tripped over a box that i have sitting in the living floor waiting to mail to Prague in the morning. i had a glass full of water. i tried not to fall once i started tripping, but it didn't work. i only spilled a little of my water, surprisingly. but now my wrist hurts, and my elbow and knee have carpet burn...
kind of funny, though.
I don't think I have to tell most of you this, but...
A friend of the family ended up in the hospital this weekend from stomach cramps so bad that this person ended up passing out.
The doctors ran a whole array of tests and, at first, thought it might be something quite severe. However, after a little more time they realized that this person was simply dehydrated.
Why?
You cannot, despite what you might think, drink nothing but sodas all day long and not pay some sort of consequence for it. Those things dehydrate the crap out of you.
So, ends up, because this person drinks nothing but sodas they ended up dehydrated, which leads to constipation, which leads to stomach cramps, which leads - obviously - to passing out from the pain.
My dear friends... please drink water. It is good.
“I’ve got two things I want you to do this week, Trevor.”
Therapists are always trying to challenge you.
“I want you to take anything that your mind can’t let go of and write it on a piece of paper. I want you to take that piece of paper and put it in a shoe box and put that shoe box in the top of your closet.”
What I need is more people telling me what to do.
“And I want you to start a conversation with someone that you have never met before.”
What I need is someone else with expectations of me.
“Do you think you can handle that?” she says with all the sweetness in her voice of a cup full of saccharine.
“The other day I talked to the girl who carries out groceries at the market.”
“Really? And what did y’all talk about?”
“I to…” I told her I could carry them out on my own, and I thanked her for her offer to help. I don’t think that is quite what she is looking for, so I’ll keep it to myself.
“What was that? You trailed off.”
“Nothing, forget it.”
“So do you think you can do this stuff?” She asks again, with a bit more verve in her throat.
“Write things on a piece of paper? Hell yeah, I can do that,” I spurt out with humorous optimism.
She narrows her eyes to lightly scold me; she is obviously more concerned with the other task. “Can you talk to someone?”
“I saw my aunt in the grocery store the other day. I talked to her for a while. She asked me to tell my parents about her daughter, she’s sick,” or something. Frankly, I stopped listening after a few minutes.
“Trevor. Focus with me, you’ve got to stop avoiding.”
That probably makes it sound like the only place I ever go is the grocery store; but it’s not. I go to work everyday. And my parents are always inviting me over to eat dinner. I never go though. I don’t go a lot of places.
“I don’t know. I can try.” I’m always dodgy. One good way to get nothing out of me is to try to pressure me.
“Okay. Well, if you aren’t going to do it, I want you to do something else for me.”
As many before me have found, I have learned that if you let people down early in your relationship with them, they learn to expect very little of you, so that one might avoid moments like this. The problem with therapists is that they are always hoping for the best. They are always thinking people will change.
“I want you to come to a group therapy meeting Thursday evening.”
“I – I really can’t afford that. And my parents want me to come over for dinner Thursday night.”
I’m twenty-six and I live alone. I haven’t always, though. I mean, of course I haven’t always lived alone. What I mean is that I didn’t start out living alone. After university, when I moved back here, I got an apartment with a friend of mine; who ended up being the only person I know in this town anymore. He got married. Now he’s dead.
“Are you going to go eat at your parents?”
He’s not actually dead. He’s – well – he’s married, like I said. So he might as well be dead. I don’t ever see him anymore. I guess he has new friends now. Married friends.
“It’s at seven o’clock, here in the big meeting room. We’ll have cookies and soda.”
That isn’t for me. Getting married, settling down. Mortgages and matching dishes and babies. I want more. I never meant to have a home. But I can’t even hold a conversation with someone I do know, and like. I don’t know how I am supposed to talk to people I have never met. I don’t know how I am supposed to try to actually live with all of this going on in my head.
“Trevor, are you listening to me?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll come.”
“Good, there will be about ten people there. All who struggle with the same kinds of things that you do. It will be a good opportunity for you to meet some people.”
“Yeah, I guess it will.”
I haven’t always been this way. I haven’t always been so closed off. There was a time when I had hope that things could be better. There was a time when I even tried. I haven’t ever been good with people, at making friends; but I have always managed to have friends.
“Okay, then I will be seeing you on Thursday...”
I walk out to my car. I grab an old bottle of water sitting in my cup holder and a prescription bottle. I take out two klonopin and toss them in my mouth. That makes six for today. I took two this morning and two before the session so I could concentrate. At first these things set me free from my own fucked-up mind. Now I have to keep taking increasingly more just to keep my thoughts straight.
The past few months I sleep a lot; I stare at walls all night. I get annoyed simply by talking to people – or, actually, when people talk to me. Maybe living alone does this to you. Maybe it’s living in a town you should never have returned to, and hating your life because of where you are. Maybe I am just tired of this place...
So lately I have been listening to three comps that I have made... One for Ron, a guy I work with, who has yet to even pick the comp up off his desk where it was placed when I gave it to him over a month ago.
Another being a comp I made for Beverly, who, as coincidence would have it, has returned neither my email nor phone calls I have made trying to get the comp to her before I leave the country.
The last being the latest comp I have been working on, probably my last for a long long time (since it wouldn't be exactly as easy task in the Czech Republic).
Other than that, two bands have caught my ear lately. The Mountain Goats (yeah, horrible name, huh?) and They Shoot Horses Don't They (a more interesting name, at the least).
Now I’d rather die than ever be alone.
A purple little lady would be perfect for a dirty, old and useless clown.
You’re dancing on ceiling, and you’re damn right we danced…
So all that’s left is the proof that love’s not only blind but deaf.
We all laugh endlessly, extend our pinkies when we drink and thumb our noses at the lower classes in the penny seats.
I’m gonna say that it’s quite ironic that she drinks beer and he drinks gin and tonic.
When they finally come, what'll you do to them? Gonna decimate them like you did to me? Will you leave them stunned and stuttering? When they finally come, how will you handle them? Will you devastate them deliberately?
And as we planned there's fireworks, stage right. They're swallowing the brains of all in sight.
I thought you'd come and go, I never thought that you would stay, and I'm sorry if I tried to push you away.
But you'll turn into something. You should turn into something.
If you have a date in Constantinople she'll be waiting in Istanbul.
I don't care, I don’t care, I really don't care. Did you see the drummer's hair?
This is how we are - we are young and stupid and raised by wolves.
One son killed another, he killed his brother.
Remember me, remember me, remember me – I had you by your baby teeth.
First I'll build a sword, get some words to explain – it’s a plan, brother, at least – and I'll pretend that everybody here wants peace.
God told the angel to go and see about John.
She's a friend of my sister’s; she’s a friend of mine…
I’m afraid of being on my own; there's nothing worse than being alone.
People get shattered in many ways.
