It's Monday night, August 30. 7:15PM, Pacific Daylight Time.
Yeah, I wrote Pacific time. It's because I'm out West in Las Vegas.
Save the "oohs" and "ahhs". All things being equal, I'd rather be back in DeKalb.
Now before you go and call whatever psychological counselor you believe I may need, hear me out.
I think I may have a problem. I think I have a gambling addiction.
I spent $50 in a local casino tonight and have nothing to show for it. Scratch that. I got a free t-shirt for joining the casino's players club. Whoo. Hoo.
My financial situation is bleaker than bleak these days. I owe a few people a lot of money, to the point I'm likely going to take legal action to come to a resolution. I'm getting married next year, and I should be saving every extra penny I have for that wedding, so I can marry the most amazing woman I know. Yet what do I do? I go play the slots, and I don't have a damn thing to show for it.
I know I have an obsessive personality. I have that little voice inside me that says, "Oh, go and play one more game. You'll get it this time. One more pull...you'll win this time". Nevermind that I have to eat this week, I need to lose weight anyway. Nevermind that there's likely gonna be an extra charge that I have to pay (probably get reimbursed, but that ain't the point) for bringing a suitcase!
I had to go play in the damn casino.
It's been 28 years since I've been in Vegas. When I was 14, we drove across country, and met up with The Kid's sister in Vegas before heading down to her and my Uncle's place in the Valley. She flew into Las Vegas International airport, and if you've ever been to this city, you know there's slot machines everywhere, including the airport. Well, My Kid put a few quarters into one and didn't win anything. I walk up, put in one quarter (even though I was seriously underaged) and won five bucks.
That hooked me.
Tonight, I'm remove those hooks once and for all. I'm not entering another casino. I can't do it anymore. I have to draw the line.
If it's just me, Hell, I don't care. I can waste all my money inside one of those places.
But it ain't just me anymore. I have a woman who loves me and whom I love more than anything else.
So, yeah, I'm in Las Vegas, but I'll be spending most of my time here in my room. I'm not gonna go out. It's a temptation, and I believe there's a line somewhere that goes "lead us not into temptation". Damn Catholic upbringing. ;)
Maybe if Julie was with me, I'd be willing to go wander, see the sights, take my camera and shoot this incredible city. Enjoy it the way I should be enjoying it. But I'm by myself, and I know I can't trust myself here. Not yet.
Hello. My name is Eric, and I have a problem. But I'm gonna do something about it.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 06, 2010
It's Nature's Way of telling you something's wrong...
You've probably heard of the comic book character Spider-Man.
One of his super-powers is "Spider Sense", a precognitive sensation which warns him of impending danger. I doubt that real spiders have this ability. If they did, they wouldn't be squashed quite so easily.
It's my firm belief that we all have some form of "spider sense", warning us when there's a problem, we're in danger, or we've just eaten something really nasty and will be spending the next 20 minutes on the shitter and have, as my love calls it, burning buttholeitis.
It seems somehow fitting that my own early warning system comes in the form of a song, which starts to play on an endless loop in my head. Naturally, it's a song you've no doubt ever heard before, given that it's by a group whose popularity waned after the 70's. Spirit wrote a song called Nature's Way, and the chorus get's stuck in my head just like Spider-Man's "spider sense" goes off. Alas, there's no wavy lines emanating from my skull and half my face doesn't turn into a mask.
It's nature's way of telling you something's wrong
It's nature's way of telling you in a song
It's nature's way of receiving you
It's nature's way of retrieving you
It's nature's way of telling you
Something's wrong
That song was stuck in my head for the longest time close to three years ago, until I realized something was wrong then, and did something about it. For the last few days, it's been there again...
I mentioned in my last blog that I was having car problems. My car isn't very happy at the moment: It sputters and chokes whenever you turn it on, doesn't have too much power pulling out and the service engine soon light is blinking. It's been on for awhile: One of the O2 sensors has needed replaced. We knew about that, but this is something completely new.
Normally, I'd have Travis or Matt look at the car. They're both excellent car guys and I trust them with the old girl, but right now, I'm 250 miles from home in the middle of Indiana.
