On writing life down

Last night I decided to pick up a much-neglected habit, one that I've been putting off for the better part of a year: journal writing.

If you've ever tried to keep a regular journal or diary, you probably know how hard it can be - how long stretches of time can pass when you don't comment on anything, and much of what you do write is catch-up material.

I've always heard that the best writers keep a journal to put down their thoughts and experiences, a catalog of sorts for a life lived, day-by-day. They could then mine the journal for material. I've also heard that writing can help you to put down thoughts to ease the rambling in your head, and it's for this reason that I took up the practice.

I kept little notebooks - mostly the simple, ruled, spiral-bound kind - through high school, forgot about them through college, and picked up the practice again when I graduated. In fact, the one I found has the first entry marked "7-20-03," the summer after I left Adrian. Sometimes I would write often, sometimes I would go for months without putting anything down, but I dug it out last night just to see what I was thinking - Jesus! - three and a half years ago.

It's remarkable what changes in three years. I notice broad patterns of discussion, subjects that appear, then disappear, only to reappear months down the road. I write about Dayna a lot, because we were dating at the time. And I write about my then-new job (here's one, marked "8-3-03": "At least I have a steady, decent-paying job. My luck may have turned around. For once, things are going okay. A few goals left to achieve, and life will be good.") I write about issues I still struggle with today (at "8-19-03," I rant about my lack of self-discipline: "Usually writing things down helps me. Developing a habit helps even more...speaking of discipline, I need to exercise!").

A journal is kind of like a history for yourself, a written-down reminder of all the events and adventures you've been through. On "9-15-03," I write about first moving in with Don into Granada Apartments: "After having gone to 15 different schools until high school, the prospect of moving again, despite its inherent benefits, didn't seem fun...but I think I'm better now." I document grandma giving me her car, concerts Don and I went to (like coming back from KMFDM on "11-8-04": "On the way home, Don and I saw the Northern Lights. Beautiful! Subtle greens and pinks, and it looked like a quiet daylight at midnight...it was perfect, a once-in-a-lifetime event!"), the 2004 election ("Bush won, Kerry lost. 'Nuff said."), Dayna and I splitting up (8-23-04, a single line before the split: "Wet eyes red no more.") - it all seems so long ago, but by reading through it last night it reminded me of a lot of things I haven't thought about.

Quite a bit reads like foreshadowing; me glimpsing into the future, or setting a path for myself that I've followed pretty well. On "10-4-04," after the split, I wonder what the heck I'm going to do with my new-found singleness: "Now I'm single again - for the first time in over three years. I must spend more time developing myself, really growing up and seeing what the world has to offer. It seems now is the time to take advantage of my youth, and do the things I've been wanting to do." Little did I know that following spring I would venture off to Chicago by myself, and the spring after that travel cross-country down a mythic highway. "Life's too short," I wrote. "Time to start enjoying it!"

I spot symptoms of behavior that I still feel today. On "12-28-04," I write: "My trip to Ann Arbor last weekend was a symptom of the deep wanderlust I have when life is in upheaval. My dad does it - guess I have some of that bug, too." Some things never change.

Life wasn't any simpler back then, either, such as on "1-27-05": "Between writing for the magazine, cleaning, reading, playing my new acoustic guitar, or other hobbies, I have a steady, always-filled 'to-do' list available." Hey, that sounds like a typical day today.

That summer brought a flurry of thoughts, emotions, reconnections and activities, until the fall when I found all the previous concerns I had written about "are no longer relavent," especially after "winding down a year of exploration."

Then it ends. A year and two months ago, "10-23-05" being my last entry.

After reading through three years of note-taking, I decided to start the practice up again. I struggled this spring and summer to kick-start the habit again (but kicked myself when I couldn't remember the password on the encrypted file on my iMac), but will now stick to pen and paper, and try to see what else I can accomplish in three year's time.

And maybe, years from now, I can look back and remember what life was like for a twenty-something Dave - a Dave probably still struggling with the same issues I face every year.

Maybe I've found life doesn't change all that much, just some of the characters, and some of the places.

