I'm sitting at my kitchen table, next to a DVD that I watched titled, Alone in the Wilderness. It's a 1960's era documentary about a man named Dick Proenneke who builds a cabin by hand, with simple tools at Twin Lakes, Alaska (where he lived for 30 years afterwards). He shot the footage himself using a small camera and narrated, post-production.
I've watched it several times and it has this certain "feel" to it. For a man, a human in modern society to pull ranks and literally build himself a life only among nature is inspiring and heart warming. What if he would've had a heart attack, suffered a broken bone, or... developed Epilepsy. He knew he'd face death everyday, but pushed forward. He was a strong man, but as you can see in his footage, a gentle man. He only hunts for survival and has a moment to reflect on his kill... as if he's thanking the animal for offering him it's life.
Mr. Proenneke is a man who could be considered a cowardly man, who jumped as far away from the lower 48 in the thick of the cold war. A man who left is family to live a life of solitude. It's quit the opposite; Mr. Proenneke had rheumatic fever when he was young and after his fight, he decided to change and live a strong, healthy life. This is the point I'd like to make.
After fighting off the virus that caused my Epilepsy, I told myself that I'd never endanger my health again; that if I was to get sick it wasn't a reflection of my lifestyle. That promise lasted just over a year; 2010. I started eating more and I had a beer during special occasions. Soon, I realized that two or three beers didn't effect my condition. With that came the same old food that I was eating before; not exactly bad, just in portions that exceeded my metabolism. I'm not close to my original weight but I'm on a familiar path.
If I am so inspired by the man alone in the wilderness, able to recover from an illness and successfully sustain his new lifestyle and live the life he knew he could live, then why can't I?
Longevity. Sara always says that she just wants me to be healthy, for me to have as long of a life with her as possible. It'd be selfish of me to leave her too soon by my own doing.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Roots
I decided to take this week away from Illinois and spend it with my parents in Beloit, WI; my hometown. I've hung out with both of my sisters and did just a little drinking (enough to forget that I'm at a bar in Beloit!). I've talked with both my parents about where they're at, beyond what I usually hear over our telephone conversions.
After a lot of red tape, my driver's license was finally "reinstated!" That meant I could drive home from the DMV; that's about all the driving I've done back home (I'm not really cleared for the highway).
A couple days ago, my Dad let me use his car to grab some lunch and I did a little re-exploring of Beloit. Granted, it's not much, but this little city has scratched many permanent marks in my brain. As I drive by a park or a building or remember the way a specific road winds and bumps. I've been known to be sentimental, and a lot of memories were good but not all. The negative events that have happened here taught me lessons that I've used for good but they've hurt just as much as they've taught.
I've had two small seizures here, so far. Probably just getting used to the new territory. We have a kitten and she is kind of the same way (I know this sounds crazy). She'll know things are different and not eat, drink or try to avoid making real contact with us. Communication doesn't always have to be verbal, in fact it might damn well be better to use mental and physical language than words.
A lot of people feel this way, but you never quite feel rested or completely relaxed when taken out of the little hole you've dug for yourself. I'm not sleeping well or really thinking about the problems at home in Illinois. Sure, I check my email and send out resumes but there isn't that same sense of urgency or fear; I'm just really lonely. Even though my parents have been home 30% of the week, I just feel drained of human contact. I'm out of my element in Beloit; life isn't exactly slower, just less condensed. Hell, there are unmarked road crossings in my parent's neighborhood; a driver is just supposed to know to slow down and yield... a death trap in Chicago.
We're trying to move back to Milwaukee; my second home and Sara's first. There, it seems to be a good balance of here (Beloit) and Chicago. Sure, I'll be further away from my doctors, so I'll have to find a closer emergency type hospital with ties to Northwestern, but now that things are looking better for us medically, it's a no-brainer.