Shovel Cake (noun)
A wedding or birthday cake that, instead of being brought in the original box or placed nicely into another container, is shoveled into a dish in a condition to best be served with a ladle. The best way to serve shovel cake is by spooning it onto a plate, then holding the plate up to your mouth and actually shoveling it into your face.
Wife Voice (noun)
You're at your desk at work, quietly plugging away on the new account, minding your own business. In the cubicle next to you a coworker gets buzzed, "Phone call on line three." He picks up the phone, offers his customary salutation, "This is Richard," - everything is normal, right? Then suddenly, a new Richard emerges. Same guy, sure - but this voice?
This soft, sweet voice of patient understanding, this mysterious coo of peace and saccharine, it is indeed a curious and confounded thing. Suddenly you understand: your coworker is on the phone with his wife - this is wife voice.
Wife voice isn't always reserved to a wife; girlfriends, small children, and even drinking buddies get it from time to time. Nor is it reserved only for public situations like work. Go hang out with a guy friend while his wife or girlfriend is out of town and wait for the call from his significant other - it will be unmistakable.
Wife voice occurs for various reasons, but the most prevalent reason is that any conversation with your wife (or significant other), no matter how private, is a rather personal and intimate time. Even if your wife has called to tell you that the plumber has arrived, and is "unpacking his tools", and you wonder what that's supposed to mean, this is a personal time, and wife voice must be respected.
If you listen carefully to wife voice you can even make an educated guess as to how long the speaker has been married; that is, with this piece of information: The longer someone has been married, the more agreeable wife voice becomes until it spreads beyond tone into words. You can assume each agreeable word consecutively occurring represents ten years of marriage. "Yes ... yes ... yes, honey ... yes." How long has this man been married? If you said thirty years, congratulation!
New Saying:
”That stuff will burn your ass up…”
Translation: The food you are about to consume is so spicy that it will likely burn just as much during its exit from your body as it will when you eat it.
So, I have come to the realization that my next two weeks at work, no matter if I work my ass off or just sit around and do absolutely nothing are completely useless.
I have been working on the design for this bank for the last few weeks (it is taking me forever, yes, but that is a completely different subject). We finally had a meeting about the bank with the client this last week and he mentioned some styles of building that he liked, in particular the look of dark red brick with cast stone detailing. My boss, however, after the meeting told me not to even pay attention to this and to continue on in the direction that we had been going (the direction my boss chose, none-the-less).
So, I can come up with the best design in the world in this style (though, honestly, I am struggling to come up with anything at all), or I can sit around and do nothing. Either way, we are going to be in the same place at the end of the two weeks, because the client has already told us the direction he would like to head in, but my boss has decided to ignore him.
Therefore, my next two weeks of work are absolutely worthless. It is hard enough to want to get up and go to work with two weeks left as it is, but to also know that no matter what I do, nothing will ever come of it does not make it any more appealing to go to work.
Not to mention that I am just tired of waking up every morning only to do things I do not want to do. Is it too much to ask to have a job that one enjoys? I don't know. This is something I plan on finding out, though, I can tell you that much right now.
That is all I have for now, I am dead tired for some reason, so I going to try to trick myself into going to bed.
Okay.
So right now, while twenty gigabytes worth of music are downloading (or uploading, I guess, depending on your point of view) onto my mp3 player, I am going to tell you about my day.
Yeah, I know that it is one o’clock in the morning, and I should probably be in bed sleeping because I got really pissy toward the end of the day because I was tired, none of that matters. You see, when I am tired, I am the most awake.
When I got to work this morning my boss called Galen into his office and they had a ‘closed door’ meeting. When Galen came out I asked him if that was about me, and my letter. Galen didn’t say anything, because he had just taken a swig of mouth wash and was on his way to the restroom, but he gave me this like as if to say, “Hell yeah, it was.”
After he disposed of his mouth wash he came and told me what David Potter had said, so I decided to go talk to him. First, however, we had a meeting at ten o’clock that David was kind enough to let me attend. So I asked David if we could talk after the meeting.
The client showed up a little before ten but I had the conference room prepared already, so I went to get David. This is about the bank that I have been working on. During the meeting the client just raved and raved about this other bank that we had designed and how he liked how it functioned. The only problem was that he was in love with the details and function of large banks, but he wanted us to actually find a way to make his already tiny bank smaller.
After the meeting I sat down with David and told him that I did not mean for him to take the letter personally, that it was not meant as a personal attack. He told me that he was offended by it because when I graduated he fought to get me a job there at the firm and my letter pretty much calls him on the carpet. I did not know that, so I feel bad at this point. However, that doesn’t change a lot. I feel bad, yes, but my points in my letter are still quite valid.
We really only talked about a couple of points. First he talked about my issue with my pay. He told me that I probably make twenty-five percent more than anyone else in this town my age in my position. Is this true? I don’t know, there is really no way for me to find out. Then he went on to say how it is cheap to live in Wichita Falls, and if I remember correctly he claimed that it was cheap to live single. He said that they felt like they had compensated me quite well, more than they normally would, and they did even more in retirement account stuff (which is true, I forget about that sometimes, so I’ll concede a small portion of this point).
Okay, let’s look at this logically… (A) Why should I get paid based on how much it costs to live? Just because I make enough money to survive doesn’t mean that I am being paid “well.” I mean, I get paid well, but I do not feel that my wage matches my work and the stress level that comes with my job. Assistant managers at McDonalds are getting paid as much as me! Come on!
(B) It actually isn’t that cheap to live in Wichita Falls. Sure, it isn’t Boston or something, but it isn’t that cheap either. Rent here isn’t outrageous, but it isn’t cheap. Food here, however, is outrageous. There is just no competition to keep prices low. It is the same way with any kind of entertainment.
(C) You think you are paying me enough? Obviously not, because I am not staying. Oh, and do you think I am being outrageous in wanting to get paid more (I should remind everyone here that I really have no desire to make a lot of money, it actually has almost no bearing on anything, it’s really all to make this point here:)?
Well, I am going to guess that since three people are leaving the firm this summer, including me, and since we have the potential of getting four large projects next year that BYSP is looking for new employees. They are. I am going to venture out on a limb here now and guess that they are having a hard time finding people that want to move to Wichita Falls and make just enough money to survive. Honestly, if you are going to live in this town and work this stressful of a job, you are going to want to be making enough money to make it worth it somehow.
That is why I mention it, more than anything, because they are about to find themselves in a tight spot short on employees, and I guarantee it will be cheaper to pay employees what they want than it is to turn away projects. So I hope they learn a lesson and learn that, yes, you must actually pay people to move to Wichita Falls.