The road to self-improvement

Home sick today, after having my top two wisdom teeth pulled out. The experience wasn't a fun one (I nearly ripped the dentist chair's arms off during the procedure), but it had to be done. So this morning I woke up to a bloody pillow, a sour feeling in my stomach, and two less teeth. Joy.

But I did manage to attend my final Financial Peace University Class last night with Suzanne, ending a 13-week long session of self-discovery and budgeting education.

Suzanne's boss paid for her to take the class, and since you're supposed to take it with a spouse - and she didn't have one - she invited me to attend with her. I was pretty skeptical at first. I was thinking it was another one of those get-rich-quick schemes; you know, buying or selling crap, real estate scams, etc.

Now, however, I'm so glad Suzanne invited me. The class has been one of those experiences where you wonder how you ever got along with out it.

Not that I've ever had big problems financially. I've always been pretty responsible, especially since leaving school. Except when it comes to debt, in which case I thought everyone gets in debt while they're at school. Right? Who doesn't have a student loan or a credit card these days?

"The borrower is slave to the lender," Dave Ramsey says, a quote he took from the Bible. Ramsey is the one who instructs the class (via a DVD series we watched at a local breakfast place, every Tuesday night). If you haven't heard of Dave Ramsey (he's got a pretty popular radio show), I suggest you check him out. At times he can be arrogant and tough, but he knows what he's talking about.

His motive is simple: get out of debt so you can use the money you're currently paying to credit card companies to build actual wealth.

And use financial methods our grandparents used. Not so much a can filled with cash on top of the refrigerator (or in the freezer, as my grandpa used to do), but building an emergency fund for those sure-to-come events in life, or buying things with cash and bargaining when the situation fits.

The plan involves baby steps and debt snowballs and all kind of neat (but truly legitimate) tricks to get yourself out of debt. Just the other week I paid off a credit card I've had since college. I even over-paid, so they have to send me a check for the remaining balance. And I'm going to frame that check to document the first time a debt-causing business has ever owed me money. It's a pretty good feeling.

Next will come a few other credit cards I've had, then paying off my vehicle early, then my student loans, and so on. I like the thought of not owing anyone any money, and I really like the thought of the house I could buy with all those saved payments. Imagine what you could do if you didn't have any student loan or credit card payments. I've already started imagining.

The whole thing has been a blast. I've started selling a lot of my crap on eBay, and I'm doing pretty well. With the money I've raised, I can hammer away at my debts. The program also includes budgeting, which I've always strangely enjoyed, and I'm finding that I'm spending less and saving more. That may mean I'm the designated driver a few more nights a month, but I have plenty of fun with the money I have.

Last night we had a nice potluck and handed out "graduation" certificates, but the over-arching theme of the night was people breathing a collective sigh of relief. This stuff should be taught at the high school level, before the credit card companies get to you, but we were all glad we learned it now. Better late than never.

I've also met a few new friends, and found out that just about everyone has money problems of some sort. The trick is, as Dave says, to manage your money - not let it manage you.

So off I go. Ready to pay off another credit card probably by the new year, and then another, and then I can use all the money I was making payment with to make bigger payments on the stuff that's left. It's brilliant. And I can't wait to be debt-free.

Dave Ramsey encourages the class to take the knowledge and spread it to others (free of charge!). I think that I'll save up and buy my dad a spot in the next class, because I know he's never been great with money.

It's probably the best gift I could give him.

On diabetic vampirism

I think I have a good idea of what vampires feel like, when they're starving.

It's a thought that went through my head today at grandma's, after dinner, when I finished three bowls of turkey noodle soup and a left-over slice of pumpkin pie. I had this overwhelming sense of calm and contentment - and I wondered, "Is this what Ann Rice was writing about?"

On the way to grandma's today, I noticed I was a bit...on edge. I was anticipating a fight that never even happened, and when I finally got there I was so cranky and argumentative I felt like I had to shut up to keep myself from saying something stupid.

What was it all about? The soup.

Grandma: What are you doing with all that turkey?