Today, I just felt like writing. I'd write everyday if I could but then I wouldn't have time to really reflect on what and who is around me. Like I've said before, once a word is spoken you can't take it back but when a word is written, there's always delete.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Greener Pastures
A fault of mine is that I'm always looking for the better deal or comparing myself with someone else's wealth in life, monetary or not. Money is always an issue but it seems as though we all end up at zero in some point in our lives.
Failure is an interesting word. To say to yourself that "I tried and failed" is really not a failure at all. If one learned from that experience and grew, only then would an individual really be prepared for the next phase of their life. Sure there's the initial shock and realization that things didn't turn out the way you planned but a lot of the time, if not all the time, things do have a way of working themselves out. Twenty years could pass and you'd think back to your so called "failure" and believe that was the turning point you needed in your life and shaped who you are today. You can only really fail if you give up and give in to the feeling of doubt and depression.
I'm a victim of doubt and depression. I've given in to the initial shock of failure and have done something awful to myself as a result. That incident was less than a year ago, in a circumstance less trivial than I'm experiencing at this very moment.
Looking back on this year I could say it started bad and ended even worse but this might've been one of the most enlightening years of my life.
I've learned about people and the social genre of a business' successes, whether on the up or down. I've learned that talking to a stranger can be used as practice for my vocabulary and temperament in a real-life conversation or social setting. I'm just now learning to accept my shortcomings and be who I am at the risk of losing a friendship, a career or material possessions.
Yes, I'm an over-weight epilepsy patient with no driver's license or nest egg. I may feel like I'm falling further and further behind the skills necessary to be a successful designer or photographer – both fields that burned white hot beneath my skin years ago. I could list off a list too, too long; I think we all could.
I may not be a strong man, but I know that deep down I'm trying to be a better man... a good man. A man that will give without the urge to receive. A man at peace, though sometimes it may seem as though his life is in pieces. A man who loves his family and would give himself up to make a better life for those around him. A man not afraid of death or pain, but is thankful for every minute of life and good health. A man who works for a better future while maintaining Mindfulness. A man who sees greener pastures but understands that his pasture was dealt to him by god.
Failure is an interesting word. To say to yourself that "I tried and failed" is really not a failure at all. If one learned from that experience and grew, only then would an individual really be prepared for the next phase of their life. Sure there's the initial shock and realization that things didn't turn out the way you planned but a lot of the time, if not all the time, things do have a way of working themselves out. Twenty years could pass and you'd think back to your so called "failure" and believe that was the turning point you needed in your life and shaped who you are today. You can only really fail if you give up and give in to the feeling of doubt and depression.
I'm a victim of doubt and depression. I've given in to the initial shock of failure and have done something awful to myself as a result. That incident was less than a year ago, in a circumstance less trivial than I'm experiencing at this very moment.
Looking back on this year I could say it started bad and ended even worse but this might've been one of the most enlightening years of my life.
I've learned about people and the social genre of a business' successes, whether on the up or down. I've learned that talking to a stranger can be used as practice for my vocabulary and temperament in a real-life conversation or social setting. I'm just now learning to accept my shortcomings and be who I am at the risk of losing a friendship, a career or material possessions.
Yes, I'm an over-weight epilepsy patient with no driver's license or nest egg. I may feel like I'm falling further and further behind the skills necessary to be a successful designer or photographer – both fields that burned white hot beneath my skin years ago. I could list off a list too, too long; I think we all could.
I may not be a strong man, but I know that deep down I'm trying to be a better man... a good man. A man that will give without the urge to receive. A man at peace, though sometimes it may seem as though his life is in pieces. A man who loves his family and would give himself up to make a better life for those around him. A man not afraid of death or pain, but is thankful for every minute of life and good health. A man who works for a better future while maintaining Mindfulness. A man who sees greener pastures but understands that his pasture was dealt to him by god.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
12/10/11
My sister Julie’s wedding is Saturday and I’ve been thinking a lot about our relationship and how it’s evolved since Dad first introduced me to her in Mom’s hospital room. Julie was born on a Friday and she’ll be married on a Saturday; it’s kind of interesting how our lives our dictated by dates, days of the week, lunar and astrological calendars.
