Postponed Indefinitely

As of Feb 16th, I've been out of the loop as far as Society is concerned. I had a rather dramatic breakdown, but I'm much better now. While I may not post anything soon, I do miss blogging and will get back to it eventually.

A weekend away.

My parents went away for a marriage retreat this past weekend. Also, the drama group I'm part of (Messengers) had their first small-group meeting at church this same weekend. As such, since we now live way the heck out in the sticks, my brother and I spent said weekend with a friend who lives in the city.

Both weekends went very well, a good time was had by all. In fact, I found that I'm more inclined to look favorably on returning home now that I've had some time away.

Moved

Dad finally got the Wi-Fi up and running. I had 189 e-mail messages stacked and waiting.

So here we are, as close to the outskirts as one can get without actually being there. It turns out there is bus service out here, but I have to call ahead to coordinate a stop, then transfer twice just to get into the city. All told it's a 3-hour trip, unless I want to get up at 7 in the morning. Then it only takes an hour-and-a-half. Forget about getting to Doc's on my own. That would take another two hours. I'd spend my whole day on the bus.

A couple bright spots, though. We got cable tv, I have both a television and computer in my own room, and we eat dinner together as a family four nights of the week. That last one is the biggest positive, considering we've never been good in the 'family togetherness' department.

One thing having my own computer and the privacy in which to use it has done is to stimulate my writing. Not just the poetry and fiction I dabble in, but also self-analysis. Overthinking every little thing works so much better when I can get it out to where I can see it and review it in sequential sentences. Doc and I will have a lot to talk about next session.

Speaking of which, he had his second surgery on Jan 7 and as far as I know he's doing well. No news is good news, right? My next appointment is scheduled for Feb 2nd. Because I haven't seen him since before Christmas, I am both dreading and looking forward to airing these issues I've newly articulated.

Change

Ah, that dreaded word. So unwelcome, yet so inevitable it can make a person crazy.

After three years of separation, my parents are getting back together. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for them. The problem arises when #1, since Dad and I live in a 1-bdrm apartment and Mom lives in a 3-bdrm house, Dad and I will be the ones to pack up and move. And #2, Mom lives way the hell out in the suburbs, one of these cities that's sprawled all over creation but Downtown is one street maybe 6 blocks long. No bus service to speak of, and me not being able to drive, means no easy access to anything.

I realize I'm whining, that my life is not as dire as it seems by comparison to many. But you have to understand that due to certain uncontrollable circumstances in my formative years, at this point in my life I crave stability. I survive on routine, the only way I can face all the 'what ifs' and 'could happens' of a world in chaos. Saturday church and my appointments with Doc are 'me time.' On those days, for a few hours, I can live completely in my own little world with no worries or responsibilities other than the ones at hand.

It's hard to explain because no one else is in my head, and even I realize what a poor attempt the above half-paragraph is. I know what I'm trying to say, but I'm not as good as Doc is at verbal/written clarification.

Doc says (and it's true) that I'm very analytical, that I'm always processing information. So, even though I have no life to speak of (school, job, travel, intricate and abundant social obligations) I still need that 'me time' as a sort of reboot, a mental and psychological anchor that keeps my anxieties from fraying me into a hundred pieces. This is why the mere thought of such a disruption as moving (again) has me edgy and at times downright despondent.

I am so invested in this Saturday Routine of mine that, even though I can skip it once in a while (I get a ride or the weather's nasty), the thought of tossing it out completely has me beside myself. It would almost be as bad as having to take my cat back to the humane society.

Unfortunately, though I could talk this out with my parents, nothing would change because right now my mom is financially tied to this house she has. However, she recently lost her job and, unless she finds another one in short order, she and Dad would have to go halvsies on a 3-bdrm apartment closer to the city. It's a bit reprehensible, but it's what I'm hoping for.

"Dead Space"

I own an Xbox 360, a Christmas present from '07. I recently bought the above game, Dead Space. Not since Halo have I been so thoroughly sucked into the world of a video game.

