Innocence Maintained

Let’s just be honest, Jewel isn’t the pinnacle of artistic music. And while I’ve seen her live 5 or 6 times and own every album she’s ever made, she can be that kind of faux artsy best exemplified by most cast members of “The Real World.” And for the record, I’m talking about back when they didn’t just sleep with each other. (Shout out to the New Orleans and Seattle cast!!) She has a voice that grates on most of my friend’s nerves and many of her “deep” insights are trite at best. However, there is a line from one of her songs that has stuck with me. “Innocence can’t be lost, it just needs to be maintained”.

I’ve used that as kind of a personal motto for about 10 years now. I frequently throw that line out when explaining why I can’t watch violent movies. I use that sentence when ranting about how movies are just getting bloodier and gorier because we are becoming desensitized. It’s also one of the reasons why I get my news from NPR. I don’t need to see the bleeding corpses in Afghanistan, just let me know what happened.

I never really thought that my career would be one that made me actively work to maintain my innocence. However, the first phone call I ever made as an adjuster was on a fatality claim where the driver had been killed and the passenger survived. I had no idea. I don’t remember the name of the guy I had to call. I only remember that he was a bit younger than me. I was 24 at the time. I was told to call the passenger and confirm what happened in the accident and make sure he wasn’t injured. It was a single vehicle accident, so I didn’t think that it could be all that bad.

Imagine my surprise when my chipper self is met with a guy screaming “My best friend fucking died in the seat me beside me. How the fuck do you THINK I am?” I got off the phone as quickly as possible and immediately had a little breakdown. I could play the “shouldn’t that have been a cosmic sign to get the hell out” game all day, but I’m still here, so what’s the point?

I had to make a phone call to a mother today. Her son was killed in an accident this morning. This lady must have the resolve of Queen Elizabeth, because she didn’t seem phased at all. I’m sure she’s in shock. The guy was about a month younger than me. I know my mom would be devastated.

I felt terrible calling to tell her they had liability only and I couldn’t help them with the car. I could pay for the fence he damaged and I’d get the police report and find out who owned it. I felt like those things were so trivial. So cold and corporate. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug her and be my usual sympathetic self. However, we had “business” to attend to and that was the point of my call. Plus, my company obligates me to call her back within 2 hours of reporting the accident.

I’m going to visit one of my former professors tonight who I know will be great to talk to about how I'm feeling about all of this. I’m hoping that she will have some wise words to say that will help me deal with all of the thoughts going through my head about all of this. (What have I/am I becoming? How did I end up doing this? How do I get out? Etc.)

But probably more, I’d like to tell a mother that was on the other end of my phone a little while ago, I hope you realize that I wasn’t as uncaring as I probably seemed.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I will start this by saying that the rest of this post might likely turn into platitudes and I will also admit that it is kind of off topic from the rest of the blog.

The “coming out” process is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. I’m using present tense on purpose. It was more than 8 years ago that I actually came out to my mom. It was a mess of an over the phone conversation on my sister’s couch one morning. It continues to be a struggle. Once the words “I’m gay” came out of my mouth, she and I reached a never verbalized agreement to just never speak of it again. So, I live my normal life with my friends, co-workers and even the Twitterati where I’m perfectly out and everything is fine. Then there is the life I have with her where we talk and share our lives with each other, except for that one little piece that I withhold.

I started writing this because I’ve just been exchanging text messages with a friend who is coming out to his mom. He is just a bit older than me and has actually lived with his boyfriend for several years. He’s just never actually said the words “I’m gay” to his mother.

I know someone else who is younger and is just going through the “should I or shouldn’t I come out” process. He had worked up the courage to do it a few days ago, but when he saw his mom, she had some other family news/drama to discuss and so he tabled the conversation for another day.

I’m actually really scared for both of them. I would hate for these guys to lose that closeness, that connection and that unconditional love that only a mom can give.

Obviously, the situation may go differently for these two. I certainly hope it does. However, coming out to my mom was the first time I’d ever seen disappointment in her eyes. It was the first time I’d ever felt like I’d truly hurt her. It ended up being a giant wedge driven into our relationship and I sometimes wish I could take it back.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly happy and content being who I am. I have no guilt or reservation in being what I was created. I just wish that there was some way for me to be that and also still “a good son” in my mother’s eyes. I was watching “Glee” the other night and one of the characters came out to his dad. He was met with a hug and acceptance. I bawled like a 2 year old on the sofa. Wouldn’t it be great if real life could be like TV?

