wisdom, and your many adventures. I can’t wait for a new year. Stan Lee often shouted: “Excelsior!” Onward indeed. Thirty-five awaits…

Apple Fitness+

My unsung challenge of 2022 is getting back into the habit of exercise. I didn’t include it on my earlier list because exercising or working out is too cliché a New Year’s resolution. Most never follow through for the long haul, as may be necessary if they are feeling the need in the first place. I didn’t want that to be me.

Last year, I purchased a new Apple Watch, the Series 7 in Product (RED). It was an upgrade over my old Series 3 in boring Space Gray. I very much appreciate the larger, always on display. The red color is perfect for me and my taste. But both this Series 7 and my previous Series 3 had a problem: they were annoyed with me. Part of Apple’s current ethos is fitness. You set up your stats, and the watch, or iPhone if you don’t have a watch, can prompt you to close your fitness “rings”, animated circles of color designed to help you stay motivated to be physically fit. One ring is red, for calories burned, the next is yellow, for time spent working out (above a certain heart rate threshold), and the last is blue for standing up and moving about (once per hour for 12 hours) (to help with chronic sedentariness).

I am not very physically active, so my rings, with the exception of the blue stand ring, never really got closed unless I was cutting grass, or cleaning the house, or something like that. And my watch would constantly be reminding me to close my rings and I wouldn’t. It was hard not to feel the thing was being judgmental and even a little sad with me for my lack of activity.

But, my new watch came with a bonus: a three month trial subscription to Apple Fitness+, Apple’s workout suite. I know I need to be less sedate and incorporate more movement into my lifestyle, but I hate working out. I hate treadmills, exercise bikes, and walking/jogging. I find it mindnumbingly boring, even if I have music or something to listen to. It is arduous, monotonous, and generally it kills me to do it. So I don’t. I resisted trying Apple Fitness+ because I thought it would be more of the same. But eventually curiosity got the better of me.

I activated my trial and looked around the TV app. One cool aspect straightaway is that the watch connects to the Apple TV to coordinate your workout with what is on the screen. Ostensibly Fitness+ is a vast library of guided workout videos of the genre that have been around for a long time, but this feature is killer. I don’t have to look at my watch, but it monitors my heart rate, calories burned, time spent working out, and my fitness rings, and puts all that on the screen while the video is playing. As I follow the instructors I can see my progress and achievements in real time. It is a huge motivator.

The videos themselves are categorized by workout type, duration, and instructor. There are three instructors for most videos, with one demonstrating a moderate form of the exercise, one doing a simplified version, and one doing an advanced version. It is up to you as to who you follow throughout the workout to get the level of exertion you want, or feel you are physically capable of doing. So far I find myself doing strength training as a warmup/beginning workout, followed by a HIIT (high intensity interval training – think cardio), followed by a dance session, followed by a cooldown/meditation. In all it takes 40-50 minutes to workout start-to-finish, with the videos themselves being mostly 10 minutes long. Taking water breaks, or simply switching between videos, takes up the rest of the time. I find for me, a beginner work-er-out-er this is a perfect intensity and time investment. To whit, they even have a section of beginner workout videos that introduce you to the format, moves, and overall gestalt of Apple Fitness+. I have not progressed beyond this section of videos yet, as I am only three workouts in and still beginning.

I couldn’t be happier, or prouder of myself. Happy, because Apple did what Apple is terrific at: making something complicated, or arduous, and making it dead simple, easy, and fun. I have a stupid grin on my face while working out that I can’t wipe off because most of me is enjoying my workouts, which is not something I thought I would ever say. The dance is something that I am terrible at, but have a blast doing*. I have no idea how to move like the instructors, but I move anyway, and it’s good for me. I am so proud that after too long, I am finally working out, closing my rings, and starting to get fit and get regular exercise. It is something that I have needed for a long time, and that can only benefit me as I get older and continue to move through life.

*My dog Cassie, a small, partly disabled poodle-mix has gotten into the spirit of my workouts. She sees me moving around like a silly person, and can’t help but try to do what her dad is doing. So I grab her front paws, help her up, and “dance” with her for a spell. She then gets so excited she zooms about and makes silly herself. It is hilarious and I hope she keeps doing it.

Overall, Apple Fitness+ takes all the thinking and most of the work out of working out. All I have to do is move like the instructors and, well, that’s it. Forty minutes later I’ve crushed my workout goals and feel great while needing a shower. The rest of the day I feel so relaxed, it is amazing. I really wish I had done this sooner. Should I keep up the daily workouts, I will definitely not mind paying for the service when the trial ends.

And best of all? My watch is finally happy with me. Fireworks go off on the screen with each ring closed and it doesn’t bug me to close my rings throughout the rest of the day. Perfect.

So Far, So Good

At the beginning of January, I set a few challenges for myself. I want to read, write, take photos, and complete a few larger projects. I have felt ambitious, which is not something I’ve been able to say in a long time.

I have read one and a half books so far this year. First to be completed was The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester. The title is unfortunate*, as the latter person in the story was afflicted with a common, yet debilitating, mental illness, and had he been born in today’s world, it is likely that he would not have suffered as he did. Treatment of the mind has come a long way in the intervening years since that man lived. To categorize him as a “madman” is unfair and ableist to say the least. The story itself was a bit over-wrought, over-verbose, and more than 1/3 too long, but it was an interesting narrative anyway. To whit: it was about the creation of the Oxford English Dictionary, in which both men, the professor and…his associate contributed greatly. There is a film of the same name based on the book that I have on my short list to watch, if nothing else to see how the filmmakers handled the text and the men’s lives.

