Author: sean

For whatever reason, when I woke up, and decided to write this morning, I had trouble finding this entry.

I did find what I’d written the past few years. Holy shit 2016 sucked.

*steps aside to look*

Now that I found the draft of today’s, on to it….

if you could change one thing in your life what would it be and why? (reach-back to 2010)

Finally found what I wrote back then after some searching….

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Day 22 — Uhhmm – 11/22/2010

It was a foggy and chilly morning, I’d just been asked, if you could change one thing in your life what would it be and why?

Uh, yeah. Do I need to explain?

At the same time, I wonder what my life would have been like without MS.

Similarly, I’ve wondered what life would be like had I been diagnosed much sooner.

Still, I really can’t dwell on either. Either one would have sent my life on a much different trajectory, and, for all the struggles, I am happy. I’m respected in my profession. I have a wonderful wife, who I love dearly. If I’d been 100% healthy earlier, probably neither would have happened. I might be in the military. I might be an attorney. I might be that guy I always see at the office Christmas party (which, BTW, I am NOT attending this year. Fuck ’em.) spinning bad music as a side gig, because he didn’t make it in top-40 radio.

Who knows?

And who really cares?

(Excuse the exasperation…. another day of just really lousy conversation starters. I thought about looking at these before I went to bed last night, but they’d probably have put me in a foul mood. Three days only this week. Yay. I was below the target weight again yesterday. My doctor, the one who told me to come see her immediately if I dropped below my target, isn’t scheduled to work in my clinic this month….she’s a resident, so she rotates in to the main hospital….but I figure that if I don’t gain something this week after stuffing my face Thursday, that yeah, there’s something really wrong. It can wait a bit.)

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The elephant standing on my belly (yes, I have a pretty odd case of the MS hug this morning), I mean, in the room is the same. This condition has affected so much of my life, and I don’t know that there’ll ever be a time when it doesn’t.

Still, since I can’t put a numb finger on an exact start date, it’s impossible to pin down exactly what I would have done differently to mitigate the symptoms I was having. I can’t point to something in, say, 1992, and correct it. What was I worried about back then? I was thirteen. Sports. School. Girls. What was happening in the world. What was happening in my country, halfway around the world.

So, saying, “not have MS” would be easy, but there’s so many other things that influenced why I am what I am.

MS aside, though, I don’t know that there is one thing. (And there I go again with the inability to choose something, anything.) What’s happened to me has happened, and I try to react as best I can in the situations presented going forward.

This gets in to a discussion I recently had with one of my doctors. I’m not someone who plans things down to the smallest detail. Get the biggest things finished, then figure out the smaller particulars later.

Tying it back, then, to football, and this might speak to my dislike of the vaunted “West Coast Offense” teams, with the masterminds who script the first number of plays for each game.

I think that’s foolish. If your third play is listed as a long pass play (with only about a 30% chance of success), how does doing that make the least bit of sense when what you’re presented is a third-and-two. This is even more true when you’ve got someone like Leroy Hoard on your bench.

But back to the prompt, I don’t know that there’s a single thing I’d do differently, or change. All I can do is continue to try to react to the situations presented. My reaction mechanisms have been negatively affected, of course, but I still don’t foresee myself ever doing something I’m going to regret forever.

Halftime free-write

I didn’t really plan this well considering I had a free write just a couple of days ago.

Whatever. I will get through this, because it helps me keep thoughts straight, and I’m halfway finished.

In the background, I’m listening to the Attorney General’s speech. Right in some ways, wrong in lots of others. And I should be killed because I don’t choose one side or the other. *shrug*

I. Don’t Care.

That sentiment, of course, is the biggest bit of my “problem” right now.

There’s lots of places where I could go with my life, but I don’t really care.

Whatever.

18:05 < kcrow> the world womders
18:10 <@sean> we are the world

That ought to explain how much attention I’m paying.

*wanders away to order dinner*

Anyway, back to the point, I do lots of things just because I’ve committed to doing them. I’ve foregone all sorts of things the past few years. I do listen to Adam Corolla. He often speaks about the benefits, for a boy, in learning to delay gratification.

He speaks of how boys end up with great affection, admiration, for adult men who put them through hell. That football coach who made you run until you puked. That drill sergeant who did the same.

And this, again, is going nowhere. Maybe. So, one of the unused prompts.

Are you afraid to confront your demons?

Nope. A lot of what I’m doing with my mental health bits speaks to, again, resisting those urges. They don’t work anymore, anyway.

I’m going to stop now, as I really don’t think this is going anywhere.

Halfway through. Keep pressing.

Free-write

I used to really look forward to these, notsomuch today.