I'm the first to admit, I have more than my fair share of fears, worries and concerns. One of my oldest fears is being trapped somewhere and not able to make it home. I've had that one since I was a little kid. One night, while at Monroeville Mall...I couldn't have been more than 4 or 5...we were there at closing time and they were announcing over the PA system that the mall was closing in five minutes.
I started to panic. I remember pulling at My Kid's hand (long before role reversal would take effect) telling her we had to hurry or else we'd get locked in and not make it home. She just laughed a little and said they wouldn't lock us in.
Years later, we were out shopping and on our way home on the other side of the river when we heard on the radio that barges had broken loose near the Braddock Dam. They were flowing freely down the river, hitting bridge abutments, and the police started to close the bridges to traffic, in case they would do some damage.
I told Mum that we had to get across to "our" side of the river no matter what. She drove like a madwoman (part of my road rage comes from her...the rest of it from my brother, but that's another story for another time) through traffic passing two bridges that had already closed before reaching a third, moments before police shut it down. I never mentioned to her my irrational fear. She just did what I asked, not questioning, just doing.
I know home wouldn't be going anywhere, deep down inside. The rational portion of my brain understand and accepts this as fact. However, fears are never rational.
The possibility exists that my car may...or perhaps will...break down at some point on my 250 mile journey back home today, leaving me stranded in the middle of God-knows-where, unable to get home.
Julie knows about this, and has told me that if it does happen, she and Travis will come get me.
It's the thought that I won't be able to make it home on my own, that there's a bit of unpredictability, that scares the shit out of me.
It's a little after 8 in the morning. Right now, I'm going to the lobby and have some breakfast. One of the advantages of this job is, when I'm staying at the hotel to work, they comp my room and I get free breakfast (as well as Internet) out of the deal. I'll eat, check in with the hotel staff to ensure everything's working properly, come back to the room, pack my last few things away, change into jeans, check out, and go to the car.
That much is certain. That much is guaranteed.
After that...I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe the car won't start, having chugged the last couple days here in Kokomo, and decided to do the right thing and die before I try and get on the road. Maybe it'll try to make it into the intersection and stop in a most inconvenient spot. There's no interstate between Kokomo and Lafayette, where I get on 65 to head North. It's all country road. Maybe it'll stop there, or stop when while I'm on the interstate.
Maybe it'll make it home, but somehow, Nature's Way is telling me that's not going to happen.
One of his super-powers is "Spider Sense", a precognitive sensation which warns him of impending danger. I doubt that real spiders have this ability. If they did, they wouldn't be squashed quite so easily.
It's my firm belief that we all have some form of "spider sense", warning us when there's a problem, we're in danger, or we've just eaten something really nasty and will be spending the next 20 minutes on the shitter and have, as my love calls it, burning buttholeitis.
It seems somehow fitting that my own early warning system comes in the form of a song, which starts to play on an endless loop in my head. Naturally, it's a song you've no doubt ever heard before, given that it's by a group whose popularity waned after the 70's. Spirit wrote a song called Nature's Way, and the chorus get's stuck in my head just like Spider-Man's "spider sense" goes off. Alas, there's no wavy lines emanating from my skull and half my face doesn't turn into a mask.
It's nature's way of telling you something's wrong
It's nature's way of telling you in a song
It's nature's way of receiving you
It's nature's way of retrieving you
It's nature's way of telling you
Something's wrong
That song was stuck in my head for the longest time close to three years ago, until I realized something was wrong then, and did something about it. For the last few days, it's been there again...
I mentioned in my last blog that I was having car problems. My car isn't very happy at the moment: It sputters and chokes whenever you turn it on, doesn't have too much power pulling out and the service engine soon light is blinking. It's been on for awhile: One of the O2 sensors has needed replaced. We knew about that, but this is something completely new.
Normally, I'd have Travis or Matt look at the car. They're both excellent car guys and I trust them with the old girl, but right now, I'm 250 miles from home in the middle of Indiana.
I'm the first to admit, I have more than my fair share of fears, worries and concerns. One of my oldest fears is being trapped somewhere and not able to make it home. I've had that one since I was a little kid. One night, while at Monroeville Mall...I couldn't have been more than 4 or 5...we were there at closing time and they were announcing over the PA system that the mall was closing in five minutes.