The genre is survival/horror. The main character, Isaac Clark, is an engineer sent to repair/salvage a mining ship after all communications have ceased. The reason why is what makes this game so great. I won't try to explain it in a few sentences because it can't be done, but this game has elements from movies like, Alien, Event Horizon, and Solaris. I jumped out of my skin several times and was surprised into saying words I don't normally use.

He's Baaaack

I had an appointment with Doc yesterday. Considering it's been 3 months and 6 days, I was happy to see him. He didn't go into detail as to why he was gone, just that he'd had surgery and would be going back in again in a month or so. I'm just glad to have him back.

It was pretty much a catch-up session, talking about all that's gone on in the interim, finishing up with Messengers mostly. My next appointment is in two weeks, hopefully we'll stay in the here-and-now this time.

Free At Last!

No, but seriously, it's only been three days since Messengers' final performance and I already miss them. I don't see any of them on anything resembling a regular basis, and we aren't scheduled to be back together as a whole group until Feb of '09 what with the holiday season fast approaching.

Also, Doc has yet to call and reschedule the appointment that's been postponed for 2 1/2 months now. Not that I mean to rush him. I'd rather I have to wait a bit longer and have him in top condition than to meet once and have another 2 months go by. I plan to clean up/rearrange my room and make regular visits to the library to keep me busy. Like it'll do any good.

Messengers, still

Four performances down, one more (and two rehearsals) to go. I'm glad we have two rehearsals to get familiar with the setup of this last church. It actually used to be my family's home church when I was little, but I haven't been there in years, and never in the sound booth. Hopefully their equipment isn't much different than what I've already used. One less thing to stress over.

Doc Sig is out of the hospital, back home and recovering. Yay! He's still not taking appointments until early Nov, but apparently (surprisingly) I'm ok with waiting. Granted I've been stressed and at times a little panicky, but no hysterics or even mini freak-outs. So kudos for me I guess. Now, after all this is done and I can 'relax' (let my inner guard down, stop wearing my brave face), that may be another matter entirely.

Cut Off by Construction

The apartment complex I live in is bordered on two sides by impassable obstacles: a railroad track three blocks over on the East, and a freeway a block North. There is no direct access from the South due to a separate apartment complex which has no through-way to ours. On the West side is the only good access, a main street that normally serves a lot of traffic North/South. I say normally because it's been under construction for a few months.

I can hear the heavy machinery out there now, back-hoes and dozers and little one-man Cats. They make a lot of noise, especially at 8 o'clock in the morning. If I remember right, they're revamping the sewer/drainage piping. They dig holes, put in concrete pipes, fill the holes, dig more holes, move the dirt around. Because of this, the entire street from the north end of our complex to the south end is barricaded off so no cars can get through.

The only way to reach us now by car is from the south along a narrow frontage road next to the railroad track, then down the single street that runs along the north edge of the complex between us and the freeway. It's a hell of a hassle giving directions. It used to be, "Just go South on this street till you hit that street, turn left." Hopefully they'll be done before snow flies.

Every time I walk to the store and I feel like a kind of olden-time outcast striking out from the forbidden zone toward nearby civilization, hoping to barter my meager coin-of-the-realm for supplies.

Stress

We (The Messengers) are smack in the middle of performances. Our first was this past Fri, the second just yesterday. The first was a train wreck, with several dropped or garbled lines and missed cues. The second went so much better you'd almost think it was a different play. And we still have three to go (17th, 19th, 26th).

Even in the weeks before we started, the muscles across my back and shoulders were tight. Now I'm tired and achy all over: head, neck, shoulders, back, legs. Also my chest feels a bit constricted like a panic attack and, while it's mild, it comes and goes. Although, that may be due to my increased smoking, which itself is a way I deal with stress.

Fortunately, since the first show is over and done with, all the anxiety I felt pre-season has descended to a low hum. Since our next two showings are at our church's North Site, which we've been to before, I don't expect it to ramp up again until our final performance on the 26th at an unfamiliar church. I'm sure I can keep it together until then, it's afterward that I'm wary of. I may stay in bed all day of the 27th just to avoid blowing up at someone who won't deserve it.

And, of course, underlying all of this is the grievous fact that my psychological anchor, Doc Sig, is out of the picture indefinitely. The message on his office phone says he's out for at least three weeks (from the 4th) which means I won't get to see him until the first or second week in Nov.