Me: I'm going to make soup for dinner.

Grandma: What do you mean you're going to make soup for dinner?

Me: What do you mean, what do I mean? Is there another way to say it?

Grandma: I just don't understand...

...and I walked away in a huff, grabbed the stuff I brought, and started to make soup. What she didn't understand was how I could make a pot so fast (hers took all day), but to me she was being annoying.

I check my bloodsugar before we ate, and it was 50. Normal is 80-120. And it didn't occur to me until later that the reason I was upset and flustered was because my bloodsugar was so low.

That calm and ease I felt after the pie? That was me returning to my senses. I really felt like the happiest clam on earth, realizing I could die right then and be perfectly happy. Over a piece of pie.

I'm a sugar vampire. Sometimes.

I've had scarier experiences than that - sometimes waking up in the hospital, not realizing what the heck happened. Ask Don or Neff about Easter weekend of freshman year at Adrian.

My dad has found me stumbling around outside, blabbering like I was drunk. That's one symptom of low bloodsugar - or hypoglycemia - a condition that occurs either when I have too much insulin or not enough glucose (or sugar) in my system.

Deprived of energy-giving sugar, my body starts to shut down, organ by organ. My brain is usually the first to go (symptoms like apparent drunkenness, dizziness, sleepiness, or irritability), then my eyes (blurred vision, inability to focus), and sometimes even my extremities - all a result of my body keeping the sugar I do have in my system flowing to the necessary organs like my heart and lungs. Though, if you've heard of someone going into a diabetic coma, those things will stop, too.

Pretty scary. The scariest incident, though, was at Emily's, the night before we left for a weekend in Traverse City. I remember feeling super sleepy on the way to her place, and when I got there I felt the uncontrollable urge to just fall asleep. Poor Emily didn't think much of it (I am known to take naps and fall asleep at random times) until I started having seizures.

It was the weirdest thing: I actually felt my arm come alive. I could feel a center point, right in the crook on the opposite side of my elbow, and I could sense my veins and arteries waking up - ribbons of blue in what was otherwise total darkness. Soon my whole arm woke up, and then I did. To two paramedics standing over Em's bed. And Emily's family looking on in horror.

My brain had shut off, and what I felt was an IV in my arm shooting glucose back into my system. My cells were literally switching back on, blood vessel by blood vessel, until my brain finally received enough nutrition to switch on, too.

Thankfully, after a scary incident my senior year in college, I have my diabetes well under control. My doctor's visit today proved it. I have an A1c (an average bloodsugar count of the last three months) of 6.1%, and it's good for diabetics to be under 7.0%. My feet are in great condition, and I've lost six pounds over the last year.

But still, events like today at grandma's remind me that it doesn't take much to push me over some catatonic deep end. I ate a whole bunch today, and still my sugar dropped without me even noticing until...well, until the pie.

I remember, when Dayna and I would be lazy on weekends, I would feel that sleepiness come on me - and the last thing I felt like doing was fighting it off. Surrendering felt like a much better option, until usually my brain said, "Dave, I'm starving." Then I would ask for help.

Often, though, someone will find me jabbering away in the yard, or falling asleep on some fraternity house couch - and they can't wake me back up - and I'll have no idea how I got there.

Usually I do feel the hypoglycemia, and I'm so starved out of my mind that I get shaky and sweaty and I can't focus my thoughts. Then I'm so hungry I can't think about anything other than getting a soda or juice or piece of candy to bring me back to my senses - and in that way I kind of feel like some glucose Dracula, ready to pounce on some poor, innocent Hershey's bar.

That's why I try to carry candy on me at all times - just in case the hunger strikes again.

My diabetes, it's something that follows me wherever I go. No matter how much I try to let it drift into my life's background, it rears its fanged head often enough to remind me it's still there.

Tattoo 'Pepsi' on my behind.

I think sitting through movie theater commercials is a situation where everyone is absolutely outraged, but no one does anything about it.

Why pay to see a commercial? It's silly. But no one exactly gets up out of the theater in protest.