The other points we talked about were my complaint that I had a hard time getting into communication with clients (and DP pointed out that most people my age would never even meet clients, so I concede this point to him) and about my complaint that my private time was interrupted for “vanity projects.” He told me how that is just how this business works, you have to make sacrifices to get things done. I told him, yes, I know that and I am fine with it. If I have to work weekends or get called at three in the morning about a school project or something like that, it isn’t going to bother me. What bothered me was my weekends being interrupted because some guy needs to quickly build a house because he has lots of money.
He didn’t bring up any other points and I didn’t feel the need to either, so I take that to mean that he didn’t feel like he had a response to them. Which, I am sure, means that I obviously made a very good point.
Supposedly, if he can find time in his busy schedule (I mean that literally, not sarcastically), Dick Bundy might be writing me a letter of response, so we will see how that goes.
So after out little discussion I decided to head out to this bank that our client was raving about to get a feel for the place so I could try to work it into the design. It was during lunch, so I didn’t bother to try to call ahead to talk to nobody because the manager was most likely out to lunch, so I just went on over.
When I showed up I introduced myself to the receptionist, told her who I was with and that I would like to look around because we are designing a bank for someone. This is a touchy subject, especially at a place with such security issues as a bank, so I asked for permission to do so. She said it was not a big deal, so I roamed around the lobby for about five minutes, taking a few measurements by counting floor tiles and just getting a general feel for the flow.
While doing this several people came up to me and asked me if I needed help, to which I kindly explained to them what I was doing – that is until the fourth person came up to me and asked if I needed help, I told her no, I was tired of explaining myself.
So, after getting a feel for the place I take off and head toward the site of the new bank. On my way back to the office I get a phone call from my dad informing me that the cops are looking for me. This phone call has happened far too often. I do not know why, but for some reason I have, without breaking the law, attracted the attention of law enforcement too much lately. “Meth dealers have had less run-ins with the police than I have, lately,” I am thinking.
Apparently the bank had taken note of my tag number and had called the cops on me. They were told that I came into the bank without talking to anyone and started to walk around and write down camera locations. This seems a bit preposterous to me, considering I was staring at floor tiles most of the time trying to get measurements of the space.
So, needless to say, I am kind of pissed off at this point. So I ask my dad who called the cops on me, and he told me. He suggested I call the bank back to get this figured out, but I suggested I drive over there and ask them, “What the fuck?!”
So I drove back to the bank, walked in the front door and asked for Carla – I was pointed to an office to the side. This was the last day who asked if I needed any help – the one I simply said, “No,” to.
So I walked up to her, spread out my arms, and said, “I have come to turn myself in.” I said it quite sarcastically though, not hiding the fact that I was upset by the whole situation.
She said it looked suspicious that I would just walk in without talking to anyone and start looking around - I interrupted her, turned and pointed at the receptionist not ten feet away and said, “I talked to her. Did you bother asking her?”
She told me how they cannot know if I am who I claim to be, I could just claim to be anyone and blah blah – I interrupted her again, “That is why I asked for permission first.
At that point you could have asked me to leave or pretty much anything. I don’t know what else you want from me.”
She told me how they just have to be careful being so far out on the edge of town so that when something looks suspicious they have to look into it. I said, “Fair enough.”
What I did not say, at this point, was how I knew every square inch of their building by memory. What I did not do at this point was tell her where her vault was and how I knew that to refill the ATM you had to walk down a short, but public, corridor to get from the vault to the ATM. If I wanted to at this point I could have said enough to not only get myself arrested, but have it done rather violently. It did cross my mind, though.
She thanked me for coming back to settle the whole thing and that she would call the cops off. She also offered a few design ideas based on some bad experiences of theirs. I thanked her, though I don’t know why you need to thank someone for telling the cops that you are, in fact, not a felon. Sure, I need money for Prague, but that is just a bit far.
So, when I got back to the office I decided to inform David Potter of the fact that I had the cops called on me before he found out through some other channels, to which he rolled his eyes.
So, interesting day – and it only took me forty minutes to tell the story. My music isn’t don’t download, yet. Oh, and today (yesterday, now) was my Dad's birthday. HAPPY BITHDAY, DAD!
Yeah, I took a nap..
There was a disaster... I don’t remember what it was, but basically there was a coming flood or something... not like in a Noah and the Ark type flood, just a flood, or a storm of some kind.
Instead of sticking around Wichita Falls to help out (which I felt I should do) I went to Olney, Texas (I am doing a job there right now.) But I didn’t ever decide to go to Olney, I just ended up there.
When I got to Olney I found their "City Hall" - which was a small and open building - full of people with elk, some riding them, some leading them with a rope, all waiting in line for help. It was so packed that I felt I couldn't help (or didn’t want to help) so I walked over to some other building, which had a lot of city offices in it and the city library (though I don’t know how I knew that). There were two librarians sitting in the library typing furiously. I sat and watched for a moment or two and thought about leaving. One of the librarians was kind of cute (this is key, for some reason, because if she hadn’t been I wouldn’t have…). So I went in and asked if I could help, and they just kind of laughed, saying something about how it would be impossible to explain what they were doing, and said no. At this point, I realized the cute librarian wasn’t really that cute, though she has been from far away (I include this because it is weird).
So I kept walking.
At some point I came across the site of the building I designed, but I don’t remember it. Instead I remember all these ropes going up into this cloud, obviously (and I knew it to be true because I had something to do with it) holding it in place - which, if you have never imagined this before, it is a pretty stunning picture - and it was dusk.
Two things are going on at this point. (1) I am thinking, "We weren't trying to rope in God, we were just trying to control that cloud, as you can plainly see. The ropes are holding that cloud in place, simple as that." As if I was answering an accusation.
(2) I was trying to get into my truck, which was parked on this cliff (not strangely, though) and I was trying to get into it. I was clearing some stuff out when I realized that I was on the cliff side, and I was in danger of falling off because there wasn’t a lot of room next to the truck.
A few seconds later I realize I am on the passenger side of the truck, so my cleaning is pointless, because I have just thrown everything in the drivers seat and there is no easy way to get back around to the driver's side of the truck without having to walk dangerously close to the edge of the cliff (and I was already kind of slipping every once in a while just standing there cleaning). So i considered just climbing in the passenger side of the truck but for some reason I found that this was impossible.
I don’t remember how I got back to Wichita Falls, but I remember lying about eating at a Wienerschnitzel (which I never eat at - but more importantly, I didn’t realize I had said it until after it was out of my mouth, and then realized, "that was a lie") - which I couldn’t have eaten at because it was still under construction. When I said I ate there, though, my boss (David Potter) says something like, "Yeah, isn’t that one a lot nicer than the old one?" and I was confused as to the fact that there was an old one.
That is all I remember of it. Weird.
Amateur dream interpretation… hahahahahahahaha
Flood
To see a raging flood with its muddy debris, signifies that you will have much unsettling occurrences and tribulations in life. Your repressed emotions may be overwhelming you.
To dream that you are swept away by a flood, forewarns that someone is trying to use you.