I started to panic. I remember pulling at My Kid's hand (long before role reversal would take effect) telling her we had to hurry or else we'd get locked in and not make it home. She just laughed a little and said they wouldn't lock us in.
Years later, we were out shopping and on our way home on the other side of the river when we heard on the radio that barges had broken loose near the Braddock Dam. They were flowing freely down the river, hitting bridge abutments, and the police started to close the bridges to traffic, in case they would do some damage.
I told Mum that we had to get across to "our" side of the river no matter what. She drove like a madwoman (part of my road rage comes from her...the rest of it from my brother, but that's another story for another time) through traffic passing two bridges that had already closed before reaching a third, moments before police shut it down. I never mentioned to her my irrational fear. She just did what I asked, not questioning, just doing.
I know home wouldn't be going anywhere, deep down inside. The rational portion of my brain understand and accepts this as fact. However, fears are never rational.
The possibility exists that my car may...or perhaps will...break down at some point on my 250 mile journey back home today, leaving me stranded in the middle of God-knows-where, unable to get home.
Julie knows about this, and has told me that if it does happen, she and Travis will come get me.
It's the thought that I won't be able to make it home on my own, that there's a bit of unpredictability, that scares the shit out of me.
It's a little after 8 in the morning. Right now, I'm going to the lobby and have some breakfast. One of the advantages of this job is, when I'm staying at the hotel to work, they comp my room and I get free breakfast (as well as Internet) out of the deal. I'll eat, check in with the hotel staff to ensure everything's working properly, come back to the room, pack my last few things away, change into jeans, check out, and go to the car.
That much is certain. That much is guaranteed.
After that...I don't know what's going to happen. Maybe the car won't start, having chugged the last couple days here in Kokomo, and decided to do the right thing and die before I try and get on the road. Maybe it'll try to make it into the intersection and stop in a most inconvenient spot. There's no interstate between Kokomo and Lafayette, where I get on 65 to head North. It's all country road. Maybe it'll stop there, or stop when while I'm on the interstate.
Maybe it'll make it home, but somehow, Nature's Way is telling me that's not going to happen.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Kokomo
It's Wednesday morning, and I'm sitting in a Starbucks in Kokomo, Indiana.
Been thinking a lot lately about this job, the one that takes me so far from home.
When I was growing up, I always thought it would be cool to have a job where I'd be spending night after night in a hotel. Mind you, I thought it'd be working for some travel agency as a secret reviewer or some such, visiting hotels undercover to review their services.
If I was in my 20's, this would be a great job. Different cities every other night, life on the road, living out of a suitcase, no family, nothing to hold me down or keep me in one place.
Yet in less than two months, I turn 43. I'm not a kid anymore. I hear my knees pop and crack and feel the years in my bones. I know I'm getting older (let's not go into those old fears now, shall we), and this living on the road thing, while exciting at first, is getting old.
I have a home. I have a family. I have people who love me and care about me (even if they won't admit it, but that's cool). I miss being around them and being over 250 miles from them isn't where I want to be.
Then there's the issue of my car. My old Saturn is getting older and, given my financial situation (more on that at some point...not today) the odds of getting a new or used car is highly unlikely. I put more oil in her than is in the Gulf, I swear, and it seems like new problems pop up every week or so. What can I do? She rolled over 160,000 miles the other day.
This project won't last forever, I know this. Seems like this is gonna be the hardest part right now. This week, Lafayette and Kokomo. Next week, Evansville, IN, over 5 hours from home, and before August ends, I'll be out on the West Coast.
I can't quit (although I almost did yesterday...frustration over work almost had me call my boss and say I was walking away mid-install). It's a paying job and we need the money and I have no other prospects on the horizon. I still apply for jobs on a daily basis, only to hear nothing in return or else get the (rare) rejection letter.
Julie's frustrated as well. She's tired of me being away all week. Last week, she was off for two days, and I was close enough to home that I was able to sneak her away and hide her in the hotel with me. It was so nice, having her there, being able to spend time with her. That was the rarity, however...most of the time she can't come and I can't go home to be with her during the week because I'm just too far away.
I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm alone and I'm taking it out here in words because there isn't any other way for me to vent my frustrations.
