My sacred, and highly coveted quiet-and-alone time has steadily decreased. It's surprising, but, i find myself missing it much less than i imagined i would. For now, it's okay and good. This last weekend, i braved the masses, and entered the fray of our summertime free outdoor concert, Jazzfest. armed with an unending supply of bottled water, fifty-pound bags of ice, a golfcart and a supersoaker, i moved amongst the volunteers, paramedics and cops, keeping them hydrated.
it wasn't as hot as in previous years (this is the third year I've worked as the "water cowboy" for the event), and i actually found myself addressing strangers, saying things like "hi! thirsty?" and "greetings! have some cold water!" ...who am i becoming?
i left the event as soon as i was able, as i was deep in thought all afternoon, the result of an incredibly rewarding and soul-baring conversation with D. i simply needed to get back to her as soon as possible, to maybe reinforce what we had discussed. after a quick food-crisis for the Beautiful Boy was solved, i spent the rest of the evening with both of them.
we're at the beginning stages of planning a move. not just any move, but a wholly life-changing move, fifteen hundred miles or more away from my friends, my family, my music, and my life, here, as it is. so, there's a growing amount of anxiety at the horizon, and mostly of my own making. a lot of it is directly concerned with cold reality checks: how will we get our stuff there? will we be able to find affordable and acceptable housing? will a job in a nearby city be there, waiting for me? what will we leave behind? how much of my music gear should come with us, and what is destined for Ebay? how can we afford all of this, when it's difficult to simply make it by month to month? these are mostly technical logistics, easily solved if one applies oneself to the issues, one by one.
but where to begin? i'm finding myself easily overloaded when considering these technical logistics. we have a small, fuel-efficient car. this solves the transport of ourselves to our new home, and afterwards, the daily-commute to the small-market city south of our destination. there's four television stations there that i can easily pimp my skills at. another issue solved. transport and job/income. i can finish my mostly-finished degree at OSU's IT school. i have a beautiful family, who own a large transport van. if worse came to worst, we could bribe them to drive our stuff out, with us. when we dropped the 'moving' bomb on them, they expressed sincere interest and excitement.
as i write this, i can see that each issue has a solution, when each issue is compartmentalized. maybe it's simply the entirety, with all of the details wrapped into one confusing ball, which is overwhelming.
so, that's been the week. love is reaffirmed, daily. volunteering is good, and interaction won't actually kill me. planning for the future is logical (even when one doesn't think it is). i can still find quiet time. money doesn't care if i worry about it. i'm fat, happy, and growing less concerned with what "could" go wrong, every day.
sheesh. the old me would have kicked my ass by now.
08 July 2007
up close and personal.
being intimidated in social situations isn't as sexy as one may believe it should be; at least for me. yesterday and last night, TFG, the beautiful boy, and i attended a family wedding. All Lutheran jokes aside, it was... well, highly Lutheran in nature. (more on that someday)
the ceremony was mercifully short and to the point, with little fanfare and the like. it was incredibly hot here, on the high plains-so the worst physical part was wearing a monkey suit in the hundred-degree sunshine. i've gotten to the point, however, in social situations, that i was (self) relegated to finding TFG's highly interesting and mercifully quiet and pointed father, and clinging to him for dear life.
when in social situations, i find myself believing that i'm constantly under scrutiny of some sort. this isn't, i don't believe, out of any lack of confidence in who i am or what i can offer to those around me. i simply can't tolerate loud, inane chatter. i don't enjoy loud, crowded, and obnoxious. drunken mispronunciations and overcorrections drive me up a wall. i was only pressured to jump out on to the dance floor and perform for a mystical, midwestern wedding party ritual once or twice. both times, while under loud protest, i quietly declined.
