The Next Step

 I got a job. It’s a contract job through December. It pays well, though there aren’t any benefits.

Is this ideal? No. However, it still feels DAMN Good.  Combined with the freelance work I have (and will continue to pick up) it will allow me to justify my move out of Awkward Central, pay for an apartment, keep Bits (the cat) and I in food, pay bills, save money and figure out everything else.

The job hunt will continue (hell, I’ve got an interview for a full time gig in the same area next week) as will the writing here and on Big Project #2. After being tossed about by the seas these past few weeks (which have felt like months) it feels right and proper to have control. It makes the plans I’ve developed in those same weeks more real.

And makes the changes and challenges to come less daunting.

Do I know what’s next? Not completely. But I know who’s going to be working, writing and fighting his ass off to get what he wants.

As Fredrick Douglas said, “Without struggle, there is no progress.”

As I say, “Progress is like money, air and sex. It matters even more when you can’t seem to find any.”

Different Roles, Different Players

From Uber-Geek and Uber-Geekette – I get simple companionship and distraction. He and I talk more than ever about what’s transpiring, but he keeps my confidence – a needed shield in this time.

From the Fortunate Son and his wife, the IT Goddess – I get his unflinching confidence and the example of her focus and drive. Regardless of how much or little I see him, his loyalty will be as unwavering as her strength.

From Sir and Lady Wolfgang the Lost – A haven in the South, open to me should I wish to visit or try to find roots there. His mind and opinion, unfettered and honest. He reminds me of the happiness he saw in me in the past three years and cautions that I weight my decisions carefully. Or else he’ll sick his wife upon my stupidity.

From My Brother in Blood and Spirit – More history than anyone who doesn’t share my last name. Distance that is overcome by an understanding of who I am greater than almost anyone else. The Zen focus to get past all the bullshit and remind me that Love – of self, of what you do and if your lucky to find it in another person – is more than enough reason to carry on through the shit and the fire and the fear.

From My Muses – Inspiration, insight and understanding of myself, my dreams and the situation. A reminder that I am the Hero of this piece. And that this place I am in and the challenges that I face are the next thing I’m set to overcome. Their passionate conviction of what is going on around me, what has been done to me and what will happen for me is astounding to me. And invigorating at the same time.

From My Favorite Mom that isn’t Mine – Continued kindness and love. With no good reason other than she is a good person, she continues to call and check up on me as if I were one of her own.

From My Brother, the Broken Knight – A constant example. Without anger and without trying to lay guilt upon me, his struggle under the constraints of a body that rebels against him serves to humble me. My body still obeys all my commands, even if my heart does not. I can and will stand straight and tall, speak clearly and with conviction.

From My Savior – She’s beaten back Cancer, holding it at arms length still. They told us it would be back and it would be bad. And still she beat it back. At times, her intractable will would anger me. I envy it now, only because I have the wisdom to use it on obtaining goals, not when it comes to dealing with people.

From my favorite Newshound – A sounding board like no other. Well versed in the players, but objective enough to call bullshit on me when needed.

The cast is much larger, and includes others who’ve done much. But all of it boils down to a few simple facts. I’ve been so focused on taking the necessary steps, I’ve not looked up and looked around at the world around me. I hear the voices of my friends and loved ones and it gives me the understanding and the love I need to say this:

I have to embrace the anger that I fear is there. Only when that’s done can I let it go. I have to unlock my emotions instead of letting them trickle out. The cracks are getting more numerous.

I’ve been trying to outrun the shockwave. I don’t know how far behind me it is. A day. A month. An hour. But as much energy as I’m putting into solving my problems, I need to be ready to confront them as they arrive.

All ahead stop.

The shockwave will hit when it hits. I’m not running from it anymore. I’ve got too much to do and too many problems to fix. I’m not going to wonder how much longer I can outrun it. I’m not going to worry about. Dealing with will happen. I can’t change that. And I’m realizing I don’t want to. Doesn’t mean its going to be easy. Doesn’t mean I’m going to do it well.