I've noticed a similar trend with product placements in movies and TV. From what I've read, everyone is shrugging it off - "Well, it'll cut down on the cost of production" - when really the integrity of art and culture is suffering.

Last night's episode of "The Office" had a glaring example, where one of the characters uses a new shredding machine - with a "Staples" label clearly slapped on the front - and brags about its ability to shred CDs and credit cards (and lettuce for a salad). The commercial that came right after the scene was, of course, one for Staple's new, sleek shredder.

Coincidence?

Later, I caught a bit of "30 Rock" where the writing crew is drinking Snapple, making fun of product placements in TV shows, but then cut to - you guessed it - a Snapple ad.

The worst for me, however, was during the "Talledegha Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby" dinner scene, where they all gorge on Pizza Hut, Pepsi, and Doritos, and then praise them to tiny, infant baby Jesus. It was a giant commercial for Pepsi - even worse than the stock cars that carry the logos on the hood.

Carrying a sponsor's logo on a vehicle - or a badge, or a uniform, or whatever - somehow doesn't upset me. No big deal. But these placements in movies, where it's so obvious not even Wayne and Garth ("Little, yellow, different") can satirize them enough.

Do we just throw up our hands and say, "oh well?"

I guess one recourse is to boycott the shows and movies that do this kind of thing. Except now just about everyone is doing it. And that would mean, in the case of "The Office" especially, that we'd be giving up great art for ideals that won't survive in a market-driven economy (and hey, Pam makes it all kind of worth it).

Even video games are getting into the act. I noticed it while swinging through New York in "Spider-Man 2," but the game developers didn't give Spidey the ability to take a crap on a billboard. Dang.

Maybe I'll keep a count going, and whoever annoys me the most - that's the show I'll stop watching.

But soon I'll run out of things to watch, and I'll have only books as a getaway plan.

Unless Pepsi pays for a billboard in the next Neil Gaiman novel...

My Apple-junkie anniversary

It's SuperBowl 2006 - a bit late this year, but with all the networks copying Fox's Terry, Howie, and the gang-style coverage (Chris Matthews as Jim Brown, the pundits as cocky, witty sportscasters) it's hard to avoid the comparison.

After all, we're voting for teams here. Blue, red, mascots in donkey and elephant form, balloons and confetti, 3,000 soldiers dying by halftime.

The replay comes in every ten minutes or so, with the Dems picking up more and more points as the night goes on. You think your hometeam's quarterback getting booed is bad, imagine facing an electorate that's suspicious instead of cynical.

It's, perhaps, a statement against a Head Coach that governs to only 49% of his team, offense and defense - kind of like being on the wrong side of an oncoming blitz. When your pre-game speech ignites "Uniter, not Divider" statements, and the team finds out you lied through your silver-spoon teeth, well, don't be surprised when the nation finds blood - not Gatorade - on your Starter jacket.

Balance is a good goal to have. The Framers knew this - in fact, most of the source of the tea-party rage was England's all-encompassing power. Rubber stamps are bad, protection of rights against a government that's bound to fail you is good, and we've got a big boot ready if you don't agree. One governing party is like Bill Parcels running the front office, marketing, concessions in the stadium, and still getting off his old, fat, angry ass to coach a team. It's too much of a bad thing.

But not the ball is in the Democrats court, and the game plan doesn't look promising. A dispatch just reported that they've officially taken the House, and with Ohio, New Jersey, Pennsylvania (good bye, asshole Santorum), and Rhode Island falling into the Blue Column, the American people have placed an immense amount of maybe-misplaced trust in a party who hasn't had a great idea since LBJ. Good ideas, sure, but not planet-shaking.

We're still waiting for our Immaculate Concession.

Locally, our own Dems Stabenow in the senate and our Governor Granholm keep their seats (Granholm got lucky on that one, mostly because DeVos couldn't outline a plan of any detail or nuance) - and the states around us, those Big Ten burrowing-mammal states, head farther left.

Republicans tried an experiment with more African American candidates, but it's kind of like Terry Bradshaw calling a soccer game - it just doesn't look (or sound) right. The experiment has failed.