To see a gentle flood, indicates that your worries over a certain matter will be soon be swept away.
The flood in the dream was gentle, if it was there at all, but the whole point was that there was something worse coming (which nothing ever did).
Storm
To see a storm in your dream, signifies overwhelming struggle, shock, devastating loss and catastrophe in your personal affairs. The storm also represents unexpressed fears or emotions, such as anger, rage, turmoil, etc. On a more positive note, the storm signifies the rising of spirit within.
To dream that you take cover in a storm, foretells that whatever disturbance or problems is occurring in your life will quickly blow over. Consider also the phrase "weather the storm", which suggests your ability and strength to withstand whatever comes.
None of this really applies, since the storm never came. But maybe that is significant in itself.
Traveling
To dream that you are traveling, signifies the journey toward your life goals and a journey through life in general. that you enjoy what you do and find much pleasure in it.
To dream that you are traveling through an unknown area, denotes the lurking of your rivals.
To dream that you are traveling in a car filled with people, signifies that you will make new and fun friends and exciting adventures.
To dream that you are traveling in a car by yourself, signifies troubling matters ahead for you.
I travelled, but none of it was in the dream, so maybe none of this applies.
Elk
To see an elk in your dream, symbolizes strength and endurance. It is an indication that you need to spend more time with friends and eat healthier.
I'll buy that.
Library
To dream that you are in a library, signifies the search for knowledge and the hunger for ideas. You may be trying to seek out new meanings in life or you need to study and evaluate your situation before taking action.
To see a library in your dream, symbolizes the knowledge you have accumulated over the years.
Um... I can buy that too, especially the first part.
Ropes
To see ropes in your dream, represents some connection or a way to tie/hold things together.
To dream that you are walking on a rope, denotes that you will engage in a doubtful investment but it will prove to be successful.
To dream that you are climbing up a rope, indicates your determination to succeed and overcome adversity. It may also represent your climb to the top. If you are climbing down a rope, then it indicates that you are experiencing disappointments and decline in some business affair.
To dream that you are tied up in ropes, signifies that you will let your heart guide you contrary to your better judgment.
So only the first part even kind of applies, but I don't really know how.
Clouds
To see fluffy white clouds in your dream, signify inner peace and spiritual harmony. An issue in your waking life may be clearing up.
To see gray and gloomy clouds in your dream, signify depression or anger. Your decisions may be clouded in some way.
To see menacing or stormy clouds in your dream, indicates an impending eruption of emotions. It also represents a lack of wisdom or confusion in some situation.
There was just one cloud, and it was nice. It wasn't big and white, but that is because it was dusk, it was mostly pink and shadowy.
Dusk
To see the dusk of day in your dream, signifies defeated hopes and a dark, gloom outlook in your endeavors.
It was beautiful. I don't buy this.
God
To see God in your dream, signifies your spirituality and expression of your feelings about divinity. God also symbolizes an untouchable, unreachable, and unattainable notion of perfection. Thus such a dream may highlight your struggles and attempts with trying to be perfect.
To dream that you are worshipping God, signifies repentance of your actions and errors.
To dream that God speaks to you, signifies feelings of guilt, eternal punishment, and damnation.
To dream that you are a god, implies your own special talents which you have not yet recognized or have not fully developed. Alternatively, it suggests your feelings of superiority over others. **View the Dream Bank: "God Is Dead"
Try to reach perfection. That is about the closest thing in my own life, but as far as the dream goes, not any of this applies.
Cliff
To dream that you are standing at the edge of a cliff, denotes that you have arrived to an increased level of understanding, new awareness, and a fresh point of view. You may have reached a critical point in your life and may fear losing control.
I'll buy all of that.
Cleaning
To dream that you are cleaning, implies that you are removing some negativity in your life and overcoming major obstacles. You are moving ahead toward a new stage in your life. In particular, if you are cleaning your house, then it signifies that you need to clear out your thoughts and get rid of your old ways and habits. You are seeking self-improvement.
To dream that you are cleaning an object, represents an aspect of yourself that is not working or functioning as well as it should. If you are cleaning the refrigerator or oven, then it indicates that you are getting to root of a matter or situation. It may also indicate negative feelings about the female role or that you are feeling inferior or stuck in some area of your life.
To dream that you are cleaning out a desk, suggests that you are getting rid of the burdens that has been weighing you down. You are acknowledging your new choices, decisions, and a new sense of freedom.
The first part... maybe, but it turned out that the cleaning was pointless. So maybe I have been doing pointless removing of negativity in my life? haha
Okay, I guess it is finally time…
For anyone that does not know, this is where I am from. I was born here and raised here. It is an okay place, I guess. At least, to look at it from the outside, and on the surface. But I am not going to get into why this town is not for me, right now. Right now, I am going to tell the story of why I am here at all.
Throughout my years of college, while not in school (read: winters and some summers) I worked here in town for an architecture firm called Bundy Young Sims and Potter. When I first started at BYSP I was doing rather mundane work. They had recently switched over from a UNIX based system to windows, and I was converting all of their old CAD files (that is Computer Aided Drafting, for those not in the field). Honestly, that summer was a struggle to stay awake while at work. Oh, and to not die, but I will get to that in a future post I have planned entitled “Why I Left the church” little C.
As I continued to work for them over winters and summer, and one semester as an internship that I got school credit for, I got to do more and more actual work.
All that to say, when it came time to graduate and I was looking for a job, they were the obvious place to go. I had already “paid my dues” as some morons of the anti-culture like to say. I knew that when I got there I would start working on projects, and not be taking my boss’ dog on a walk like many of my fellow students who were going to work for big firms. Another attraction of BYSP was that they have always been very good and very patient with teaching, which is crucial in architecture, because, honestly, you can only learn so much in school and that isn’t very much.
That, however, is not why I came back to Wichita Falls, that was my fall back plan. Though, when asked, that is what I told most people when they asked what I was doing after graduation.
The big reason that I came back to Wichita Falls is the Spark.
The Spark is a coffee business Stuart and I run together. It is kind of a crazy dream, so I will go into it’s history.
On a cold evening in March around three years ago (maybe November?), whatever the case, both Stuart and I had been in Wichita Falls for a holiday and were now heading back to school, him to Waco and me to College Station. I didn’t know it at the time, but Stuart had left only ten minutes before I had that evening.
At the time I had been praying that God show me, or put on my heart, what he wants me to do – where he wants me, basically. Stuart and I had both worked at a coffee shop called the Rock at the end of high school, and we both enjoyed it immensely (outside of dealing with our boss), and we both studied coffee and enjoyed mastering the art of it. Well, as I had been praying all of this for some reason this huge dream kept popping into my head about Stuart and I opening a coffee shop here in the Falls for the kids. The dream was to have a place where kids could come and hang out, build community (you know how I have always talked about that lacking here, well, it has always been true) and just be themselves.