Waiting Game

I called Doc's office again last night. There was a new greeting message on his answering machine, which he usually does when he'll be out for some time. The message was long and a bit rambling, the man sounded beat up. I have never heard him sound so exhausted.

He said he's not sure when he'll be back to work, but he'll be out of the office for at least 3 weeks. So there's nothing for it, I'll just have to wait. No problem, right?

7 Weeks and Counting

The last time I was at Doc's office for an appointment was Aug 19th. If he doesn't call soon it'll be a new record. I called his office on Fri and left a message, hopefully he's just busy.

Postponed Indefinitely

Doc cancelled/had to reschedule, again.

He called early Mon, said he'd been up all night and was "very sick". I know it's not his fault (unless you count overworking) but he's told me a number of times that I shouldn't apologize for my feelings. So here goes.

To say I'm upset would be polite. I'm just under pissed off. It's been 6 weeks and counting with no more of an explanation than he's 'not well'. In all this time I've had no one to really talk to like Doc and I do. 

But like I said, he's not directly to blame. So when (if) he calls to reschedule, hopefully within the next day or so, I have to remember to keep my curtness to a minimum.

Still Here, Barely

I have an appointment with Doc tomorrow. It's been 6 weeks. It wasn't supposed to be. Originally it was scheduled for the 2nd, but Doc called the morning of saying he wasn't "feeling well." Since he's no Spring Chicken (mid 60's), I always get a nervous twinge when he uses those words. He's admitted he's had a close call or two and he works too hard.

Now in the past I've gone longer than this between sessions, but this was unintentional and so I'm feeling a bit stretched. You could probably tell from my previous posts, things have been a little more busy than I'm used to dealing with.

Also, my dad had surgery for kidney stones on Fri the 19th. The actual surgery went fine and he came home Sat night with a drainage tube to help excess fluid out of the kidney to allow it to heal up. He then went back to the have the tube removed on Wed, but it wouldn't stop leaking at first. After he soaked two small towels he called his doctor who said, "It's rare but sometimes that happens." Dad's fine now, on the road to recovery, but it was extremely stressful in the midst of the situation. Even more so with no one to talk to.

The Morning I Spent Waiting For Garrison Keillor

At 11 o'clock this morning, Keillor was scheduled to be at his bookstore in St Paul signing copies of his new book, 'Liberty', or whatever books people brought in to be signed. Situated above his bookstore is Nina's Coffee Cafe, and I got there early because I knew there'd be a line. As it was, Keillor didn't show until almost Noon.

The bookstore opens at 10 am and I went down to buy a copy of 'Liberty' (I'd also brought two others, but that was the main one I wanted signed). By quarter-to-eleven there were a dozen people already in line so I joined up to wait. And wait we did. At 11:15 a woman, I assume a bookstore employee, said Keillor "got held up at the office." At 11:40, mini bottles of water were handed out and that same woman said, "He's working with a new production staff (for his 'The Writer's Almanac' broadcast) but he's on his way." At 11:50, free hot-dogs made the rounds. "He should be here any minute." she said.

Then from behind me I heard, "Garrison Keillor." Someone in front of me looked back and said, "There he is." Finally.

Earlier, the woman/employee handed out sticky-notes to the crowd and said, "To save time, you should write down how you want Garrison to sign your book." Because I am an aspiring writer, and Keillor is one of my favorite authors, I put down, "Keep Writing!" As I hoped, this prompted him to ask me what I write. "Poetry mostly, nothing genre-specific, yet." I told him I keep stalling out after a week or so of writing fervor.

When I made the comment that he's my second favorite author, he said, "So now I'm supposed to ask 'Who's your first?' " I told him Stephen King and he agreed that King is a good model for a writing work ethic.

After he'd signed my books, he handed them back and said, "I'm glad I'm one of your favorites." and he shook my hand. What a nice man. I'd read somewhere that he was abrupt, more New Yorker than Minnesotan. Not true, he's just distracted and a little scatterbrained in a genius kind of way. When I checked his signatures in my books later, in addition to my note, 'Keep Writing!' Keillor added, 'Every day in anyway.' Very cool.