A lot of the reason is that I’m so incredibly busy.

Certainly, given my spotty employment history over the past few years, that’s not a bad thing.

So, what have I been doing? Trying to figure out a problematic utility in a makeshift environment. In the background is usually a teleconference, or a podcast.

Not thinking about my failing fantasy football teams.

I will say that I’m happy to be in my own place.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so content with where I am, and this speaks a bit to what I was talking about recently (yesterday, maybe? I’m too lazy to go look; apologies.).

There could be bad things coming. There could be really good things coming. I can’t get too excited either way.

Another way I’m broken, perhaps.

I was going to say that I couldn’t even get all that excited about the Steelers playing in Cleveland tonight. But I did go check the weather. No snow, unfortunately.

(As an aside, football in the snow is great so long as you’ve got good traction. I’d imagine it’d be a royal pain if you were slipping all over the place. See the Leon Lett video I posted about Thanksgiving last year…..)

So I guess I am paying a bit of attention. But it hasn’t been enough to get me excited enough to setup the good TV in the living room. Yet.

I was watching some game over the weekend, and did notice the remarkable number of empty seats in the stadium. Given that I think it was a game in Cincinnati, you could place some of the blame on how bad that team is. Again. Like Coslet-LeBeau bad.

But, yeah, barring temperatures like during “The Freezer Bowl,” winter weather and football do mix.

Back to TV, since this is all-skate free-write. I got distracted there for a minute, and my wife brought up the big TV after saying she, too, wasn’t interested in the Stilluhrs-Browns. The good TV might get done this weekend, mainly because she’s curious about whether the movers broke it.

The discussion also included some on streaming services. One of the gusts I heard today was pitching this. But I don’t even have time to watch what I already pay for.

I am curious, however, to know if there’s something out there that has, maybe, some stories that’ll get my scarred brain more in the writing mode.

It’s been a long time since I attempted any storytelling. Maybe it’s time.

Write about your biggest fears (reach-back to 2010).

This is what I wrote back then:

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Day 15 — Facing Fears – 11/15/2010

I am not a corageous person by any means.

That said, I’ve had to face down many fears over the past year. I just can’t be afraid of little silly things anymore.

For example, look at some of the later pictures in Day 13. I hate needles. No tattoos or piercings here. Even more than that, no tracks on my arms…..

But I have to take an injection every single damned day. Having the gun helps somewhat, as I don’t actually see the sharp until after I’m finished.

I’m trying to come up with something else, but falling way short. There’s so many things I was uncomfortable about before that seem just nonsensical these days. And I have more than just me to worry about now. But I have someone with whom I can share those things. Never once has she ridiculed me, or thought I was being a baby. I don’t make this stuff up. Do I worry more than I ought to? Sure. Is that fear? I don’t know.

But with that, and I’m not sure if this is fear or pride, I’m much less uncomfortable asking for help these days. I’m not Superman. There’s shit I can’t do. Maybe at one time I thought I could do most anything……

Fear of falling…
Fear of failure…
Fear of losing my hair…
I’ve got to get it together, man…
It hasn’t happened yet….

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So much has changed in nine years.

One of my biggest complaints nine years ago was about needles. Today, I don’t give a shit.

Hurt me/hurt me/I know, right?/as if!

Thank you, Zappas.

Anyway, I’m in a very strange place. It could be attributable to many things, but I rarely fear any consequences. Where I am now, certainly there’s things I’m concerned about, but I rarely get too wound-up about anything.

Going back to the last, however, I know there’s a lout less I can do now than I could do then.

Understanding my limitations, both physical and emotional, does definitely affect what I attempt. Back in 2010, I would have said I can’t run a marathon, but I could do a few miles. Now, I can barely walk a block. Consequently, I wouldn’t frustrate myself even planning to compete in a marathon.

The past decade, however, I’ve dealt with prosperity, as well as incredible hardship.

But I’ve survived.

And don’t really think there’s anything I would enjoy. So I don’t want much, if anything.

My wife’s family was asking what I might want for Christmas.

Socks. That’s about all I can think of. Seriously.

Do men or women have it easier in our culture? If so, why do you think so?

The original draft of this said, “two men, or women.” I literally can’t even.

I think that I had something in mind. I probably wrote something about this at some point in the past, but I’m too lazy to go look for it. Was that mansplaining?

Snark aside, how relevant is this when anyone can choose his/her/its own gender, and it’s nearly child abuse to point a young person towards a particular identity?

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. I have to go get my infusion.

Veterans’ Day

101 years since the Western Front went quiet.

I can vaguely recall my dad taking us driving around The Somme battlefield. I would have been something like seven or eight years old, and the concept that a million people died there was just incomprehensible.