December 10th will now be a bullet point in our family’s history; this is very important because it seems as though a lot of our family’s past has been forgotten. I can’t recall the day my great-grandmother or grandfather died, (even though I was at his house just hours after he died; keep in mind that I was pretty young). I don't know the birth dates or marriage anniversary dates of late family members or even the date my Dad was in his horrific car accident when I was young.
Anyone who knows me understands that I’m very sentimental. I create an emotional connection to the smallest objects or the briefest sentences. If I remembered the exact day that my grandfather died I would most certainly take a moment to share a memory of him with my wife or say a small thank you for him in my mind. I didn’t know him very well, but I know my father respects him to the highest regard and if that’s the case then I know he was a great man.
Because our immediate family had a hard time with extended family, us five became very close (Mom, Dad, Julie, Jenni and I). But as we got older and I left for college we all became less and less involved in each other’s day-to-day lives. My youngest sister was still a young girl when I left for school so we didn’t have a chance to connect until just recently... as adults.
My whole point here is I want our immediate family to welcome new members in and never use the phrase “extended family.” I want to know more and more about Julie’s husband. He’s my new brother. The day I was married I got five new sisters and a little brother. I’m not always the best at keeping tabs on them but when I’m around I try to make it a point to talk about what’s going on in their lives; mind you these conversations are mostly with the older siblings. Facebook and phone texts are ok, but to really see them face-to-face and hear them speak is really a treat.
This Saturday I’ll hear my sister and my new brother say “I do,” and that will be one of the greatest treats in my life.
December 10th will now be a bullet point in our family’s history; this is very important because it seems as though a lot of our family’s past has been forgotten. I can’t recall the day my great-grandmother or grandfather died, (even though I was at his house just hours after he died; keep in mind that I was pretty young). I don't know the birth dates or marriage anniversary dates of late family members or even the date my Dad was in his horrific car accident when I was young.
Anyone who knows me understands that I’m very sentimental. I create an emotional connection to the smallest objects or the briefest sentences. If I remembered the exact day that my grandfather died I would most certainly take a moment to share a memory of him with my wife or say a small thank you for him in my mind. I didn’t know him very well, but I know my father respects him to the highest regard and if that’s the case then I know he was a great man.
Because our immediate family had a hard time with extended family, us five became very close (Mom, Dad, Julie, Jenni and I). But as we got older and I left for college we all became less and less involved in each other’s day-to-day lives. My youngest sister was still a young girl when I left for school so we didn’t have a chance to connect until just recently... as adults.
My whole point here is I want our immediate family to welcome new members in and never use the phrase “extended family.” I want to know more and more about Julie’s husband. He’s my new brother. The day I was married I got five new sisters and a little brother. I’m not always the best at keeping tabs on them but when I’m around I try to make it a point to talk about what’s going on in their lives; mind you these conversations are mostly with the older siblings. Facebook and phone texts are ok, but to really see them face-to-face and hear them speak is really a treat.
This Saturday I’ll hear my sister and my new brother say “I do,” and that will be one of the greatest treats in my life.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Small But Not Insignificant
After a long and well traveled Thanksgiving weekend, I’m in the first couple hours of work and I’m getting reacquainted with the monotony of office life.
At first I was sort of depressed, and to be perfectly clear, I won’t disagree with you that no matter how busy our office gets, every day generally repeats itself. That’s the nature of being a designer, staring at a computer, sitting, eating lunch twenty feet from my desk and listening to stories about crazy clients and “hot” projects.
After an hour at work I started to feel a little different. I found myself noticing little changes around me. The toilet paper roll in the bathroom was on backwards, my “special” red pen was just laying out on my desk, I was invited to the daily meeting for the “higher-ups.” I can read off a dozen small, seemingly insignificant changes.
