In Which I Wrap Up 2008

Looking back at it now, 2008 was a roller coaster year for me.

Although you won't find any posts in my archives about it, I started out the year battling some pretty heavy personal demons. Tired of struggling alone, I realized that I desperately needed a place where nobody knew my name, so I started this blog. I wrote dozens of posts about what I was struggling with, but in the end I never actually published them. Just the act of confronting myself enough to exorcise those inner demons was enough to get me through those difficult months.

After I turned that corner, I started to write. I didn't care who read it, or what they thought of what I wrote. It felt good to write for the sake of writing. It was like therapy. I was very lonely during the first quarter of the year, and writing in this blog gave me something to work for, even if it was just for myself. Lucky for me, though, that didn't turn out to be the case. Fate led me to meet some amazing people during the spring and summer, and those people would later be the one's that would help save my life.

In August, my world as I knew it came to a screeching halt. After a visit to my neurologist in late July, I finally came to terms with what was going on with my neurological state. After living for over a year with the thought the best doctor's in my region had no idea what the source of my problems was, I was told that there is a possibility that I might have an inoperable brain tumor. All the worries, negative thoughts, and pure, cold fear that I had been pushing to the back part of my mind finally came to a head. In every sense of the word, I broke down. For months, despite the appearance of mental stability that I tried to show to others, I lived as the shattered version of who I used to be. The crushing, crippling grip of anxiety controlled my life.

The post I wrote where I first mentioned my anxiety didn't even touch the surface of what I mess I was. One moment sticks out in my mind the most. I remember sitting in the middle of my bed, with all the lights in the house on. It was hot indoors, yet I wrapped myself in as many thick blankets as I could find. I sat there, knees to my chin and my arms wrapped around my legs, checking the time on my cell phone. I spent 45 minutes that way, opening and closing my phone to check the time ever thirty seconds. With each passing second, I became more and more scared. The fear and anxiety was paralyzing, and I couldn't pull myself from it. I was scared that I would lose control and hurt myself. I was scared that I would lose resolve and give in to the thoughts of running away. My mind was in shambles, and I felt I couldn't do anything to save myself.

I sought help from my doctor, and with medication and support from my family, I slowly began to improve. It was a rough trip back up from the bottom, but the most vital part of my recovery was the support that I had from my readers on this blog. When I finally wrote about my anxiety on this blog, the outpouring of support and empathy that I received from the relative strangers that I had formed a bond with over silly stories and anecdotes was stunning. Knowing that I mattered that much to these people, who only knew me through the jumble of words that sometimes are worth a laugh, and to those to whom I am just as much of a stranger to, was enough for me to realize that there was something worth getting better for...

Myself.

I'm not going to tell you that I am 100% better, as my struggles with anxiety remain just as much a part of my life now as it was then. The difference is that I know how to control it, and I know that I have the support and love from those around me. That makes enough of a difference to allow me to return to as much normalcy in my life as is possible.

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The reasoning I promised for the questions I asked with Monday's post is because music was a major lifesaver for me during the worst part of my anxiety. Whenever I started to feel like I was losing control, I would put on some music and just let myself drown in it. So many different types of music was influential in my surviving this past year, so I wanted to know what music was important in your lives.

Here are my answers to the same questions I subjected you all to earlier:

1) What was your favorite song 10 years ago?

The only music I was allowed to listen to ten years ago was Christian music, but "What Have We Become?" by dc Talk still sends a powerful (non-religious) message. 

2) What is your favorite song now?

My favorite song now is definitely "All Nightmare Long" by Metallica. Just listen to it. You'll see what I mean... Unless you don't like hard rock or metal music.

3) What song (or songs) do you feel best represents who you are?

I didn't realize how tough this question was until I tried to answer it. I'll be vain and say one of the songs that I wrote for solo piano, "Upon Summer's End". Out of all the music I have written, I consider this to be my best. Take a listen, and while you are at it, check out some of my other music (click here).

4) What song have you heard recently that you had forgotten you really liked?

It used to be my favorite song, but this definitely has to be "Slither" by Velvet Revolver. The video for this one is kinda strange, unless you like skinny, drunk and/or chemically enhanced (I'm assuming) long-haired musicians.

5) If your life in 2008 could have a theme song, what would it be?

"Run" by Snow Patrol. It's a couple of years old, but with all I've been through this year, the lyrics in this song speak so loud to me.