****

Even in 2009 it takes courage to be out, so big hugs to both of the guys I talk about here and to all my gays and the girlz (and the odd straight guy) who love us.

M-A-R-C-O and Marco was his name-o

I will dedicate this blog post to my friend Jimmy who told me this was starting to become jupiter uninspired.

So everyone has their albatross, right?

I think it’s safe to say that mine is the automobile. Since I was a kid I’ve always had a fascination with cars. My favorite toys were my entire laundry basket full of Hot Wheels. Yes, Hot Wheels and only Hot Wheels, I would have never had Matchbox. I’ve always had very strict preferences and standards. My other favorites were my Transformers ‘cuz c’mon robots that became cars??? How frickin’ cool is that? I also had quite an affinity for my Olivia Newton John records, but that’s another post for another day.

I’m 29 years old and I’ve had 6 cars that I would consider mine. In high school, I drove my mom’s car, but I named her so I’m including her on my list. Her name was Tawanda Taurus. It’s more story than you care to hear about how she got her name, but all you need to know is that it is related to the “Fried Green Tomatoes” film and that when you hit the gas the front seat would detach from the floorboard and fly backwards. I’ve also had Corey Corsica, Hiram Hyundai, Francois Focus, Joshua Jetta and presently I drive Marco Murano.

I’ve never felt that any car I had was showy. I’ve certainly never thought that my car would impress anyone and I’ve never wanted it to. However, I’ve gone through a succession of cars and each one with their respective payments. I’ve always said, “when I pay off this one, I’ll be able to quit my job and go do what I really want to do”. However, due to ignorance on my part or poor craftsmanship on Ford’s part, I’ve yet to pay off any of them.

So, now I’m stuck with Marco. And don’t get me wrong, I like him. He’s a big, obnoxious SUV and I should have had to show proof of my family of 5 before they let me drive him off the lot, but I actually traded in Joshua to reduce my payments. But I’m still a long way from paying Marco off and I can’t help but resent him just a bit. He may have a sunroof for when it’s warm out and he may have heated seats for when it’s cold, but he is also a barrier to making me happier with life.

I had a frank conversation with a friend the other day who told me that the only thing that could possibly prevent me from going back to school was “how I’d keep paying for the car”. So, I’m afraid that without some breakthrough that I can’t forecast right now, I’m stuck where I am. I should at least get some Olivia on my iPod. I bet she’d sound great on Marco’s Bose speakers.

Cuz Why Not Share?

Here's the story of my little accident this morning. I can't stress how minor it really was. But, a story, nonetheless.

So I go to the Dunkin Donuts this morning to get donuts for the office. I get those and start heading into work. For some reason, the police have the street blocked. There are cones and sawhorses everywhere. The road is a general clusterf*$k. Papaw in front of me (in a Buick Roadmaster woody wagon) gets all befuddled and can't decide what to do. So, he does the natural thing and decides to abort mission and back up. So, here I sit in morning traffic downtown and Pappy's got his reverse lights on. I'm on the horn like it's my job and Pappy just keeps on comin'.
He obviously did not put the hearing aid in when he left the house this morning. There is a police officer standing at the street that is blocked and he hears me honking. He looks over just in time to see Pappy backing and coming at me. Pappy then hits the front of my car. He then throws it into drive and drives away. I can't get my head out of the car fast enough to yell at the officer "HE JUST HIT ME!!!".

Insurance adjuster in me kicked in and I've already memorized his plate number. The officer radios it in and I pull over. Pappy apparently gets stopped somewhere down the road by another officer and comes back.
He arrives smoking and in a t shirt that says "Been There, Done That". I can attest, he indeed has. He informs me that he has never had a wreck. I'd guess his age is apx somewhere between 75 and 900. So, if the last thing on his list was to get in an accident...success, Pappy!!. You have now been there and done that, literally....everything.
Anyway, a claim is already set up with his insurance. It's a company that I deal with frequently, so I'll hear from them in 2 weeks, if I'm lucky.

But, like I said, it's minor and I'm in no hurry. Thanks to all that inquired about me this morning and sorry for it sounding a little more dramatic than it was when I sent out the first tweet.

Melt it down, you're gonna have to eventually anyway

I’ve managed to not go to work proper today. I woke up feeling terrible and worked from home. This left me with a good bit of time to stay home and think. Apparently, time spent alone on the sofa all day with nothing on TV besides football leads to deep thinking and blog posts.