My point is, although I feel that design has been falling off my radar in the last couple of years, it may help me on a day-to-day basis to notice and be grateful for the small things in life.
I haven’t had a full seizure since July (where I lose consciousness), only auras. The VNS seems to be doing it’s job. I’ve had a vocal outlet for some of my concerns and ideas beyond this blog and I know now that talking and writing is hitting the nail on the head for me emotionally. I also believe it’s helping me better communicate to doctors, co-workers, friends and family; even strangers.
The phrase for today is “the little things;” petting and holding a small pet, looking into my wife’s eyes, listening to my heart beat during the last few seconds before I slip into sleep. There are a lot of complicated words in life, but if I can simplify things as best as I can, I believe my head will clear and I can fight any depression, any anger, any uncertainties, and any illness.
At first I was sort of depressed, and to be perfectly clear, I won’t disagree with you that no matter how busy our office gets, every day generally repeats itself. That’s the nature of being a designer, staring at a computer, sitting, eating lunch twenty feet from my desk and listening to stories about crazy clients and “hot” projects.
After an hour at work I started to feel a little different. I found myself noticing little changes around me. The toilet paper roll in the bathroom was on backwards, my “special” red pen was just laying out on my desk, I was invited to the daily meeting for the “higher-ups.” I can read off a dozen small, seemingly insignificant changes.
My point is, although I feel that design has been falling off my radar in the last couple of years, it may help me on a day-to-day basis to notice and be grateful for the small things in life.
I haven’t had a full seizure since July (where I lose consciousness), only auras. The VNS seems to be doing it’s job. I’ve had a vocal outlet for some of my concerns and ideas beyond this blog and I know now that talking and writing is hitting the nail on the head for me emotionally. I also believe it’s helping me better communicate to doctors, co-workers, friends and family; even strangers.
The phrase for today is “the little things;” petting and holding a small pet, looking into my wife’s eyes, listening to my heart beat during the last few seconds before I slip into sleep. There are a lot of complicated words in life, but if I can simplify things as best as I can, I believe my head will clear and I can fight any depression, any anger, any uncertainties, and any illness.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Editing a Voice
"Those who know, do not speak. Those who speak, do not know."
-Lao Tzu
I've come across this quote today and I'm trying to find a way to apply it. I've been neglecting this blog because the right time to write hasn't been presenting itself.
I've been speaking my mind to those close to me and I feel as though they're presenting advice (great advice) without knowing several important details that it's hard for me to divulge.
Simply, my goal is to continue to write and try my best to edit my voice.
-Lao Tzu
I've come across this quote today and I'm trying to find a way to apply it. I've been neglecting this blog because the right time to write hasn't been presenting itself.
I've been speaking my mind to those close to me and I feel as though they're presenting advice (great advice) without knowing several important details that it's hard for me to divulge.
Simply, my goal is to continue to write and try my best to edit my voice.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Boots and Blood
I, as do many (or all) people in the world take their fair share of hits. Yesterday I officially had my driver's license taken away because of the ill-control of my seizures. I haven't driven in months; actually it's more like a year, but I always had the little card in my pocket that defined me as a normal citizen that had the same rights as an average "everyday" person in the community.
Instead I got an Illinois State ID. This is basically used for buying alcohol or returning an item to a store. I'm traveling next week, so I'll need it for the airport security, but vacations like this hardly ever happen for me. I know this sounds like a miniature thing to be upset about but it hit me in just the right spot.
I've been having small seizures every now and then but the VNS seems to be taking care of them pretty well. My mood is improving, but like I said in earlier posts; it could be my new job, money, a sense of security, etc.
Yesterday night, after the whole ID thing and I got back from work, Sara and I went on a walk (we've been doing this more and more lately). I strapped on my new Dr. Marten boots, thinking the walk would help break them in.