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With as much sincerity and compassion as I can muster without getting too sentimental, I thank you all for being with me throughout this past year. I am serious when I say that I don't think I would have made it through if it wasn't for you.

Here's for a great 2009!

In Which I Rock Out

I've got some questions for you, my readers. Feel free to answer the question that most applies to you, answer all of them, or answer none of them at all... Whichever you prefer.

1. What was your favorite song 10 years ago?
2. What is your favorite song now?
3. What song (or songs) do you feel best represents who you are?
4. What song have you heard recently that you had forgotten you really liked?
5. If your life in 2008 could have a theme song, what would it be?

My reasoning for asking these questions will be revealed in a later post. Thank you for your input!

In Which I Get Spooked

Today is Halloween.

For most, it is the one time of the year where you are encouraged dress up like a raving lunatic, an axe murderer, a combination Pirate/Stripper, Satan's Uncle, or a naughty nurse, and people will give you candy for it.

For others, including myself, it's just another day of the week. I don't get into Halloween too much, which is something I blame entirely on my parents.

Why, you ask?

After a couple of years of Trick-Or-Treating, my parents didn't let my sisters and I celebrate Halloween anymore. Instead, they took us rollerskating.

ROLLERSKATING. ON HALLOWEEN.

Now, before you get to thinking that a Halloween-themed rollerskating party might not be all that bad, let me explain that it wasn't that way at all. There were no costumes allowed, and there was no candy. The rink was void of any spooky decorations, and instead of creepy music and "The Monster Mash" being played over the loudspeakers, they played alternative Christian rock. A local Christian radio station hosted/sponsored the event by renting out a couple of rollerskating rinks in the area, touting it as a safe and fun alternative to the traditional Halloween.

As someone who routinely had (and still has) trouble with coordination in shoes without wheels, I'm not sure why my parents thought that I'd have fun rollerskating. They'd hand me a pair of clunky brown rental skates and shove me off towards the rink, wobbling and careening wildly all over the place. I'd pull myself along the wall by the railing, cruising at a cool 3.7 miles-per-hour. Towards the end of the night I would gain enough confidence and skill to skate around the rink on my own away from the wall, but it was inevitable that I'd forget about the rubber bumper "brake" on the front of the skate and fall forward on my knees.

Even now as an adult, there isn't going to be any Halloween celebrating this year, either.

For those who are getting out tonight, have fun, be safe, and be sure to blog about it afterwards!

In Which I Tell A Story

The sun shines warmly on the back of my neck, as I walk slowly down an old dirt road. The unseasonably hot weather has thoroughly dried the surface of the road, causing small clouds of dust to rise into the air with each step I make. The sunlight filters through the leaves of the trees lining the sides of the road, creating patterns that dance on the ground before me as the light breeze passes through.

Gazing down the road, I brush away beads of sweat from my forehead. This road seems to be getting longer by the minute, I think to myself. The heat from my burning neck is a painful reminder that I neglected to put on sunscreen before leaving the house. I'll be paying for that later. I check the time, and focus on the rhythm of my scuffing feet. The undulating motion of the sunbeams on the road mesmerizes me, and I get lost in thought.

I'm brought back to the present when a large rain drop lands on the top of my head. I wipe it away absentmindedly, and look at my watch. Twenty-five minutes had passed. I couldn't vouch for where that time had gone. Even worse, I thought, I have no clue where I am. Suddenly, another pair of rain drops fall heavily on my shoulder. Looking up at the sky, I notice that the sun has disappeared, replaced by dark and ominous-looking clouds. A roll of thunder confirms my suspicions, and I quicken my pace as the rain starts to fall.

Before I make it ten steps further, the sky opens up. Within thirty seconds, I'm soaked through my clothes. There is a puddle forming in my shoes, and the formerly dry, dusty road has turned into a muddy, puddle-ridden obstacle course. The rain is coming down at an angle, each ice-cold drop that slams into me a reminder to check the forecast before going out for a walk. There is no place along the side of the road for shelter. There is a bend in the road ahead... Maybe there's a house or something that I can hide under until the rain stops.

Just past the bend, no more than fifty feet away, a driveway parts the trees on the left side of the road. The driveway winds through a massive expanse of well-manicured grass, leading to a large white colonial. A gazebo stands guard on one side of the driveway, and through the rain I notice a figure standing in the gazebo, arms motioning towards me. I start to jog towards the structure, eager to get out of the rain.