*(I just discovered that the book’s non-American title is The Surgeon of Crowthorne which is much better, in my estimation, as it doesn’t stigmatize the man to which it refers. He was a brilliant doctor, and remained so despite his mental illness.)

The other book, that I half read, was Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig. I had been hearing about this book for a long time from my muse, Adam Savage, as it is a favorite of his, so I picked it up. It was not my cup of tea. Mostly a book of philosophy and understanding of the world, the framing story was hard for me to get into, and the way it was written was off putting to my particular vibe. I found the philosophy interesting enough, and even thought most of it to be a helpful way of viewing the world, but the rest of the book didn’t suit. I gave myself full credit for the attempt, and have moved on to a wonderful history called River of Shadows by Rebecca Solnit, ostensibly about the creation of motion photography. So far, it is so good.

I have been following my 52 Week Challenge for photography, and just completed week 6! It hasn’t been easy to take one photo every week. Not so much because the photography itself is difficult, but finding the time and motivation to do it regularly. I am used to taking a photo when the mood strikes, and to perform like clockwork is the challenge. But I have liked most of the results and am excited to continue. At this point it is incredible to me that, if completed, I will have 52 photos to show for it.

Week 6: Golden (of the Golden Ratio, and, of course, droids!)

Along with my photography is an ongoing project that I have surprisingly found myself continuing to work on. That project is the creation of scenery pieces, or dioramas, for my photography. These days I am quite taken with action figure photography, preferring the six inch scale variety of Star Wars figures from the Black Series and Archive lines from Hasbro. To make those photos more interesting, I created some sets. Crafted from spare styrofoam packing taken out of various boxes, acrylic paint, superglue, and various bits from random plastic model kits plus a few 3D printed parts from the internet, I have managed to create useful and visually interesting background elements. The work continues little by little, but I am happy with the direction it is going and ecstatic to be so often finding the motivation to do said work.

I wrote three blog posts in January, and this is my first in February, so that is proceeding apace. I completed no fewer than three other projects of a personal nature that I have been putting off for some time, or that newly came to me with the turning of the calendar. One was for my sister, and I can’t wait to see her reaction to the result. In fact, I am doing so much, and checking things off my list, that I am already wondering if I should not brainstorm more challenges for myself so that I don’t run out and stall. The 52 week photography will obviously go all year, as will the writing and reading, but as I’ve already knocked out several of the larger, single-go projects, I don’t want to find myself nonplussed and searching for something to do come summer. So, To Be Decided, I guess.

Overall, I’m chuffed to bits to be where I am mid-way through February. It is more than a solid start, and I hope the trends continue. What are you working on, or challenging yourself with this 2022, and how is that going? Drop me a note and let me know! (You can find my contact information elsewhere on this blog.) For now, I think I may read and discover more about how video was invented.

Mine Own Deformity

I am simmering with rage. I am sinking to the terrible depths of despair. I am blanking into the unremarkable mess of it all, bland and unfeeling. I am barely holding back tears of burning, biting sorrow. I am frustrated. Bitter. I stumble through murky mists and sit and stare at nothing.

I am listening to a song by an old band, a favorite of mine, Burlap to Cashmere, called “Scenes”. The lyrics talk of a fight, a war, and quotes from Richard the III, a play about a twisted man who plots to be king. It is a deep cut from my teenage-hood, a turbulent time of longing, depression, and deep angst.

As befits my mood, I am listening to the song on repeat and brooding on the meaning, and mine own deformity of mind.

I don’t necessarily want to unpack and lay bare all my feelings. This isn’t that kind of post, and really, that sort of talk belongs in therapy securely locked behind patient-therapist confidentiality. What I do want to talk about is the fact that mental illness, while ever present, is not insurmountable.

I haven’t written about my unending, unyielding fight against depression in a while, but I have done so quite a bit before on this blog. Mostly I try to keep things positive, and sunward.

Lately I have noticed a trend in my life, of ups and downs, and they are becoming quite predictable. I will have a day, or two, or three if I can stretch it, of productivity, good feelings, and steady energy. Following that, I will have a few days of sleep, lethargy, and feeling out of sorts and down. This evening is the first time in a long time I have felt dark.

If this sort of talk makes you uncomfortable, welcome to my world.

I am uncomfortable most of the time, usually tempted to hate the sunlight and the happy times, because I know that night and sadness inevitably follows.

I simply mean to say that tonight I feel so much. It’s confusing, irritating, and follows a day or so of blah. It’s exhausting. I want to feel me and myself and have that stretch into an unending now-ness of being who I truly am when I can shake off all else that drags me down. But I can’t always do that.

Why type all this? Why put it out into the world and rip away the facade to show my nakedest, truest self? To declare, once more, through the darkness and negativity that I. Am. Me. This is actually the anthem of my living day, that I. Am. NOT. defined by depression. I am myself.

Honestly I don’t feel that, and the voice in my head is telling me to delete all this, that it is shit, and I shouldn’t bother. But I know that voice. It is a filthy liar, and isn’t a reflection of reality. Without straying into therapy again, I have defeated that voice, despite it’s endurance, and don’t need to listen to it. I can direct the aimlessness, dispel the murk, and march steadily towards far green countries. I am the Hero I need so desperately in the fight.

I have tattooed on my arms two Elvish phrases: aure entuluva and auta i kelomia. They mean “day shall come again” and “night is passing away” and too often I fail to read and comprehend why I have those marked forever on my body. It is for times such as these, when I need to stand and continue forwards. That’s why I keep going, because even the darkness must pass and the light will shine out the clearer in its wake.

I turn off the song, turn down the lights, and settle into bed. As Gandalf the Grey, the wise, the friend, once said: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” And I am deciding to continue to fight against my depression and have a better day with the rising of the sun.

Mental illness may feel strong, but I am stronger by far.