As most of you know, I only wear Dr. Marten shoes and boots... the English made versions. There's so much I love about them; they have a romantic-type vibe... after a couple months the shoe becomes a part of the wearer. I've said in the past... I find myself looking at a new pair and wondering; "Where are these shoes going to take me? What will happen to me? What will I see? How will I feel?" It's sounds cheesy but I just love the thought of a footstep. Sometimes I'll walk around my building or work or wherever and I'll see one of my old footprints in the dirt or snow. What an amazing thing.
Anyway, I was walking with these new boots and like a lot of new shoes, especially Dr Martens, they hurt like hell the first couple of "wears." After a couple blocks around the neighborhood I felt a pop on my heal and could feel the hard leather cut into my skin. I walked through the pain knowing full well that I was bleeding pretty bad.
While this was happening a large storm was creeping into the area and it was getting darker and darker. We started walking faster... further cutting the leather into my heal. I wanted to take a mental picture of this moment. The pain, the storm. I felt so alive!!
We made it home just as it started pouring rain. I opened all the windows to cool down the apartment and as the stormy breeze filled the room I slowly removed the boot from my foot. My sock was full of blood and Sara got me a wipe and a bandage. I felt great... about the whole day... it was like I had a new life in just a few hours.
After my heal was taken care of I looked into the boot an noticed that the whole inside section on the boot's leather was soaked in blood. It was dark and.......... just beautiful. Those shoes took me somewhere yesterday and now I have proof. Did I think when I bought those boots that they would make me bleed... turning my mind away from the horrible thoughts that would enter my brain that day?
All of this sounds obtuse but it makes so much sense to me. The storm, boots, blood and pain. It felt a lot like life all wrapped up into an hour-and-a-half.
Instead I got an Illinois State ID. This is basically used for buying alcohol or returning an item to a store. I'm traveling next week, so I'll need it for the airport security, but vacations like this hardly ever happen for me. I know this sounds like a miniature thing to be upset about but it hit me in just the right spot.
I've been having small seizures every now and then but the VNS seems to be taking care of them pretty well. My mood is improving, but like I said in earlier posts; it could be my new job, money, a sense of security, etc.
Yesterday night, after the whole ID thing and I got back from work, Sara and I went on a walk (we've been doing this more and more lately). I strapped on my new Dr. Marten boots, thinking the walk would help break them in.
As most of you know, I only wear Dr. Marten shoes and boots... the English made versions. There's so much I love about them; they have a romantic-type vibe... after a couple months the shoe becomes a part of the wearer. I've said in the past... I find myself looking at a new pair and wondering; "Where are these shoes going to take me? What will happen to me? What will I see? How will I feel?" It's sounds cheesy but I just love the thought of a footstep. Sometimes I'll walk around my building or work or wherever and I'll see one of my old footprints in the dirt or snow. What an amazing thing.
Anyway, I was walking with these new boots and like a lot of new shoes, especially Dr Martens, they hurt like hell the first couple of "wears." After a couple blocks around the neighborhood I felt a pop on my heal and could feel the hard leather cut into my skin. I walked through the pain knowing full well that I was bleeding pretty bad.
While this was happening a large storm was creeping into the area and it was getting darker and darker. We started walking faster... further cutting the leather into my heal. I wanted to take a mental picture of this moment. The pain, the storm. I felt so alive!!
We made it home just as it started pouring rain. I opened all the windows to cool down the apartment and as the stormy breeze filled the room I slowly removed the boot from my foot. My sock was full of blood and Sara got me a wipe and a bandage. I felt great... about the whole day... it was like I had a new life in just a few hours.
After my heal was taken care of I looked into the boot an noticed that the whole inside section on the boot's leather was soaked in blood. It was dark and.......... just beautiful. Those shoes took me somewhere yesterday and now I have proof. Did I think when I bought those boots that they would make me bleed... turning my mind away from the horrible thoughts that would enter my brain that day?
All of this sounds obtuse but it makes so much sense to me. The storm, boots, blood and pain. It felt a lot like life all wrapped up into an hour-and-a-half.
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