As I’ve gotten older, I think I’ve come to recognize just what a disaster for Europe, and the entire world, World War I was.

As I dressed for my appointment this morning, the local NBC affiliate had video of vintage planes dropping poppies over Dover.

I worry that the history of it is lost on most Americans. OK, Boomer, I get that you knew more people who fought in World War II. Bubuhbut Tom Brokaw said they’re the greatest generation!!1!

Understood.

That you didn’t learn, or teach, anything about WWI is completely on you.

I do distinctly remember my great-grandmother telling the story of marrying my great-grandfather during the break between basic training and deployment. This was despite the company commander’s direction that they not go get married.

So much of what’s happened in the world since, I think, can be traced to that war.

As for the veterans, my father was career Army. My father-in-law was career Navy. Much of what I do, now, is in support of the Army and Marine Corps. Previously, I, personally, have supported the Navy and Air Force.

One of the cooler things I’ve happened across in the past few weeks is ABMC. Yes, I saw a few of those as a kid. (And I’d really like to work for them if any recruiters come looking….)

Describe how you would manage your own radio or TV station.

I started in on a list of things, but, you know, I do understand that I really don’t know where I’d even start these days. On the rare occasions I’ve been in a car lately listening, I’ve heard the music stations going to something like twelve-minute stop sets. How the hell do you keep people around at all with that?

I seem to remember the goal of a commercial broadcaster being enticing the listener to stay around long enough to hear some commercials.

Whenever I’m listening to a podcast of a radio show, there’s normally a live read in the first segment, a break at the bottom half, then maybe two spots in the second half of the show.

I still do make it a point not to go out of my way to avoid commercials.

I can remember the big thing with MythTV was that you could actually automatically skip commercials. I never did that; selling spots is how broadcasters (and podcasters) earn their money. Recently I’ve bought things ranging from a security system, to socks, to fruitcake.

I guess, though, one of the big things that’s changed is the nature of audiences, who are more likely today not to worry so much about things being in real-time. I know people who watch most sporting events hours, if not days, delayed.

Would watching the Failcons fail to fail at the Superdome be any more disappointing if it was delayed? Or, since it wasn’t on here, than watching it live?

But the Redskins didn’t lose today, so there’s that, I suppose.

I’m really not feeling this today, for a variety of reasons. That we’ve not finished unpacking is probably a major consideration.

Tomorrow’s prompt might prompt me to write more.

Write about what you think you will be like and what you will be doing 10 years or 20 years from now.

Given my paternal history, combined with my physical condition, the answer is probably, “dead.” My father’s father was 54 when he died. My dad was 59. Given the pattern you see there, you’d say 64 for me, which is more than twenty years later. But when you calculate in the average ten years of life that MS normally takes off, I’m back to dying at 54. But if I can make it to 71, there’s a chance I’ll live forever.

The longer answer, and more to the question is, “I have absolutely no idea.”

I probably won’t have any kids. I hope I’m still married. I hope I’ll have been able to work to retirement, but who knows? I think now, at 40, I’ve lived long enough to know, ultimately, who I am, and what my character is.

I retreat. I get lost when htings are going wrong. To me, there’s nothing wrong with declaring defeat, and moving on to something else.

Have there been exceptions? Sure. (see: staying with the same woman for thirteen-plus years, almost ten of those as a married couple.)

I apologize; I’m distracted. We just moved in to our new place. I am now residing inside the Capitol Beltway. So I’m really not focused. Hopefully my residence, here, will let some of the innovative folks at Georgetown SOM use me as a guinea pig.

Birthday Tres

Today is my mother’s birthday. Yes, three days after her father, two after my younger brother.

When it comes to the date, it’s almost as if there was some sort of event in February that might prompt people to form babby.

She’s still down visiting her dad for his birthday on Monday. So what to write about? I don’t even know, really. I’m kinda spent after my missive about recruiters earlier on control-h.org/.

I think the guy who I called after writing that called me back, but I was too busy to answer.

Apology delivered, or something. Whether it was accepted, I don’t know. It’s like my parents taught me something, or something.

At the same time, I really don’t care whether it was accepted. I did feel bad about upsetting him, but he’s making money off what I view as an unconscionable system.

I’m taking tomorrow off to help pack for our move on Saturday. I’m still very much of the let-someone-else-do-it, and sort everything out later mentality. Part of a life spent with the Army. My mother had likely never been east of Pensacola, or west of Houston when she got on an airplane to go be with her Infantry 2nd Lieutenant husband whose unit had been moved out of Vietnam to Japan.

Fingers crossed that we should be finished with pretty much everything by a week from now.