I think I wet myself, again

I had two former employees get in touch with me on Wednesday to ask is they could use me as a reference.

Perhaps I should become a professional reference. I've always seemed to be better at helping other people get a job than I have been at getting jobs for myself. Perhaps that sounds odd, since I just started a new job myself. But I have always been more successful helping other people try to achieve their dreams than achieving my own.

But I take pride in being a teacher. Being a mentor. That's a pretty good gig and being a teacher of journalists, writers and photographers, is not always the easiest thing to do. People with an artistic temperament can be, well, temperamental.

I'm not sure I fit in the artistic category, but temperamental sure is tailor made. Not that I've been a hot-head lately, just lethargic and pessimistic. Perhaps that has shown in some of the blog posts. But I certainly haven't tackled the subject head on. I've been holding back, afraid to admit in black-and-white that I'm bored and unfulfilled.

For years I told myself I wanted to move back to the Northwest to be closer to my daughter, and I finally got an opportunity to do that. The job market isn't exactly sizzling here, and there aren't as many media outlets here as their are in California. Not as many as Southern California even. So, I'm fortunate to find something within an hour's drive of where my daughter lives.

I knew I was moving here for personal, not professional, reasons. Most of the job choices in my life were made to try to advance the career, or get experience to advance the career. And the family, and personal life, have suffered. So, this time I turned things on their head and made a professional choice for primarily personal reasons. And I'm flopping around like a fish out of water, ready to be wrapped up and taken home for someone's meal. The mouth keeps flapping, but there's no oxygen getting to the gills.

I've been trying to tell myself that everything is fine and I'm liking my situation. But telltale signs of stress are popping up. Drinking too much. A pinched nerve in the shoulder blade. Insomnia is coming back.

I am certainly seeing my daughter more, but it's not really quality time, like it has been in years past on my vacations. It's just time. Although, if I were honest with myself, the feeling I feel now after leaving her isn't a whole lot different that it has been after vacation visits. There's a sadness and emptiness there. So, maybe it's not so different after all. And yea, I know it's going to take some time. Yea, I know Rome wasn't built in a day and I know I can't erase 14 years of being apart in a few short weeks.

I'm just tired of feeling like this. I'm tired of feeling like the new kid at school, where everyone else knows the layout of the school, the routine and each other. It's second grade all over again.

A 7 year-old boy walks into Mrs. Harrison's second grade classroom, and feels the eyes of 20-plus kids turning, staring. If only he could melt into the floor. He's assigned to an empty desk, but it doesn't fit. He doesn't fit. The desk is too big. He is too small. His feet dangle above the floor and he can only reach solid ground by scrunching down in the seat and extending his toes.

At recess he cowers in the corner of the playground, wanting to be asked to play with the other kids and afraid to be approached at the same time. He fidgets, because he has to go to the bathroom, but doesn't know where it is, and doesn't know who -- or how -- to ask. And then it's too late. The telltale wet spot stains the front of his Toughskins. He walks up to the teacher to ask for help, but no words will come out of his mouth, only sobs exploding from his tiny chest.

The scared little boy eventually found a way to fit in. It wasn't a tailored fit, but not too bad for the off-the-rack world.

Maybe all I need is a new pair of Toughskins. And a clean pair of underwear.

Moving
Blogging

Survived week one

I made it through my first week of work on the new job. The hours are much more stable, and the ambient stress level much lower than my former job, and yet I'm exhausted. I'm not sure why.

I guess I was pretty stressed out anyway, just because I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing and don't know the daily or weekly routines I need to adopt. So, I don't feel like I was very productive. But, the week is done and the weekend is here, and I'm happy for that.

And, I've got a lot of the moving chores done, address changes and such, so that's a relief. I still have a few more things to do on that front, but for the most part, I'm getting settled.

Now, I am ready for a nap.

Moving
Work

Back connected to the wider world

Oh my fucking God! It seems like it has been forever since I've had Internet access. But I now have my own place and all utilities, including Web service connected.

I'm feeling more complete, and less out of touch. There were a few glitches with the Internet installation, so I've still got some issues to resolve, and I've got some chores to take care of, but I hope to be back to making regular posts, and catching up on some favorite blogs, soon.