A little back story: I double majored in English and Political Science. I originally went to college thinking that I would go on to law school and then do something in the realm of Politics. I’ve never really had the ambition of being a politician, but I can be a bit of a policy wonk. I started taking Political Science classes my first semester of college and was about halfway through the required courses by the end of my sophomore year. However, I had a life changing experience in a general education British Lit survey class. I discovered poetry.

I fell in love with Romantic and Modern poetry and had an actual bring me to tears, pace the dorm room for about thirty minutes, chills running down my arms experience after reading the “The Waste Land” by TS Eliot. I can actually still read it and have a fairly intense experience.

So, I added my English major in order to further delve into words and poetry and find an outlet for the creative part of myself that had finally found its medium. I was so far into the Political Science major that I just kept it as well. I set my sights on getting into grad school and getting my PhD in English. The thought of getting to spend the rest of my life studying poetry and sharing my love for it with other people seemed like the perfect life.

Up to this point in life, I’d managed to attain every goal I’d set for myself. Granted, I was all of 21 years old during this time, but I’d been reasonably successful for someone my age. The thing is: I’d barely had to try. I’m not trying to come off too egotistical and Lord knows I don’t have a superiority complex. However, I’d never studied for a test, barely did “homework” and really hadn’t put a lot of effort into my college experience. I still graduated with a 3.5. I had just assumed that like everything else in life that I wanted, I’d just get into a grad school and continue on my merry way.

That didn’t happen.

I applied to four schools and didn’t get into any of them. I had been working part time as a teller at a bank my senior year of school and reluctantly went full time after college. This was the first real setback that I had ever experienced. To say that I was depressed is an understatement.

I’ll skip a lot of story, but fast forward to now. I’m 29 and I’ve been working as an insurance adjuster or 5 years. This is not at all where I thought I would be. I’ve resolved that I’m going to make changes in my life and finally get to a place where I’m significantly happier with where I am. And here’s what I think I know: I was meant to be on a college campus. I have friends who work for my alma mater and just being on campus has a “this is home” feeling. I know it sounds kind of cheesy, but I feel like something is telling me that is where I belong.

While in Nashville recently, we went through Vanderbilt’s campus and the same thing happened. I just wanted to get out of the car and walk around, because something just felt like it was where I needed to be. I frequently go for walks through UK’s campus, because something draws me in and while traveling for work to various cities, I always find the areas near a campus and spend my free time there.

However, I don’t quite think the English route is where I’m supposed to go. When I look at my transcript I see that I got nothing but As in my Political Science classes and my one and only C was in my Chaucer class. I’ve stayed interested in Politics since college following what is going on internationally, nationally and in the past few months really watching what is going on locally. It’s been a long time since I’ve picked up any of my books of poetry.

So now the questions: Given my desire to want to be in a college/academic setting, do I need to try to get into grad school for Political Science? Am I too old? Have I missed my opportunity? Can I get in? Am I smart enough? I looked at a few grad school’s websites today and I have to say, I’m overwhelmed. I’m scared. I’m doubting myself. I’m wondering if I’m really going in the right direction if I pursue that. Is there a way to know that for sure?

All things to ponder on and I certainly don’t know where I go to find the answer. Though, I have to note that the only thing saved on my DVR right now are last week’s Sunday morning political talk shows and my iPod decided that it wanted to play “You Learn” by Alanis Morissette as I am wrapping this up.

“Throw it down/the caution blocks you from the wind/hold it up/to the rays/you wait and see when the smoke clears/you live, you learn”

Process of Elimination

I’ve spent way too much of my 29 years in medical facilities. I’ve broken 4 bones, dislocated more knee caps than I can count, been hospitalized at least 5 (if not more) times and I’ve had two organs removed. The gall bladder was earlier this year and I had my appendix taken out on my 16th birthday. I’m fairly certain that but for the talents of various medical professionals, natural selection should have already taken care of me.

I’m spending today going to doctor’s appointments with my mother. Her medical adventures are more than I can chronicle here. I’ve been with her for a good portion of those, too. I can’t even begin to spell most of the problems that she’s had, so I won’t try to enumerate them. I’ve been to surgeries, tests, appointments and I’ve learned enough medical jargon that I’m conversant with the various medical professionals we encounter.

There was certainly a time where I thought that I might want to do something in the medical field. The thought of being able to help someone else through the various travails that I’ve been through seems like a rewarding career. I actually talked with a PA once and for about a week looked into going back to school for that.

Then I remembered that I’m horrible at everything science related.