But I know I won’t do it alone. And I know I’ll come out the other side, whatever the changes will or won’t be. But I’m not going to run from change or uncertainty or difficult times. That’s not the person I want to be.

You may kick my ass. But I’ll heal and grown stronger. You’ll fade. I’ll be wiser.

Come and get me.

Expiration Dates?

I’ve learned the hard way not to make promises lightly.

Promises, in essence are vows. Oaths that you take willingly. Personal guarantees that you offer up to yourself and those you love.

Some people use promises like a box of tissues. The reach in and grab a handful, never aware of how many might be remaining, absently assuming that at worst they’ll find another box. Or maybe go grab some toilet paper. These are the people that promise to bring home the right things from the grocery store. Or the ones who promise to get something accomplished while being distracted by their favorite TV show, internet site, book or piece from their lint collection. Using a promise for these situations is like using a shotgun to kill a fly. Too much power for the job at hand.

Not me. Promises are tools. Hammers, blades and saws that you can use to build and destroy. Why are they so potent? Because of the place where they draw their power from.

Trust.

I know a bit about trust. I used to be really good at abusing it. My own and other people’s. I used to be a liar. Not an expert liar. I never got paid for it. But more of a lying savant. It wasn’t always for personal gain or protection. Sometimes it was just to see if I could. The one remaining shred of my high school arrogance was being pleased with myself about how clever I was. So I’d lie. Sometimes to impress. Sometimes to evade. Sometimes just for the fuck of it.

So sometime around 22, just as I was about to finish college I looked around and realized… Wow. I’m kind of an asshole. Now, I didn’t have to go around apologizing to people because most of the shit I lied about didn’t matter. People either believed it (and it didn’t matter) or they didn’t (and liked me enough to let it go). There were exceptions to the rule, but most of those involved romantic feelings and lying to myself as well, so we’ll call those a mulligan for now and move on. WAAAY too much there to cover here.

So I do my best not to lie anymore. I try my damnedest to avoid it when I can. I usually preempt the whole damn thing by oversharing anyway. Turning the truth into an offensive weapon has been an interesting way to kill some people with kindness. I’d helped me repair and develop a number of friendships in the past 9 years.

So, because of all this, I take promises pretty seriously. And, fairly or not, I expect a lot out of people who make promises to me. I’ve never really had this discussion with anyone other than My Brothers in Blood & Spirit and My Heroine. When offered a promise, my reaction is to dismiss it. By not putting people on the hook, it makes things easier for me to reconcile later. Yet when people are serious and firm, intent and honor in their eyes, and make a promise to me, I take it seriously.

Looking over the landscape of my life, dreams and love lately, I see the marks of damage done by promises broken and unkept. A good portion of these have my own signature on the handle. Tools and materials lying on the ground, work undone. For those, I’ve got my work clothes on. Touching the mark on my arm, I think of the one who taught me about keeping my word and get back to the heavy lifting.

Other promises… ones made to me and ones I’ve made… those are the ones I can’t seem to understand anymore. Where once I was fluent, now I can’t seem to find my Rosetta Stone.

Do promises have a shelf life? Are vows something that can expire if you don’t keep them properly stored?

I’ve got an arm load of these things now and I don’t know what to do with them. Keep them? Forget them? Store them for later review?

Life is constant change. I get that. I don’t want or expect things to be the same way there were the preceding year. But when you promise to grow and change and try, where does that leave you?

I don’t know if I want to understand this because I’m trying to hold on or because I’m trying to let go.

I look behind me and I can’t see the shockwave anymore, but it is there. Relentlessly pursuing me. I feel it coming. I just don’t know when.

And like the promises, I don’t know if I’m more worried about surviving it with minimal damage or the possibility that it will leave me in ruins.

Yet still, we push forward.

Because with no other directions offering comfort or sense, its as good a choice as any.