For the record, moving is a major pain in the ass!

Moving

The right to remain seated

I attended my daughter's eighth-grade graduation this evening with several members of her family. I was very proud. My little girl will start high school in the fall. Pretty amazing.

At one point in the program they asked the parents of several of the students who are the last in particular families to graduate from this private school, or those who were the parents of only children. My daughter was one of those mentioned. I didn't stand up though. It didn't feel right for me to do so. Not that she would have seen from where she was sitting. And maybe none of the rest of the family would have thought anything about it, but they also didn't suggest I stand either. I just didn't feel like I'd quite earned that honor of recognition. It may be one of those moments that nags at me for years to come, but I just sat there, feeling a bit out of place, like I was in limbo or in another dimension of parenthood that isn't quite recognized here in this plane of reality.

I'm just glad I was able to be there for her and support her on her special day. Afterward we went out for a celebratory family dinner.

On the moving front, I finally got clearance on the criminal background check for the apartment complex I applied to live in earlier this week. I guess my criminal past is acceptable enough for them to take my money every month. So, Thursday I will go give them a check and pick up my key and start the arduous process of getting my stuff back out of storage and into my new place. Hopefully, by the end of the weekend I will be settled enough to at least pretend I have a life again. Whether I will have Internet access or cable TV remains to be seen. And who can live without those necessities in the modern world?

Milestones
Parenthood
Moving

Too much information

How long must we pay for old mistakes? Well, apparently 9 years isn't long enough to overcome an arrest for driving under the influence. Hell, even if I got stopped for the same offense now it would be considered a first offense. But, for the purposes of a criminal background check, that curse is still around my neck.

Yesterday I filled out an application for an apartment rental, and one of the questions on there was whether you've ever been arrested on any type of misdemeanors or felony charge. So, being an honest guy, I said yes, because of the DUI arrest detailed in two earlier posts, here and here.

They woman at the apartment complex said I could expect a call yesterday for the final approval. The call didn't come yesterday, but I did get a call this morning. However, the approval is still being held up by the criminal background check. I wonder if they would have been this thorough if I had been less honest.

I also wonder if I even needed to mention the DUI at all. What's the obligation for something like that? Maybe I need to talk to an attorney.

So, instead of picking up keys for a new place today I will be waiting for some indeterminate period of time for the approval. Maybe I should keep looking. It's a decent place, but it's not a perfect place. Or maybe I'll take the rest of the day to hang around Portland and do something not moving related.

Moving

What are those things in the sky?

After about 1,100 miles and 17 total hours of travel time, the trek to Oregon is completed.

I was greeted in the Salem/Portland area with the sky filled with large grey puffy objects that looked like soiled wads of cotton. I was told those were clouds, threatening rain. Funny, I don't remember seeing any of those on the entire drive up the spine of the Golden State.

The exposed skin on my arms and legs experienced an odd sensation upon exiting the vehicle. The skin had this tingling sensation and mysterious little bumps appeared all over the place. I have had a similar sensation when opening a refrigerator door or the air from the air conditioner blows directly on me. I guess that is cold. The radio report said the high temperature was in the 60s here about the time of my arrival.

Didn't anyone tell the weather gods in this part of the country that it is June? Isn't it supposed to be hot outside? It certainly was on Friday when I was carrying stuff from my old apartment to my truck. Did I drive through some passage to the Twilight Zone? I must have missed that sign somewhere along the way.

I also almost missed the "Welcome to Oregon" sign on my journey. My plan was to stop and take a photo of it for the blog, maybe even try to take a picture of myself in front of the sign. Unfortunately, the sign at the Oregon state line on Interstate 5 is on a curve as you are climbing the Siskiyou Mountains. I was in the left lane passing a slow-moving truck when the sign came into view. So, there was no way to pull over and stop in time without causing a crash. So, sorry folks, no photos of the momentous occasion of the prodigal Oregonian's return to the Beaver State. It was a poignant moment though.