I take off my glasses as I arrive at the gazebo. In my attempt to make myself more presentable, I wipe the excess water from my face, and run my fingers through my hair. Putting my glasses back on, I look to see who this kind stranger is. My eyes focus slowly, and I see her. I'm astonished. How can this be? Is this real? She gestures towards the bench she's sitting on, and I join her. I'm speechless as she reaches up with one hand and tucks an errant strand of hair behind one ear. Smiling, she says,

"Some weather today, huh?"

"Yeah," I reply, through a throat that is suddenly dry.

"I'll bet you're glad you found me here. Its another three miles 'til the next house."

I nod my agreement as thunder cracks loudly overhead. She jumps, startled at the noise. The rain is coming down even harder now, and the sound of it pelting the roof of the gazebo is almost deafening.

"How'd you get here?" She asks. "Not to many people just 'happen' by here."

I turn to look out the side of the gazebo and down the road. "I don't know, to be honest. I was just out for a walk. One minute I'm getting a sunburn on my neck, and the next minute I'm walking in the rain. I'm not even sure where 'here' is. Where ar-"

She cuts me off mid-sentence by pressing her lips against mine. Her hands run through my hair, tugging gently. I'm caught off guard, but soon overwhelmed by the light fragrance of her hair and sweet taste of her lips. She pulls back for a moment, giggles, and pulls me towards her again. Her breath feels warm against my neck as the cold rain continues to fall around us. She wraps her arms around me tightly, and in this embrace we stay for what seems forever.

"You're shivering," I say quietly after a few minutes.

"I know," she replies, sliding down the bench a little. "I didn't exactly dress for this kind of wea-"

The last word gets interrupted by another explosion of thunder. She moves closer towards me again, seeking whatever comfort I can provide.

"Kiss me again."

I look down at her, and I---

THUMP!

I roll off the couch and onto the floor, my dream shattered like the still reflection of a pond when disturbed by a thrown rock. I'm confused.... Where am I? I pick myself up off the carpet, trying to figure out what happened. I shake my head to rid my mind of the fog that settled there, and come to a sad realization.

I had been napping. On the couch. Every single part of what I thought happened, had been a dream. Of course it was a dream, I think to myself. Where else would I get a chance to make out with Scarlet Johansson?

Darnit.

In Which I'm Excited

I casually mentioned something on Twitter a little while ago, and realized that it deserved further explanation. Before I get to the explanation, I need to preface it with an explanation.

I am something of an amateur photographer. It is nothing that I do full-time, mostly just as a hobby when I can. I've done a few weddings for friends, but I prefer to do what I call "art" photography.... Landscapes, waterfalls, sunsets, etc. I haven't done much with my portfolio, although I did recently try selling greeting cards and things like that in a local store. I didn't mention my photography hobby before, mostly because I'm trying to keep certain parts of my life separate from my blog. It also isn't an all-too active part of my life, but what happened today definitely deserves mentioning.

Earlier this afternoon, I was contacted by the Art Department at a Warner Brothers television production company. They said that they are filming a new television series called "Fringe", and the set designer was searching for art to include on a set. They were originally searching for a painter with a name similar to mine, and accidentally came by my photography website instead. After browsing through the gallery of photos I have taken in Maine, they decided they liked my work better, and asked to purchase some of my photos for use on their set.

Holy crap, people.

Holee-crap.

I was completely blown away by this. It took me a good two hours to calm down, but I managed to pull it together enough to speak with a couple of people in the Art Department at WB, to understand what they were looking for and to come to an agreement.

What I know right now is this:

• They have selected three of my photographs.
• They are going to use them on the set that is for the main character's apartment, to tie in with the character's back story.
• They are paying me for rights to use them on set for the duration of the show, and will be express-mailing a check to me by Saturday.
• I will FedEx them one 8X10 print of each picture by Tuesday morning of next week.

I'm not getting rich overnight from this, by any means. I'm sure I could have haggled my way into a bigger check, but I didn't want to risk losing the deal. The money I will be getting will be a nice reward for my work in photography, and damn fine way to end the week.

So. Let's re-cap.

Big television network + Small-town amateur photographer + Three Photographs = $$$

Fate, how I LOVE thee!