The idea of total control has failed too, but I wonder if anyone is listening. The swing back and forth - liberal and conservative, Dem and GOP - wears thin if all you can do is "get out the base," a bunch of loonies I don't trust at all. Call them out of their holes with issues like gay marriage and flag burning, and then hide them away while you give away the treasury to your corporate backers. It's bullshit, and I wish someone had the guts to actually Get Something Done around here. My grandma still doesn't have a job, my city's manufacturing base is crumbling, the media is joining forces into Alliances of Evil (I'll copywrite that one), but some out West still feel like keeping gays from suffering from a lifetime of each other is still issue number one.

Everything is moving Right, it would seem, with candidates like Harold Ford, Jr. in Tennessee appearing as a conservative dressed as a Democrat. Lieberman holds on, Republicans go Neo as it leaves its historical supporters, and no one is looking back at liberals, fearing they'll turn into a pillar of unelectable salt. Christians are all of the sudden caring about the poor and environment, Democrats are touting state's rights, and everyone is trying to bash NAFTA and CAFTA harder than everyone else. Nixon would have loved it, had he not been so fucked up in his paranoid skull, but Bush only has two more years to reap a movement he isn't smart enough to study and understand.

Who knows who to vote for anymore? And who knows who Montana will offer?

I just hope good, responsible governing - not revenge - is in store for the next two years, until we start this whole Hairspray-and-Handshakes Hairball rolling again, but for bigger stakes.

Will we have the gall to fill in the bubble in another presidential election? Jesus, I'm losing sleep over this one - what will I do two years from tonight?

Lose more sleep, and a bit more of my soul, and this gridiron doozie drools on.

On Divine Discontent

It's SuperBowl 2006 - a bit late this year, but with all the networks copying Fox's Terry, Howie, and the gang-style coverage (Chris Matthews as Jim Brown, the pundits as cocky, witty sportscasters) it's hard to avoid the comparison.

After all, we're voting for teams here. Blue, red, mascots in donkey and elephant form, balloons and confetti, 3,000 soldiers dying by halftime.

The replay comes in every ten minutes or so, with the Dems picking up more and more points as the night goes on. You think your hometeam's quarterback getting booed is bad, imagine facing an electorate that's suspicious instead of cynical.

It's, perhaps, a statement against a Head Coach that governs to only 49% of his team, offense and defense - kind of like being on the wrong side of an oncoming blitz. When your pre-game speech ignites "Uniter, not Divider" statements, and the team finds out you lied through your silver-spoon teeth, well, don't be surprised when the nation finds blood - not Gatorade - on your Starter jacket.

Balance is a good goal to have. The Framers knew this - in fact, most of the source of the tea-party rage was England's all-encompassing power. Rubber stamps are bad, protection of rights against a government that's bound to fail you is good, and we've got a big boot ready if you don't agree. One governing party is like Bill Parcels running the front office, marketing, concessions in the stadium, and still getting off his old, fat, angry ass to coach a team. It's too much of a bad thing.

But not the ball is in the Democrats court, and the game plan doesn't look promising. A dispatch just reported that they've officially taken the House, and with Ohio, New Jersey, Pennsylvania (good bye, asshole Santorum), and Rhode Island falling into the Blue Column, the American people have placed an immense amount of maybe-misplaced trust in a party who hasn't had a great idea since LBJ. Good ideas, sure, but not planet-shaking.

We're still waiting for our Immaculate Concession.

Locally, our own Dems Stabenow in the senate and our Governor Granholm keep their seats (Granholm got lucky on that one, mostly because DeVos couldn't outline a plan of any detail or nuance) - and the states around us, those Big Ten burrowing-mammal states, head farther left.

Republicans tried an experiment with more African American candidates, but it's kind of like Terry Bradshaw calling a soccer game - it just doesn't look (or sound) right. The experiment has failed.