During the drive, around Bowie, it started to get extremely foggy and my windshield wipers stopped working suddenly, so I could hardly see where I was going. I do not remember why, but I ended up calling Stuart and found out he was jut a few minutes ahead of me. We agreed to stop in Decatur until the fog cleared, since I wasn’t going anywhere with no windshield wipers.
When we got there we got some ice cream from the Baskin-Robbins, which is no longer there, and sat down to talk. I do not know who mentioned it first, but we got to talking about it and both of us had this coffee shop thing on our hearts. That is pretty fucking crazy, right? That both of us separately, not having talked about the Rock in a few years had all the sudden been wanting to open a coffee shop after graduation?!!?
So, we decided to go for it.
Over the course of the last few years we have sat down and laid out a business plan and gone through every possible scenario for training and running of the business. We have it all organized into employee handbooks, and a handbook for ourselves on how we have decided to handle and run things.
In the mean time we had also put together a system for catering (that is right, catering) coffee. That doesn’t just mean taking coffee places, that means a portable espresso bar, basically. It wasn’t an easy or cheap task, but we accomplished it. We did it so that we could get started on our dream without having to wait for the store, and to get out our name so that when the store opened, people would all know who we are.
Honestly, that has gone okay. Now-a-days we do most of our catering for First Baptist Church (the church we both grew up in) and that is about it. We do, however, get asked all the time if we have a store or when we plan on opening one.
Well, the store…
This was the whole point, right? This place for community and relationship. This dream that I (still) believe came from God.
Well, like I said, we had it all planned out, but the problem was money (as it always is). We got stuck there for a long time, and didn’t know what to do or how to do it. But eventually we started putting figures together and decided that we could only accomplish this through investors (not borrowing money from a bank) who were more interested in investing in the community than in a business, because this wasn’t going to be the type of place to make a lot of money and make it quickly.
The brakes? What brought all of this to a halt? I do not want to be too harsh here or come off as if I am saying this as blame, because I am not, it is just the plain and simple truth.
Stuart got married one year a week and a day ago. It might not seem like this would put the brakes on the Spark, but it has. I do not see how we can move forward with it. The whole thing is a huge financial risk. There is all the possibility of going bankrupt and who knows what.
And if it did work, that would mean 18 hour days and peanut butter and jelly for a long time. I am okay with this, I think. As is Stuart, or as was Stuart. It would be something we love to do for a reason which is close to our hearts (community), so every moment of sacrifice to get it running would be worth it.
However, now that Stuart is married, I cannot in good conscience ask him to take that kind of financial risk and sacrifice of time. He has a wife, and he can’t spend all of his time away from her. Even if she was up there with us it would be a huge strain on a young marriage. I am not willing to ask for that.
So, the Spark is dead. At least right now it is. I have no clue about the future. We still do the catering thing, and I honestly enjoy that most of the time. I would probably enjoy it more if I were willing to put my heart into it like I once was – but I am not.
Why? For future reference, I want you to remember this as case one of a huge dream which I believe was given to me by God being ripped away from me. And that doesn’t just mean taken away. It was deep inside me. It was part of who I was. I was dedicated to it and I loved it. I don’t know if I loved it more than God and blah blah all that. I don’t know. Probably, but I am just a man, I can be nothing more. But I loved being used by God to foster community. And it was ripped away from me. Torn from my heart.
That isn’t extremely chronological, I know, but I am about to get that way.
When I realized that this was not going to happen (over a year ago) was the first time I realized that I needed to leave Wichita Falls. At the time I didn’t give it a lot of though, I just knew that I needed to not be here for a while. I just didn’t know where I was supposed to go.
That is when two things happened that kept me in this town longer.
I don’t know why, but this one hurts more. It has never been as public; I have never talked about it as much. It seems a million years and a light year away. It almost seems fake right now because I am so separated from it (by hurt). I don’t know how else to say it than that. But, I will say this, my heart hurts to think about it.
Remember that internship that I mentioned doing with BYSP during school? One day after work I was walking to my truck and I stopped as I exited the building at the top of our stairs. From this point you have an amazing view of downtown (which, I guess it is important to mention, where most the homeless in this town spend their time). As I looked out over downtown I had this vision. It is hard to explain and I honestly can give you no details or anything like that (as to how it works, that is) – but anyways – I had this vision of the people of Wichita Falls joining together with the homeless, not to pity them, but to become one with them. To join together into one community through God.
I can only imagine that this vision came from God, since this kind of thing had been on my heart at the time (I assume it to have been put there by Him).
It was beautiful, really (though it pains me to say that). This is what seems so far away. Seems almost fake. This vision hurts me so badly that I wish it had never happened at times. I do not know why, but that is the case.
Skip forward several years to about a year ago (or a little more). At this time I had been going to a church here in town (having already left the church I grew up in) and at that time it was going pretty well.
Every day at work I would stand in the break room and look out across the street at this two storey brick house (around 80 years old, I would find out later) and I would, for reasons beyond me, imagine it as a haven for the homeless; a place to come and be treated like people, and to stay the night if they needed it. It would be their place of community and humanity (I mean, they would be treated like human beings, people).
I say all of this because, yes, there are homeless shelters in this town, but they basically just preach at people and throw food at them. They actually try to help very few people. My vision (of the vision I was given?) was of a place more based on community than on getting people preached at and fixed.
I didn’t tell anyone this dream for a long time. I kept it to myself. However, as I grew more comfortable with a friend of mine at church (his name is Brady) I eventually told him of my dream. I ended up telling my parents about it and my grandparents.
My parents were surprisingly supportive as were my grandparents (though they thought I needed to be personally aware of the dark sides of homelessness before getting into this). I told a couple other close friends also.
I knew it was crazy, but I felt like God had given me this vision, and why would he give me all these visions and dreams just to sit on them? Did he not say that if we waste what he has provided for us it will be taken away? So, after a while I finally got up the courage to call the number on the for sale sign in front of the house and scheduled a walk through with Brady (his father works in construction and he could help me figure out what all the house needed to be brought back to life).
So the day came and we all met out there. We got into the house, and besides one of the bathtubs being full of poop from homeless people and half the plumbing missing from the house, it was actually in really good shape.
I really did not know how to proceed at this time, so I kind of just sat on it for about a month. I not know if I should quit my job and throw myself into money raising money and fixing up then running the place or what.
So, after about a month of (praying? I don’t know, I think I must have prayed about it) when I did not know what to do… well, one day, the for sale sign was gone. A family (or group of families, I believe) bought the house and moved in (I don’t know what they did about the plumbing) and lived there for almost a year. Until a month or so ago when the tried to burn down a good portion of the house.