TFG and the beautiful Boy were in their element, however. busy, people, moving, talking, yelling, laughing; it's their thing, much like quiet, calm, and introspective is mine. i tolerated as much as i could, and some beyond, before i explained over the barking of "old time rock -n-roll" over the hotel PA system, that i needed to leave. some protest. some searching for compromise. some questioning. but, mercifully, TFG quickly understood what was happening and gave me the necessary blessing to go. (with the request to please come back to their home instead of to my little loft apartment downtown)
and that was it. once i was in the car, alone, with familiar (and loved, and artistically relevant) music in the CD player, the stress was gone. like a set of dirty clothes. i found my way to the freeway, and lazily circled the city, going an extra exit or two beyond my destination simply to extend the moment. the solitude.
i found my way back to TFG's home, and curled up in her amazing bed with her affectionate cat. alone, quiet, and with some freshly scored weed, i threw on Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince on audio, and fell asleep. an unknown time later, TFG arrived, loud and excited, and pissed about an affront that she and her immediate family had suffered at the hands of an uncaring wedding participant. i woke, tried to calm her down, and listened. i'm good with one-on-one communication, with those that i love and trust.
now, i realize the inherent dichotomy that this whole social anxiety thing is at direct odds with my hobby, which involves me getting in front of loud, drunken, obnoxious louts, and entertain them with loud, drunken, obnoxious music (custom crafted by and for idiots). somehow I've partitioned this into a "work" theme, where i can get onstage and play and count and remember breaks and quip self-effacing jokes and 'how does this song start again?' i don't get the telltale shivers of uncomfortability in live music situations, possibly because i'm up there with people that i love.
it's difficult to be split right down the middle sometimes. just ask TFG.
the ceremony was mercifully short and to the point, with little fanfare and the like. it was incredibly hot here, on the high plains-so the worst physical part was wearing a monkey suit in the hundred-degree sunshine. i've gotten to the point, however, in social situations, that i was (self) relegated to finding TFG's highly interesting and mercifully quiet and pointed father, and clinging to him for dear life.
when in social situations, i find myself believing that i'm constantly under scrutiny of some sort. this isn't, i don't believe, out of any lack of confidence in who i am or what i can offer to those around me. i simply can't tolerate loud, inane chatter. i don't enjoy loud, crowded, and obnoxious. drunken mispronunciations and overcorrections drive me up a wall. i was only pressured to jump out on to the dance floor and perform for a mystical, midwestern wedding party ritual once or twice. both times, while under loud protest, i quietly declined.
TFG and the beautiful Boy were in their element, however. busy, people, moving, talking, yelling, laughing; it's their thing, much like quiet, calm, and introspective is mine. i tolerated as much as i could, and some beyond, before i explained over the barking of "old time rock -n-roll" over the hotel PA system, that i needed to leave. some protest. some searching for compromise. some questioning. but, mercifully, TFG quickly understood what was happening and gave me the necessary blessing to go. (with the request to please come back to their home instead of to my little loft apartment downtown)
and that was it. once i was in the car, alone, with familiar (and loved, and artistically relevant) music in the CD player, the stress was gone. like a set of dirty clothes. i found my way to the freeway, and lazily circled the city, going an extra exit or two beyond my destination simply to extend the moment. the solitude.
i found my way back to TFG's home, and curled up in her amazing bed with her affectionate cat. alone, quiet, and with some freshly scored weed, i threw on Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince on audio, and fell asleep. an unknown time later, TFG arrived, loud and excited, and pissed about an affront that she and her immediate family had suffered at the hands of an uncaring wedding participant. i woke, tried to calm her down, and listened. i'm good with one-on-one communication, with those that i love and trust.
now, i realize the inherent dichotomy that this whole social anxiety thing is at direct odds with my hobby, which involves me getting in front of loud, drunken, obnoxious louts, and entertain them with loud, drunken, obnoxious music (custom crafted by and for idiots). somehow I've partitioned this into a "work" theme, where i can get onstage and play and count and remember breaks and quip self-effacing jokes and 'how does this song start again?' i don't get the telltale shivers of uncomfortability in live music situations, possibly because i'm up there with people that i love.
it's difficult to be split right down the middle sometimes. just ask TFG.
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