All throughout the drive today I was flooded with memories of previous journey's up and down I-5, and previous traveling companions, including hung over frat brothers, a photographer buddy from college, and maybe even an old girlfriend or two.

It's good to be home. Even if it doesn't seem like home yet. I'm very much a stranger in a strangely familiar land.

Moving
Weather
Homecoming

The final push

The moving truck just pulled away with most of my belongings inside. All that's left is my computer, desk, chair, some clothes, and some miscellaneous stuff scattered about. Now the race is on to get this place cleaned, the last of my stuff loaded into my truck, and head north to find an apartment and beat the truck there.

So, the anxiety is not over. I'm too tired to clean, but that's what I really need to do. It will be a relief to get on the road. Although I'm still not looking forward to leaving the community that has been my home for five and a half years. But I'm going at a good time and for the right reasons. I'm going for my daughter, my family and for career advancement. I'm looking forward to the challenges ahead. Well, except for the cleaning and finishing up the packing.

The last part is always the worst part. It always seems to take longer than it seems it should. And the energy level is at low ebb. I didn't sleep much last night, maybe for a couple of hours. But there's no bed left here to sleep on anyway.

Maybe I'll feel rejuvenate after some lunch and some caffeine. A shower wouldn't hurt either.

This may be my last post for a while folks. I'll see you all on the other side of the Oregon state line.

Moving

No forwarding address

I've been calling to disconnect the various utilities and made a startling discovering. Once I cancel my DSL service, my e-mail address goes away. Disconnected and unplugged from the world.

How ever can I stay in touch with family and friends without e-mail? I figured I'd be able to sponge Internet access off of family and friends for a while until I got a new place and new services established, but that I would be at least able to access my mail until then.

Having no place to live for a while I can handle, having everything I own in boxes would be alright. But now e-mail address? How can that be? Say it ain't so!

It makes me wish I had kept my old dial up service.

Damn the technology gods!

Moving
Technology

The panic is setting in

The truck arrives Wednesday to pick up my stuff, such as it is. So, now the panic is setting in. We are down to the nitty gritty. Today, Tuesday, is the big push. Got a million errands to do, since everybody was off work on Monday for some sort of holiday. Poor working bastards.

There are benefits to being unemployed, other than the fact that I'm not quite sure when I'll be getting my next paycheck, which sucks. Think I could file for unemployment for being "between jobs?"

There are so many things I haven't got done, and it's starting to look like a lot of them just won't get done. I haven't spent nearly enough time by the pool for example, working on my tan. Can't move from Palm Springs to Oregon without a great tan, can you? I guess we'll find out.

I've been living for days surrounded by boxes, and tempted to crack in to a few of them to get at the shit I need, or think I need, that is now packed up and boxed away. Oh well, I've make it this long, I guess I can make it until the truck arrived. Then if I need something, I'm screwed until the truck arrives at the other end. Oh well. Life goes on.

Today is the big day for finishing up errands and finishing up the packing. Wednesday morning, it's time to pack up the bed and bedding. Everything else that doesn't go in the truck goes in my truck, and I haul myself. Then I need to give the ol' apartment a spit shine and the race is on to Oregon to find a place to live before the truck gets there (hopefully) or at the very least to find a storage unit.

I'm not looking forward to all of that frenzy, but I am looking forward to getting on the road. Getting the hell out of Dodge. Cruising north. Getting on Interstate 5 and not stopping until I reach Salem. OK, well, I'll stop somewhere. I actually will be stopping in the Sacramento area to visit a friend, and maybe resting for the night before heading on. I figure it is a two-day drive, if the ol' truck holds up.

The poor ol' girl is ready for a rest, and here I am asking her to drag my ass more than a thousand miles over two days. She deserves better for all her many years of service. Then, she may have to commute from Portland to Salem for a while until I find permanent housing. I hope she doesn't protest too much and continues to be my loyal and trustworthy chariot for a few more months. Then we can send her to a life of leisure.

My life of leisure is much further down the road. But the next stop on this crazy journey is Oregon. I'll be there this weekend (God willing and the creek don't rise or the truck don't die).

Look out Beaver State, I'm coming home.

I just love saying Beaver!

"Hi, I was graduated from Oregon State University."