This is case number two of having something that I believe came from God and was implanted in the deepest parts of me being ripped out of my heart and away from me. I will now recall you to the post entitled “giving” in which I discuss my unwillingness to give my heart to a cause or anything like that, and I said that there reasons why… these are the two main reasons.
I knew again that I should leave Wichita Falls, at least for a little while. But then…
I met April. April was different than most girls I have met. Our relationship was honest and open and communicative; one of those that you can just talk about anything and everything with. It was enough to keep in Wichita Falls for a while longer, though I will not get into all the details – it did not end well, though it did end.
Looking back on all of this, it is very confusing. All these dreams… what about them? These visions from God? Were they from God? Did I interpret them wrong? Try to do them myself? I do not know why they were taken away from me. Maybe it was simply the wrong time. Maybe God has places to take me (physically, emotionally and spiritually) before it is time to see the fruits of these visions.
Needless to say, I once again decided that I needed to leave this town. This time seriously thinking about it. Should I go back to school, get my masters? A&M or University of Texas at Arlington? Should I just move to Dallas? Eh. Austin? Maybe. Seattle? That’s kind of cool.
Then one day Jay called and told me he was moving to Prague. “Good, I’m glad you are finally going,” I told him. “Yeah, you want to come with me?” he asked. “Do what?” “Yeah, I figured it would be a lot better with a friend, so you want to come?” And I jokingly agreed.
However, over the next couple of weeks (these weeks, by the way, are when I was writing most of the songs the Kindness would perform) I seriously started to think about it, and one day I was just like “Why not? Prague is the only place I have considered that actually excites me. I would love to get away from America for a while and experience a new culture. See new things. Try something hard and scary and break free from all of this nonliving.” And, like I said, Prague is the only city I have considered moving to that has put a smile on my face (and a huge one at that).
So I called Jay back and told him I was in, though it was about half an hour into our conversation that he realized that I was actually serious, no longer just joking.
Honestly, writing about this all has stirred up some weird emotions. It makes me wonder if I am really supposed to leave Wichita Falls and leave all of these dreams behind. But like I said, these dreams seem millions of miles away from me now. I am going somewhere else right now. These dreams aren’t close to me anymore. (Though the dream of true community will always be close to my heart.) It would be easy and safe to turn around and return to them, but I am not going to do that. If God wants me to return one day so that He can fulfill these dreams, then He will just have to take me on that journey.
I haven’t done this in a long time, but I ask that anyone reading this please pray a little prayer for me in this respect. For God to guard my heart and to heal me of the wounds caused by the events I have told of in this post. That if He wants me to be part of these dreams He will bring me back to them some day.
Right now... I am thoroughly confused. I am going to think for a little while. But I think it might just be this… I have made my decision. I am moving to Prague. I am not going to let some emotions from the past keep me from a future. Maybe this future will bring me back here better able to handle the communitilessness of Wichita Falls and God will (and is planning on) using that.
As an update:
Soon after writing this I decided to take a nap. Actually, what I said to myself was, “I need to go to sleep and be nobody for a while.” Which, if you do not know, is quite a strange thing to say to ones self. So I went to sleep for a while.
When I woke up I found myself praying, “Please let me go to Prague. I need to see that people actually live and do not just slowly die all the time.” Which, if you do not know, is quite a strange thing to wake up praying.
I do not know what I think I will find in Prague, but I can tell you what I hope to find. That is, simply put, life. I do not think that people in Prague are any more alive than people here or anything like that. I don’t even think it is going to be some big “religious experience” or anything like that. But I think it will be a nice time away from the things that have been holding me back here. Not that I will escape what has been holding me back inside.
I have explained it before like this:
I am currently taking an antidepresent called klonopin. The drug is not designed to make you happy, that is what people who misuse it use it for. The drug is designed to free your mind of what has been controlling it (in my case, severe anxiety) so that you can actually deal with your problems instead of having them control you. I see my move to Prague in much the same way. Removing some influences to better face my own problems.
Maybe that sounds stupid, I do not know, but that is how I see it right now.
So, after my little “concert” tonight, I have been thinking…
It was kind of fun, I enjoyed myself. But it wasn’t really fun. It isn’t going down as a great memory or anything.
But why?
Well, I think I have a theory.
Doing things by yourself sucks.
Don’t get me wrong. There are many things in this world that should be done alone. For example: pooping, or bathing.
However, for the most part, having friends and a community around to do stuff with, even crazy or stupid things, is always for the better. It is that friendship and community, however, that is severely lacking from Wichita Falls, at least for me.
Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of people here, and good people at that. Many people that I can be friends with, but no one really who has similar ideas or interests as me (does that sound really narcissistic?), not to say I am terribly original or anything like that, it’s just that those types of people aren’t really around these parts.
Most people my age have left this town, and have not returned. But those that are my age and are still in this town are either married and having babies, or are trying to get married so they can have babies.
Half of me wants to call all of these people damn stupid for throwing away their youth on such stuff. However, there is also a half of me that suspects that is what these people want – so, I shall leave them as they are (I just hope it isn’t what they think they should want, and are just doing it because that is what society expects out of them at this point in their lives).
Either way, I just know that is not for me – especially not right now. So, what else can I do but leave? If there is almost no possibility of finding people with which to form a community?
This is not to say that I have not tried to be parts of communities around here before. I have. I even regularly went to a church for a good while, but I always felt like an outsider in that community (You can only get so close to guys who spend a good portion of their lives watching and then quoting Will Farrell movies - not to be shallow, but we are obviously just different types of people). And that was the best church that I could find (of the ones I went to, and of the ones I was suggested to go to).
Anyways, it is late and I am rambling.
(I am still up this late and rambling for two reasons. (1) I was up until five or six o’clock this morning and then slept until three pm, so I have only been up for 12 hours. (2) Our A/C went out this afternoon, so it is currently 85 degrees in this house (though around 69 degrees outside – I don’t know how to explain that. All the windows are open.)
And, of course, no list of this sort would be complete without the zeroith most annoying thing someone can do in line at a convenience store.
This is stereotyping, I know (but if you don’t want to be stereotyped, stop being so stereotypical), but it is always that guy that you can just look at and know that instead of buying cigarettes and scratch-offs, what he should really be doing is taking that forty bucks home so that he can feed his wife and kids for the week.
Dude, go home to your family.
So, all of this lately has given me an idea. A website, or something, that is basically a collection of ideas on how to raise up a cultural revolution in all the small cultureless towns of this great country of ours.
These ideas might not always be legal (for example, what I did tonight was not legal, it was trespassing) but they should always be peaceful.
Um… that is all I have right now, but I just wanted to make note of it, for future pondering.
Well, I have now finished the three tasks I set for myself.
I have written about as much as I am going to about the first one, since it is all pretty personal and what. However, on to the other two...