In Which I Am Nostalgic

Earlier this morning I was thinking about the plans that I have for tomorrow, the 4th of July. I have the day off from work, and I'm going to be spending a large portion of the day helping my father do some work around his house. I'll probably go catch some fireworks once the sun goes down, which should make for a pretty good day overall.

All of the planning of events for tomorrow got me thinking about how I've celebrated the 4th of July in the past, and I got a little nostalgic. I figured it would be fitting to talk about a fond memory I have of celebrating the 4th from when I was a kid.

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When I was in the sixth grade, I had finally come out of my shell enough to make two good friends. For the sake of anonymity, I'll call them Alex and Tim. We were pretty much inseparable throughout the school year, and they both lived close enough to me where we could still hang out during the summer time. It felt good to have some real friends, because prior to them, I didn't have any.

A few weeks after school let out for the summer, I got an invitation in the mail to Tim's birthday party. His parents owned a summer house on a lake, and the invitation was to camp out at the lake house for a few days. I learned that Alex got the same invite, and quickly begged my parents to let me go. Tim's birthday happened to fall on July 4th, and we heard rumor that there was going to be fireworks. Alex and I finally got the approval from our parents, and I waited impatiently until July came around.

The day finally arrived, and my parents drove Alex and I to Tim's lake house. I couldn't wait until my parents left the driveway. I had never had time away from home with friends before, and this was going to be great. Excited as I was, I was also very nervous (As an aside, I believe this is the origin of my nervous stomach problems). Tim's parents must have noticed my nervousness, and they quickly made me feel at home.

There was much to do while at the lake house, but it was raining when we first got there so we all went into Tim's room until the rain passed. We read, played with Lego's and board games, and talked incessantly. The rain didn't stop until sometime during the night, so we weren't able to sleep in the tent that night. The next day was bright and sunny, and so the fun began.

We spent as much time as we could outside, and we acted as much as we could like 11 and 12 year old boys do. We went swimming for a while, and then went out in the boat to go fishing. We noticed, and talked about, the group of girls camping on the other side of the lake. We refused help from Tim's dad when setting up the tent, and then realized we had no clue what we were doing. We felt empowered when night came, and we were allowed to light our own sparklers. We burped and farted loudly, and we teased Tim's younger brothers. We ate too much and drank too much, and we complained of sore stomachs until the birthday cake was brought out.

We shouted and yelled excitedly when the fireworks started. We got reprimanded for being so loud by Tim's parents. We laid on our backs with our heads on our hands, watching the fireworks leap into the sky, the smoky path behind them briefly illuminated with its colorful explosion. We used our flashlights to send Morse Code messages to the girls across the lake. We clapped loudly as the fireworks ended, in the traditional chaotic flurry of explosions and spiraling pyrotechnics.

We stayed up late talking, whispering between ourselves about who we had crushes on and which teacher we hated the most. We got scared by strange noises in the woods, and pretended otherwise. We slept for a few hours before the sun came up, and made plans to go out on the boat to see the girls across the lake.

The next morning, we got up and ate breakfast, and made ourselves presentable. We piled into the boat to go see the girls across the lake, but we chickened out halfway there. We went fishing for a little while, and played pranks on the guys buzzing around the lake on jet ski's. We would wait until they would zoom by, and then yell something loudly to get their attention, causing them to turn around too quickly and flip over. That made them very upset, and we got back to shore as quick as possible when they started to come near us.

We were overtired from sleeping too little, so the rest of the day was pretty low-key. The rest of the time at the lake house passed all too quickly, and before I knew it my parents had arrived to take me home.

I remember talking to my parents on the way home about how much fun I had, mentioning everything I could think of. I talked so fast that I tripped up on the words, constantly having to pause for a breath and to repeat myself so my parents could understand me. The July 4th camp-out became something of a tradition, and "us three guys" would have two more summers together before high school would start and take us in different directions. As with most people I grew up with, I haven't talked to either Tim or Alex since before graduation. I hope my old friends can look back at those times, and remember then with as much fondness as I do. Those moments of freedom and childhood rebellion are one of the best memories I have of my life, both as a child and as an adult.

Life has changed so much in the years since then, and during the times when I feel just how incredibly small and insignificant I am in this world, I like to be able to remember the moments where I felt so unstoppable.

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Whatever your plans may be, I hope you all have a safe and enjoyable holiday.

Have a beer for me.