"Is that the Ducks?"

"No, it's the Beavers! Ever kissed a Beaver?"

"You're getting kind of personal aren't ya?"

"Don't knock it til you've tried it. Did I ever tell you about the time...."

Moving

Food, friends and fun

I'm meeting up with my two best friends here in a couple of hours. We're going out for dinner and drinks one last time before I blow this popsicle stand and head to Oregon.

I stopped and picked up a couple of cards and a little gift for each of them. Seems so lame though. How do you thank friends for everything they do for us?

I don't know how to do it, but I wish I did. These two are a rare breed, and they've put up with my shit for years, so you know that deserves major compensation.

I'm looking forward to a good time with some good friends, and maybe a couple of tears. Hopefully theirs, not mine.

I'm such a sappy bastard. I'll probably blubber like an idiot. Oh well. It's not like they haven't seen that before.

Friends

Friend in need

The packers came from the moving company today. So most of my life is now packed away in boxes, ready for the long trip north. But they will sit waiting for another week before a truck arrives to carry them to my next destination.

They did the work, but I am exhausted. I predict a nap in my future. I stayed up until about 3 a.m. tossing out garbage and trying to prepare for their arrival. I should have stayed up a few minutes longer and unloaded the dishwasher though, because dishes in their this morning were still in there this afternoon after they moving guys left. I mentioned to one of the guys that there were still dishes in the dishwasher, but he wasn't the one who packed the kitchen. Oh well. It's not like I don't have a few boxes left to pack. They left out the TV, stereo, bedding and bed. And the computer of course. Can't go a week, sitting here in an apartment-turned-warehouse without my computer. There are still bills to pay, and address changes to make (even though I don't know where I'm going yet).

The moving guys took a break at noon, so I did as well. As I was returning home, my cell phone rang. One of my best friend's was on the phone and he had dreadful news. A friend of ours, who has just moved out of Palm Springs to be closer to her boyfriend, had called another mutual friend to tell him that her boyfriend had died last night -- apparent heart attack. He was a man in his mid-40s, fit and vibrant. And now he is gone.

She had just moved her stuff home last Friday, and now he is gone.

God certainly has a cruel sense of timing sometimes. The friend, a young woman in her mid 30s, has already lost her parents, now she loses the love of her life.

It's not right. It's not fair. More than that, it's just plain vicious.

I called her cell phone but she didn't answer. I'm not sure what words of comfort I could offer if she did answer. I stammered and stumbled through a phone message, trying not to sound as devastated as I feel for her. I offered to drive up north to help if I she needs anything. I don't know what help I can offer, but I'm not working, the truck won't be arriving for a week, I have the flexibility to help even if I am unsure how to offer aid.

Moving
Death

How many movers does it take... ?

I knew there would be some inconvenience and some major life disruption to moving, but I'm not sure whether to laugh for scream. Someday I may laugh, but screaming has the edge at the moment.

So, I finally hear back from the moving company this morning. I miss the call, so I have to call back. I get a woman on the phone and she says she'll have to call me back. She does, and then when we are trying to schedule things, she says she'll have to call me back again.

Then the woman who called to do my estimate calls, and asks if I still want them to pack my stuff, to which I say absolutely, because, well, because I can and someone else has agreed to pay for it, and I hate packing boxes. So the woman tells me the only day they have packers available is tomorrow. Of course, they can't tell me when the movers will actually come though, because there is some systemwide computer problem, but hopefully they will know by tomorrow when a truck might get here.

So, I may have to live among boxes for a week or so. Won't that be fun.

Insanity.

So, the mission for today is to finish throwing out crap I don't want moved to Oregon and sticking aside stuff I don't want packed into boxes, like clothes and such. The big question is, do I want them to pack up the computer? I would probably be much more productive without it. But also bored out of my head and unable to do any of the other things I need to do to arrange this move, like canceling utilities, apartment hunting, etc.

Ugh.

Moving

This was not the plan

I'm taking a little break from completely trashing my apartment. Why is it every time I am preparing to move I only seem to succeed at creating a big mess before it ever seems I make any progress.