Relay For Life
Last night (Friday night through Saturday morning, that is) was Relay for Life. When I got to work Friday morning I was worried as to how Ken and I were going to organize this whole poker tournament fund raiser, however, when I got there he had done it all himself. He did a really amazing job. So I took his schedule, and made a poster out of it, and we spent the rest of the day being only half way productive (trying to get all this last minute stuff done).
We also spent lunch playing a tournament of Texas Hold’em to practice dealing and getting down all the small details of the game. Ken was really helpful in this department, which I am extremely thankful for because everyone else in the office knowledgable about poker decided that they didn’t want to help us out, which left the poker part up to me, Ken and the other Clifton (yeah, have I ever mentioned we have two Cliftons in our 18 person office – originally I tried to get everyone to call him Clark, but that didn’t work).
When Relay time came, I got out there and help set up the tent, but Ken was running late. Come to find out, Wal-Mart said they would give us 8 gift certificates, but when we got there, they only gave us three (need anymore more reasons Wal-Mart is evil?). So Ken was trying to figure out how to redo the schedule because of that.
We got the tables set up and everything, and we didn’t have anyone to play. Eventually, however, we got a bunch of guys to come over and play, and we ended up raising $425 from the poker tables, which is a little more than half of what we estimated our maximum potential raising to be.
I dealt most of the night, which got extremely hard the more tired I got. You try dealing a table of seven people playing Hold’em at three am. I got to play three games, also. I kicked some serious ass on the first game I played (against some guys who ended up being pretty good), but I lost fairly early on in the second game. The third game? Oh, I kicked some ass again. And I don’t even play poker.
But, for some more serious aspects of the night…
The whole point of Relay For Life, if you do not know, is to raise money for American Cancer Society, who sponsor many cancer relief projects – such as those designed to help people newly diagnosed learn how to handle the fucking disease – and sponsors research to find a cure for cancer.
Why do I care?
(Now, this is going to get a little personal, and dig into the past a little bit, which I am not very good at, honestly. Sometimes I feel this and sometimes I am just numb to it – but feel it or not, I shall talk about it now.)
Everyone that I have been really close to that has died has been taken by cancer.
My grandfather (papa, that is – my dad’s dad) died when I was around eight years old. I honestly did not know him that well, for many reasons. I was obviously fairly young when he died and he and my grandmother got a divorce before I was born (not that that meant he wasn’t around a lot, he was, but he wasn’t around as much as he would have been, you know). I do, however, remember many things about the last few months of his life.
At that time, my aunt lived down the street from my grandmother (his ex-wife) and my grandfather stayed there as he went through cancer treatment. I guess we all knew he wouldn’t make it, because we were all over there all the time. I remember that summer it got up to 113 degrees almost every day and we would sit out in the backyard of garage and eat Vienna sausages (gross, now that I think back on it, but great at the time) and my grandfather and somehow gotten his hands on an old evaporation type air conditioner, which basically just blows air through a stream of dripping water which, through evaporation, cools the air.
I remember this particularly because I think it made my grandfather happy. This was the kind of stuff he was best at, solving these types of problems. Heh.My grandmother (babsha, that is, Polish for grandmother – my mom’s mom) died a few years later. I do not know if I remember her better, or just remember remembering times with her better. I don’t remember her last months as well, but I do remember before that. When I was young (and by that, I mean around five or so) I would spend weekends at my grandparents and I would sit in bed with her and she would read me all kinds of stories and I would ask all kinds of questions, and we would just talk for hours and hours. I remember this because she taped every one of these sessions, and I have them tucked away somewhere that I don’t know about (which is probably a good things since I have the habit of abandoning all of my possessions every few years).
I also remember that she was really smart, and liked to plan out elaborate opening of Christmas presents, with card leading to clues leading to other clues, eventually leading to presents – and she did this often for my grandfather.
My grandmother was first diagnosed with cancer before I was born, and even before the first treatment she went into remission. She was actually mentioned in many textbooks (I am told) as a miracle.
I remember her funeral, though. Well, that isn’t exactly true. I remember the times surrounding her funeral, and all the family; Talking with my cousins, who I have never really been close with other than this time.
The third, and final, person in this list isn’t a family member at all. Teresa was a lady that worked at BYSP (that is the firm I work for) when I first got there many years ago for my first internship. She was, honestly, one of those most amazing and honest and Godly ladies you could ever have met. She was a great encouragement to me in a very hard time in my life. The one thing I remember best about her is how she was just her. No pretensions or anything, and therefore, you could get along with her quite easily.
When she was first diagnosed with cancer I was back at A&M, and honestly, I did not handle it well. That is not to say that I was all torn but about it. Actually, I just couldn’t handle it, and I ignored it. Pretty stupid, I know, but it is the truth. She pulled through for several years, though, and was still hanging in when I got back to BYSP after graduation. At this point, I couldn’t ignore it anymore and I visited her a couple of times in the hospital (she was in the hospital because the cancer was spreading and she didn’t have much time left).
All in all, I was a horrible friend through it all. Even those last few months I rarely went to visit her, and never without other people from the office. Even those times I did I considered not going.
By this time in my life hypochondria was firmly implanted into the deepest parts of me, and I always thought (and still do at times) that I was dying of some sort of cancer. I wish I could have been there more, but it is not an easy thing to do to watch someone slowly die like that right in front of you.
Teresa was different in this respect than my grandparents that died because I was actually old enough to really be affected by it. That was a few years ago, now, and I hope I have grown since that time, but honestly, I do not want to have to find out.
Okay, I think that is all I am going to talk about that subject… but there is more. That was last night, and there is still tonight to talk about.
My (not so) Impromptu Concert
I guess you could consider it impromptu to other people, but I planned it out, you know – even going as far as to order a play list (and write it on my arm) before going.
Before the “concert”, however, I went to dinner with my parents. I told them what I was doing and why I am doing it – my mother thought it was funny and my dad thought I was crazy. But you, I have not told you all of why I decided to do it.
Two reasons, really. Firstly, like I said in a previous blog, I wanted to do it because I realized how much fear I live in. One of those types of fear has to do with the illusion of dignity. I, for some reason, have always tried to keep an air of dignity about myself. Looking close, I assume I do this because I am afraid of making a fool of myself, or because of what other people will think about me.
I have never found this to be a positive aspect of myself, or a very useful one. So why keep it around? So, playing music on a street corner or something seems like a good way to get around this. I realize this is probably more accepted in other cities, but in Wichita Falls this would be considered the height of insanity. So to start a road to put this certain type of fear behind me, I decided to do what is not particularly acceptable.
The other main reason I did this, however, is because this town is boring and has absolutely no culture. Honestly, if something like this is considered to be crazy, there is something wrong with a town. So, in order to challenge that idea (and maybe encourage other to do the same) I decided that doing this type of thing would be a good going away present to the city.