Messengers

Rehearsals are in full swing. This season we're doing a brand-new production from the book of John. The title is "Light and its Effect on the Beast", the beast being us as sinful human beings.

We've been rehearsing every Thur and Fri night since Aug 1, and while it's still a bit rough around the edges the finished product will be spectacular. The basic plot is there's a woman who's not convinced that Jesus is God, the one and only. So throughout the course of the play, the cast enacts a series of stories from the book of John (the woman at the well of Samaria, Jesus healing the blind beggar, raising Lazarus from the dead). I've seen it so many times by now that you'd think I wouldn't be paying much attention anymore, but every rehearsal I catch a new phrase that renews my interest.

So far we have five performance dates, two at our Downtown campus (Minneapolis), two at the North Site (Mounds View), and one at Park Ave Methodist (Minneapolis). The first performance isn't until Oct 10, so we've still got some time.

Poetry

I've been immersed in writing poetry lately, often neglecting my personal journals. I wanted to post some here but all I have so far are a couple dinky limericks and one that's not finished. This latter seems to have taken on a mind of its own and keeps wanting to get longer. It's actually pretty good, but like I said, it's not done.

So here's one of the dinks, something I spat out in a single, hour-long college English class:

I went to the fridge for a snack

And I thought I'd be coming right back

But the leftovers tried

To pull me inside

And I found myself under attack

The students in class, as well as anyone I've read it to, thought it was witty. So imagine what I could do if I really applied myself.

Psalm 40:2

For the past months I have been struggling through an extreme state of despair and depression. Only in the past week has it begun lifting. I have my own self to blame (Ps 107:10-12), but I believe I am only put through difficulty for my good (Heb 12:6-7). It's taught me patience, not only with myself and other people, but also with God (Ps 37:7a).

Not to say I don't still get frustrated, I tend to have a short fuse, but I find I'm able to deal with it in a more constructive way. I've never been one to put holes in walls, but there was this in March of '07 after the 'Dave Fiasco'. I have since added one for Doc, but even that was some time ago and all that remains are scars that no one asks about.

On a lighter note, many thank-you's to Doc for not giving up on me, exponentially more to God for that same reason. Having emerged on the other side, I can more clearly see the dark hole I was in. Looking back, remembering how I felt in there, I have a deep sense of relief and gratitude that God did not abandon me to my despair, though it felt very much like that at the time. Now I have a better perspective of how things really are instead of bemoaning how I think they should be.

I know I'm nowhere near out of the woods yet (it's called life), but at least I'm finally, sincerely doing better.

•All references are ESV

Bad News

Morgan Freeman (actor) was recently in a semi-serious car accident in which his car went off the road and flipped a couple times. Though he broke his shoulder, arm and ribs, the EMTs said he was conscious and communicative.

Bernie Mac (comedian and actor) died Sat from complications from tuberculosis. He suffered from Sarcoidosis of the lungs, medication for which can lower a person's immune system.

Isaac Hayes (musician) died Sun. The family physician listed the cause of death as a stroke.

Off-hand observation

I know that great disasters can bring total strangers together in the spirit of brotherhood to rebuild what was lost, and so on and so forth. But who knew it could also be true on a smaller scale? Example:

While waiting for the bus heading home from church tonight, I was joined by two young black men. They were talking back and forth: who was over at who's house, a time one of them got beat up by the cops, juvinilistic joking around. I tried not to listen (or smirk when something struck me funny) and basically kept to myself until the bus arrived.

When the bus got there, however, he didn't stop at the corner we were on but drove on to the next stop. One of the guys then said to me, "Did he just drive past us?" I knew he was talking to me because his buddy was ahead of him and we three were the only ones there. I was a bit exasperated too and answered a hearty, "Yeah, he did."

If you've read much of this blog you know that I don't say much to people I do know, never mind talking to strangers. But our common annoyance at basically being ignored was enough to temporarily erase the boundaries of being strangers.

I guess it just goes to show that I'm at my best (most outgoing) when I don't have the time to think about it. I wish I could just be in the moment more often, at least around people, instead of overanalyzing every potential situation.