The idea of total control has failed too, but I wonder if anyone is listening. The swing back and forth - liberal and conservative, Dem and GOP - wears thin if all you can do is "get out the base," a bunch of loonies I don't trust at all. Call them out of their holes with issues like gay marriage and flag burning, and then hide them away while you give away the treasury to your corporate backers. It's bullshit, and I wish someone had the guts to actually Get Something Done around here. My grandma still doesn't have a job, my city's manufacturing base is crumbling, the media is joining forces into Alliances of Evil (I'll copywrite that one), but some out West still feel like keeping gays from suffering from a lifetime of each other is still issue number one.

Everything is moving Right, it would seem, with candidates like Harold Ford, Jr. in Tennessee appearing as a conservative dressed as a Democrat. Lieberman holds on, Republicans go Neo as it leaves its historical supporters, and no one is looking back at liberals, fearing they'll turn into a pillar of unelectable salt. Christians are all of the sudden caring about the poor and environment, Democrats are touting state's rights, and everyone is trying to bash NAFTA and CAFTA harder than everyone else. Nixon would have loved it, had he not been so fucked up in his paranoid skull, but Bush only has two more years to reap a movement he isn't smart enough to study and understand.

Who knows who to vote for anymore? And who knows who Montana will offer?

I just hope good, responsible governing - not revenge - is in store for the next two years, until we start this whole Hairspray-and-Handshakes Hairball rolling again, but for bigger stakes.

Will we have the gall to fill in the bubble in another presidential election? Jesus, I'm losing sleep over this one - what will I do two years from tonight?

Lose more sleep, and a bit more of my soul, and this gridiron doozie drools on.

The fall of Fall

We've skipped right to winter, and it's only the second day of November. The weather report this morning is calling for snow, and I wonder why we bother with autumn in the first place.

Cold brings a project-oriented mindset, since you're mostly stuck inside and unable to take walks in the park - unless you're insane, in which case, have at it.

My project has been selling my knick-nacks on eBay - a site whose popularity has dwindled, judging by the bid counts on the items I want to sell. Who knew, five years ago, that the Simpsons collectible action figures would be a bad investment? Who knew that a tin Spider-Man lunchbox would fail to impress even the smallest niche of hobbyists? eBay is a good stopping place if you're looking to find a bargain on a CD or DVD: most go for only a few bucks, with shipping, which beats even the discount used movies I pick up from Blockbuster.

The project is a result of the doldrums, true, but also of the financial class Suzanne and I are taking with guru Dave Ramsey - a smart guy from Tennessee with an accent and little patience with debt. I'm weary of the get-rich-quick classes that so many around here are taking these days (probably because of the piss-poor job market and economy), so much so that I'll ignore polite offers. And this one I was skeptical of, too, but I'm glad Suzanne invited me. Ramsey is a crock-pot, not a microwave, in his philosophy, in that getting out of debt and building wealth take time. One of his recommendations is to sell the crap you don't need.

So selling the crap I don't need, or that's taking up too much space, or that I haven't seen in years. Except this opens up a whole world I'm not familiar with, what with all the bubble wrap and packaging tape and feedback points.

The cold also means dark, and while the sun shines in the morning - as it should - it disappears right about the time I wake up from a nap. And that's horse-pucky. My winter blahs don't need to start any earlier than they have to.

The blahs help, though, when watching my new favorite show - "The Office" - and "My Name is Earl" when I can catch it. I hear that iTunes saved the show, which I don't doubt, but I think it's humor and wit will see it through.

No more baseball games with Cowboy and Keith, sadly, but I may still have some travel left in my bones. And when I don't, I have another Office - Veach's bar - to look forward to with Mel, Jenny, Don and the crew. It's usually too loud to conversate, but never too loud to play drunken card games.

Winters are more bearable when you're buzzed, but my new budgeting superpowers make buzzed harder and harder to achieve.

What I do hope to achieve is a haircut of some sort, some financial peace, and a steady income from online auctions.

And maybe a sense of accomplishment, when crypto-Nazis like Pennsylvania Senator Rick Santorum burn in their own hellfire and brimstone. But with the unreliable voting machines - like the ones Randi and I saw in "Man of the Year" - it's hard to say who has the power anymore.