I could get more into this type of psychological and sociological aspects of the situation, as I did with my parents, but I really don’t feel like it at the moment, since I have done it many times, and will probably do it many other times.
Let me say this, shortly, though… This town is conservative to a fault. It is scared of change. It is the kind of place that oppresses (and encourages the personal oppression) of all true emotion and leaves people dead inside. I do not know how a town can do that, but it is my experience that that is this town.
When I told this to my parents they had the same reaction as when I told Stuart, “Well, now you’ve got us depressed.” Stuart even went as far as to accuse me of being negative. But do you not see how this is not negative? This is positive! This is calling shit, shit and hoping for something more, something better!
To get back to the mall, I showed up a little early and got my guitar in tune. Then a few minutes before nine o’clock I grabbed my guitar and headed toward the exit by the bookstore. Honestly, the scariest part of this whole experience was walking up there with my guitar.
Once I got there, and put my guitar on, I just started playing, and I had fun. I ended up skipping a few of my slower songs, just because they didn’t seem to be going so well in that environment, but I played every song I have other than that – which took around twenty minutes.
So, while I was playing many people walked by. I tried to make eye contact with everyone, and many smiled, some giggled a little bit (but in a positive way), but some people were visual uncomfortable with me being there. I do not exactly understand why this would make someone uncomfortable, but I am okay with that. If this makes you uncomfortable, maybe you need to be made uncomfortable a little more often.
At one point some guys came up and were like, “BUSH! Play some Bush!” I told them I do not know any Bush. “Icubus?” Nope, sorry. “Grateful Dead?” as he proceded to *wheeena wheee warrrr duuu* play over exagurated air guitar. No, I don’t know any Grateful Dead, either. I told them I don’t really learn other peoples’ songs (and if I did, I surely would not learn those kinds of songs – though I kept that part to myself).
So, after about twenty minutes (that is how long it takes me to play all my two minute songs) I took my guitar off and walked away. I was surprised really, to not be asked to leave or anything of the sort.
However, as I put my guitar into my truck, I turned around and saw a cop car slowly driving past where I had just been playing. It could have been a coincidence, but the cops rarely drive around the mall parking lot as far as I know (because the mall has their own security company which does that for them). So, maybe they were coming to talk to me, maybe not. I will never know, because I was gone by that point.
So, that is just about all of it. I wish I could better remember what I told my parents about this town. How it sucks the life out of people and doesn’t allow them to live. I wish I realized why it does so (other than it’s ultra conservative “good old boy” attitudes). And by “good old boy” I mean everything wrong with the conservative viewpoint.
Maybe more on that later, after I have pondered it for a while.
(I know my blogs have been long lately, and probably really boring, but I apologize for that – but only a little bit. Right now, this thing is more for me than for anything else. As Prague grows closer, it will become more of my way to keep in touch with people, though I hope not the only way I keep in touch.)
It’s late and I should be in bed. Especially considering I have to stay up 24 hours tomorrow – and be awake enough to run poker table (though we aren’t allowed to call them ‘poker’ tables). And especially considering I have only gotten my ass half in gear for Relay for Life, the other half of which will have to happen tomorrow.
I do, however, have to write about what happened tonight with Stuart and me…
When I got off work I called my dad to get his advice on cigars, and since I couldn’t remember anything he was telling me, I met him at a small liquor store here in town. He bought me and Stuart some cigars and I got some Smirnoff Ice Black Cherry and Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I got all of this ready into a cooler and – well, we will skip ahead a few hours.
I went over to Stuart’s around seven o’clock and we went out to the spill way (does that sound white trash?) and sat down to have a drink and talk a while. As we pulled in I wondered to myself, “Is this place considered a park?” (you know, because we had alcohol and such). I saw no signs, however, so I didn’t bring it up.
Stuart and I had a good time, skipping forward another hour and a half.
This cop walks up to us, “Beer and cookies, huh?”
Oh, look, it’s a cop. That is kind of weird. And Stuarts wife gave us cookies, so yeah, we had cookies (though we never ate any of them).
“And cigars!” says Stuart.
“So you boys don’t have a better place to sit around and drink?”
“Um.. yeah, I guess we could come up with one,” I say.
“You do realize these here grounds are a park, don’t you?”
“… I had wondered.”
“You boys have anything on your that I should know about?”
“I have a cucker,” I say.
“A what?”
“A – um… a cigar cutter,” I said as I showed him – he obviously didn’t find this to be the type of thing he was looking for, but really, I have seen those things used to cut off people’s thumbs on mobster movies, I think he should have been worried about it. Oh, and cucker… you see, my sister use to not be able to say the word cut, so it is common practice in my family to use the word she use to substitute for it, ‘cuck.’
The cop proceeds to ask us for our driver’s licenses and information – you know, because obviously this is a park, and you aren’t suppose to drink on city property. And to make things even more fun, at this point another cop comes up.
“Did you boys have words with anyone?”
Stuart and I look at each other. We can’t figure out exactly what he means. I think to myself *is he wondering if we got in an argument with someone and that is why we have come out here?*
“No, office, I …”
“We got a call that you guys were…”
“Wait, you got a call?” I say. “Someone called you guys out here on us?”Obviously what he was asking use with the “words with anybody” question was, “Have you been had an argument with anyone out here?”
“Yeah, you don’t think we were just walking by do you? Someone called and said you two guys were out here drunk and causing trouble.”
“… We um… okay? We can leave.”
“So you are telling me you boys have had a couple of beers and now you are going to drive?”
Stuart and I look at each other. Obviously neither of these officers has yet realized what we are drinking. I think to myself *we are drinking girly drinks, and we big guys… it is going to take quite a bit to get us drunk*.
At this point, a third cop shows up.
“Beer and cookies and cigars,” one of the officers say to the new guy.
It wasn’t long after this that he realized we were not in fact drinking beer. So the cops discussed among themselves if this area was actually part of the park, and they agreed that it probably was, but it wasn’t plainly marked.
So we sat staring at each other for a few minutes while we continue waiting for cop number four, still back in the car, to get finished running our identification to see if we were trouble makers.
The first cop realizes that he recognizes Stuart, and they have a little discussion to get that figured out. Somewhere in this time I assume that the officer figured out what exactly we were drinking. He looks at Stuart and says, “And exactly how many of those girly drinks have you had this evening?”
Stuart, looking at the two bottles sitting next to him says, “Two.”
So the cops told us that since we were obviously not causing any trouble, and that it was easily questionable as to the ‘park’ status of our location, they would let us go. I seriously thought they were going to give us breathalyzers before they let us go, but they did not. They asked us to pick up our trash and they walked off.
So, someone – and I don’t know who, because there was almost nobody out there – called the cops on us and obviously raised enough stink to have not just one, but two cop cars called on us.
We gathered up our crap and left. It had been a good five years since Stuart and I had been needlessly harassed by officers of the law.