I only went into the Science building in college when it was absolutely mandatory. I didn’t like the smell. I didn’t like the students that were always stuck inside their books having to memorize the names of muscle groups and the difference between blood types. I was the only guy who didn’t believe in evolution in my Biology class at a Baptist college. (It’s nothing religious, I just can’t get the fish to fish with legs to fish with legs in trees to monkey to people thing. It makes no sense to me.) Instead, I spent my time reading William Blake and Wordsworth. “The Waste Land” actually changed my life and I wrote my big freshman English “defend a position” paper on what makes something a work of art.

So, while I ponder what direction I want to head with my life. I think I can officially rule out everything in the “medical field.”

First Post-Mission Statement

I often find myself asking “How did I get here?” No, this does not have anything to do with a GPS unit that has somehow delivered me to the wrong county with a proud declaration of “destination ahead.” Instead, this is more of a metaphysical question that I sometimes find myself asking when my job brings me to a particular point where I would have never imagined myself.

I’m presently sitting in a driveway (and I use the term fairly loosely) in Lee County, Kentucky. I’ve driven almost 2 hours to get here. I’ve actually passed up my location once and drove about 15 miles past where I was going. It seems that the family who lives here doesn’t exactly know how to get to their house. But let me explain: to get to this house, you have to pass it up, go to the church about a quarter mile away, turn around and then come back. Apparently, some genius of engineering made the driveway such that no car, ATV or hovercraft could make the steep turn to go to this house from the “main road.”

The adventure only begins there. The road instantly goes to gravel and continues down a steep embankment. Once at the bottom of the embankment you get something out of a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book. You can either pull your car off to the side in the “wide place” and walk the 5 minutes to the house or you can press your luck and drive across the bridge. The bridge is another marvel of engineering. It consists of 6 pieces of plywood fastened by who knows what to either side of the creek bank. For a bit of shine, there is the occasional strip of sheet metal that appears to just be lying there. I assume it is more decorative than functional. Who doesn't like a little shine?

Once you’ve crossed the bridge (and in my imagination paid the troll his dragon tail and answered the riddle), you come upon the “picnic area.” The picnic area is really quite extraordinary. It actually rivals something inside of a state park. It’s got a solid wooden roof that is held up by concrete posts that have been painted black and underneath sits an array of solid wooden picnic tables. I counted at least six.

After a leisurely lunch at the picnic area, you can make a left turn and head on to the house. In the yard there are at least seven chickens and a Chihuahua to greet you. The house appears to be in decent condition. It’s white with a cute little porch that has been enclosed in lattice that is painted black. There is a proper porch swing and a few old, brown BARCO loungers that are sitting about for when you need to put your feet up.

My job has brought me here. You see, there is a lady who has been temporarily residing in this house. She has apparently stayed past her welcome and needs a ride to the homeless shelter in Lexington. I actually feel bad for her. Her story is that she left her life in Ohio and came to Kentucky to meet a man that she met on a singles line. He lives in this house. While she was on her way to him, she had an accident in Richmond and totaled her car. Enter me.

I’m the “insurance guy.” I’ve came out here to explain her total loss to her and to get all of the necessary paperwork from her so that we can get the car out of her name and sell it at salvage auction. As she now has no car and has fallen out of favor with the Man of the House, she is now going to a homeless shelter.

She seems completely unfazed by this. It appears that it was all part of her master plan. She already had the address and name of the shelter when she came this way. She wanted to start her life over and go to nursing school and if she had to stay in the shelter for a bit, then so be it. I kind of admire her for that. I certainly don’t have that kind of courage. As a matter of fact, I find her kind of inspiring.

You see, I did everything that I “good boy” is supposed to do. I went to high school, did the honors program and gradated in the Top 20 of my class. I went to a good private college complete with scholarship. I double majored and graduated in 4 years and was ready to go out and conquer the world.

Somewhere something went wrong.

I’ve now been working as an auto insurance adjuster for 5 years. My anniversary was just this past week. As an extra dig into my psyche, my 29^th birthday was the following day. I really feel like I’m at the point where something has to be done. The relationship with my boyfriend is on complete meltdown, I’ve just gotten over having to have my gall bladder removed and while trying to run to get in better shape, I got bitten by a dog.

I keep asking myself “what do you want to do with your life”. The truth is, I haven’t a clue And so I sit here, waiting for this lady to get the underwear that she was washing in the sink and the rest of her belongings and then I'm driving her and nearly two hours to a homeless shelter.

And she's inspired me to start a blog. I'm writing to get the ideas out of my head, think a little more about what it is that I want to do with my life, maybe get some feedback and hopefully get myself on some track towards a better, happier me.