I want nothing more than to have a job, a simple job, close to home, one that will pay the bills and maybe give us a little cash left over at the end of the week to maybe go see a movie or do something together as a family. I've learned I don't need much out of life. I want to live a simple life where I can sleep in on the weekend a little, spend time with my family and the woman I love.
Right now, I can't do that. I'm on the road, and the road is a cruel mistress. It's a dual-edged sword: Seeing new places, experiencing new things, can be a wonderful thing. I never thought I could say "I'm writing this from Kokomo". I never thought I'd see some of the places I've seen given what I do. There is a bit of an explorer in me, a wanderer (much like a certain character I once created). Despite my frustrations, I'm incredibly thankful for this job, this opportunity.
Yet the road takes me away from where I belong. I hear the call of the road, and I have to answer, with a heavy heart. Sure, I have my music and my laptop and places with free wi-fi and free hotels and breakfast every morning, and...
As I said, if I was a man of 20, of 30, with no obligations or family, this would be perfect for me.
I am not 20. I am not 30. I'm growing older...something I have accepted reluctantly...and this is not where I want to be.
I want to be home.
Comments are disabled for this post. I needed to rant. Thank you for just listening.
Been thinking a lot lately about this job, the one that takes me so far from home.
When I was growing up, I always thought it would be cool to have a job where I'd be spending night after night in a hotel. Mind you, I thought it'd be working for some travel agency as a secret reviewer or some such, visiting hotels undercover to review their services.
If I was in my 20's, this would be a great job. Different cities every other night, life on the road, living out of a suitcase, no family, nothing to hold me down or keep me in one place.
Yet in less than two months, I turn 43. I'm not a kid anymore. I hear my knees pop and crack and feel the years in my bones. I know I'm getting older (let's not go into those old fears now, shall we), and this living on the road thing, while exciting at first, is getting old.
I have a home. I have a family. I have people who love me and care about me (even if they won't admit it, but that's cool). I miss being around them and being over 250 miles from them isn't where I want to be.
Then there's the issue of my car. My old Saturn is getting older and, given my financial situation (more on that at some point...not today) the odds of getting a new or used car is highly unlikely. I put more oil in her than is in the Gulf, I swear, and it seems like new problems pop up every week or so. What can I do? She rolled over 160,000 miles the other day.
This project won't last forever, I know this. Seems like this is gonna be the hardest part right now. This week, Lafayette and Kokomo. Next week, Evansville, IN, over 5 hours from home, and before August ends, I'll be out on the West Coast.
I can't quit (although I almost did yesterday...frustration over work almost had me call my boss and say I was walking away mid-install). It's a paying job and we need the money and I have no other prospects on the horizon. I still apply for jobs on a daily basis, only to hear nothing in return or else get the (rare) rejection letter.
Julie's frustrated as well. She's tired of me being away all week. Last week, she was off for two days, and I was close enough to home that I was able to sneak her away and hide her in the hotel with me. It was so nice, having her there, being able to spend time with her. That was the rarity, however...most of the time she can't come and I can't go home to be with her during the week because I'm just too far away.
I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm alone and I'm taking it out here in words because there isn't any other way for me to vent my frustrations.
I want nothing more than to have a job, a simple job, close to home, one that will pay the bills and maybe give us a little cash left over at the end of the week to maybe go see a movie or do something together as a family. I've learned I don't need much out of life. I want to live a simple life where I can sleep in on the weekend a little, spend time with my family and the woman I love.
Right now, I can't do that. I'm on the road, and the road is a cruel mistress. It's a dual-edged sword: Seeing new places, experiencing new things, can be a wonderful thing. I never thought I could say "I'm writing this from Kokomo". I never thought I'd see some of the places I've seen given what I do. There is a bit of an explorer in me, a wanderer (much like a certain character I once created). Despite my frustrations, I'm incredibly thankful for this job, this opportunity.
Yet the road takes me away from where I belong. I hear the call of the road, and I have to answer, with a heavy heart. Sure, I have my music and my laptop and places with free wi-fi and free hotels and breakfast every morning, and...
As I said, if I was a man of 20, of 30, with no obligations or family, this would be perfect for me.
I am not 20. I am not 30. I'm growing older...something I have accepted reluctantly...and this is not where I want to be.
I want to be home.
Comments are disabled for this post. I needed to rant. Thank you for just listening.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