Currently, I'm trying to sort through stuff and be a bit brutal about what to keep and what to pitch out. So far, I've opted to pitch out virtually the entire contents of three boxes I lugged up the stairs to this apartment a year ago and never bothered to unpack. Some of them contain stuff I haven't really looked at or needed in about 10 years or more.

The day did not start out as I had planned. The first order of business today was to call the movers to schedule the move. But it seems the woman who did my estimate didn't leave any of her paperwork at the office, so the people at the office said the estimater needed to call me back. So I spent way too much time tethered to my phone and accomplishing nothing while waiting for the return call. Sometime I am way too linear in my methods. I try to do first things first, and when I hit a roadblock, I'm not bright enough to find a detour. I just sit there waiting for the road to be reopened. That was not an effective strategy today. So I haven't got much accomplished.

I called the movers back a few hours ago, and the woman I needed to talk to still wasn't in. It's not looking good for a return phone call today, since it is rapidly approaching 5 o'clock. So I'm frustrated, and still don't know what day the movers might get here, if they can pack my crap, or when I might be able to hit the road. And if I do have to pack my own stuff, I'm not making very good progress, although hopefully, when my sorting chores are done, I will have significantly less junk to for me, or someone else, to box up. If I'm smart, I'll get rid of a bunch of clothes I no longer wear anymore either.

OK, break's over. Back to work.

Moving

Try this on for size

The traditional gift for someone retiring after a career with a company used to be a gold watch. But what's the appropriate gift to give someone over lunch with colleagues after 5 years of employment?

Thong underwear!

Or at least that's what I'm assuming, because that what a so-called friend from work gave me on my last day at work. Obviously they weren't for me to wear because, first off, they are women's undergarments, and secondly they are way too small (as if a thong by its very nature can ever be considered not too small).

I think it was his smartass way of getting me back for making the comment the last time we were in this establishment that he needed some of those.

You would think if he were a true friend, he wouldn't have given me two empty thongs! He could at least have gotten them filled for me.

The bastard.

I've included a photo of the apparel in question (well, not the actual thongs, because these are on mannequins and mine, as I said, were empty (except for the brief period where I wore the red pair on my head).

And no I wasn't drunk. I hate to think what might have happened if I was.

But there will be drinking tonight!

Update: There was no drinking. I went straight home after work. The drinking waited until Saturday.

The latest in goodbye gift apparent. Thongs featuring a sports bar's logo.

Thongs
Going away gifts

The last day

Mercifully, and mercilessly, the last day with my current employer has arrived. There is so much stuff I had intended to have done by now that is not. And I feel guilty. But in about 13 hours, it probably really won't matter. I can only get done what I can get done and then it will be time to move on.

I set the alarm again last night to get up "early." This morning's pre-work chore is an appointment with an eye doctor. Then I am schedule to go to lunch with colleagues and friends from work for the traditional going-away lunch. I've attended I don't know how many of those over the years here. But always for other people. Today is mine. And if my doctor's appointment runs long, I will be late. How embarrassing.

A half decade of my live comes down to a few days, and now to a few hours. So much I wanted to say. Wanted to do. Now, I just want a nap. Or better yet a full 8-10 yours of sleep.

Moving

Dancing on the snooze button

I don't know if this is the end of a very long day, or the beginning of what promises to be another long day. Today I am going in to work about 4 hours earlier than normal to train some staff members to do at least some of the stuff I do now, since I won't be there to do those things after Friday.

I am really wanting a good case of short-timer's disease right now. You know, short-timer's is that affliction that hits people when they've given their notice, know they are leaving, and just don't give a shit anymore. Getting an hour's work out of someone with short-timer's is pretty much a major fucking accomplishment. And here I am, the major moron, putting in extra hours this week. What is wrong with this picture?

Well, I'm off to bed so my alarm can wake me up at another ungodly hour. Well, on the bright side, this may be the start of resetting my body clock, since I will have to be reporting to work at 8 a.m. in the new gig, which is only 6 hours before my current start time.

I'm beginning to think I didn't ask enough questions in my job interview. But then, maybe that will mean I will get off work 5 or 6 hours earlier than I do now as well.

Moving
Work
Mornings

They came to evaluate my miserable existence

The alarm went off at 7 a.m., a short few hours after I finally made it to bed. Company was coming. Well, not company exactly, but some people who wanted to poke around my closets and cabinets and put a value on how much it would cost to move the accumulation of nearly 40 years of trinkets from one state to another.

Sometimes I think I have way too much stuff. Sometimes, I feel like I don't have much to show for a lifetime of living. Mostly I think I have too much stuff that looks more like it belongs in a college dorm room than in an adult's apartment.

My couch I bought as my first furniture purchase after graduating from college in 1989. I am probably still paying interest on that $300 purchase today. The recliner came a little later, when I had paid down the credit card balance enough to fit that on there. Most of the rest of my furniture has been given to me by family or friends.

Before the people from the moving companies were scheduled to arrive, I hauled some newspaper, probably a couple hundred pounds worth, down to the recycle bin. I bet if I looked somewhere in one of the stacks that's still left in my apartment, I probably have newspapers in there dating back to last summer, shortly after I moved in. I wish I were one of those people that cleaned up right after making a mess, took out my trash and recyclable stuff every time I traipse down the stairs. But I don't. And one day becomes the next. And stuff stacks up.

I have a fear of becoming one of those people you hear about every few years being found trapped in their own apartment, when a large stack of newspapers, magazines and junk mail collapse on top of them or cut off their path to the door, like this guy.

OK, I'm not that bad. There is plenty of open floor space in my apartment. But then I've only lived here about a year. But there was enough of that guy in me to freak out my ex. She confessed at one point that I reminded her of one of her elderly relatives, who I met on a vacation trip a couple of years ago. He had a walking path through stacks of papers in his room. He also had stuff stacked, and apparently stored, on top of his bed, leaving a little strip of space for him to lay down on one side of the bed.

I'm not that bad either. Maybe that's just because my career choices have lead to moving every few years, which has provided opportunities to pitch out newspapers, magazines and junk mail.

So anyway, the people came to see my collected mishmash of bric-a-brac. Sooner or later, my stuff may actually make it on a truck for the trek to Oregon. And if it arrives, life will pick up in a new town and a new apartment with rent being paid from a new job.

If I live that long. And if I get a nap.

Moving

Moving prep update

I've got two moving companies coming tomorrow morning for estimates on moving costs. They are coming way too early in the morning (for someone who doesn't get home from work until midnight most nights), but time is growing short, so I took the first available appointments. So, If I'm smart, I'll go to bed right when I get home and there will be no blogging after work tonight.

For the record, no one has ever accused me of being smart, especially when it comes to going to bed early, not wasting time, etc.

I also made an appointment with an eye doctor to get my eyes checked. I know I need new glasses. I've worn glasses since I was 3 or 5.

I don't know what happened. I used to get my eyes checked once a year. But I've only got them checked twice in the last 10 years. I wonder if the fact that my mother no longer schedules my doctor's visits explains why I so rarely see the eye doctor, medical doctor and dentist.

Nah. I think it just means I'm much healthier than I was as a child!

Moving
Blogging
Procrastination

Three more to go

I'm on a mission.
I need to find blogs that start with the letters U, X, and Z that are worthy of being added to my Blogroll.

Then I will have blogs that start with every letter of the alphabet. So if you have any suggestions, send them my way.

And yes, I know I should be packing or cleaning in preparation for my move to Oregon. Or I should be finishing my column. Or maybe sleeping so I can get up early and get stuff done before work.

Quite fucking nagging me already!

This Blogroll thing was important. Who can pack or meet a column deadline with an incomplete Blogroll?

My laundry is about done. Don't I get any credit for productivity today?

OK, OK, I'm going back to work. You people are fucking brutal task masters. I'm not even sure why I hang out with you!

I can't handle the constant guilt trips!

Blogging
Procrastination
Moving

Sunday rushing by

Somehow, I need to get my life together, boxed and shipped to another state in the next few weeks. Time it moving way too fast and I'm getting farther behind by the second.

Someone slow this mutha down!

Moving
Weekend
Blogging