Trains on a Butterfly Wing

You get to a point in your life when you finally grow up. You realize the things you made such a big deal about when you were a teenager aren't as big of a deal as they were, and you even question your motives as to why you let it upset you to the extent that you did. And then you feel embarrassed by the way you acted/reacted.

I can't say I've had the same childhood as Anthony Kiedis, lead singer of my favorite band, the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Nor can I say I've had the same father/son relationship he had with his father. But I can relate to this song, on a different level. The Red Hot Chili Peppers song "Savior" until very recently just struck me as another track off of the Californication album, something I usually would skip over unless I was in that mood. That is, until I found out what the song was about, thanks to both Kiedis and his father Blackie Dammett via a YouTube video.

(side note, the RHCP are notorious for having hidden meanings in their songs, and me having the delightful inability to read between the lines has to make it a point to seek out the meanings as I can't read them myself)

The line "he's just a man and any damage done will be all right" resonates with me, especially now that I know the song is about his father. Growing up, I didn't exactly have a normal father/son relationship with my father. As this isn't a tell-all autobiography and just merely a blog post, I won't get into details. As I've grown and (in terms of this subject) matured, I've come to the realization that I was quite - you'll forgive my blunt phrasing here - a drama whore, in my teenage years. Going back and reading the things I wrote, hoping they'd become future bestsellers at the time and thinking I'd written gold, I have confirmed this notion. Now I just roll my eyes.

No one was a victim, and no one was an instigator, although 15 years ago I was telling the story quite differently. When you get two people together that are under the same mindset of "This is logical to me, and anything different is illogical and therefore wrong", and one of those person's logic goes against the other person's logic, there are bound to be problems.

As for the aforementioned writings, after much debate I've decided that they belong in what I have cleverly dubbed "The Turd Archive". I could take the time to polish them up and tweak the drama out of them but I think that time would be better spent adopting my new and improved (and still improving) writing style, and starting fresh. This decade long creativity dry spell has to end,

I didn't become addicted to drugs because my father fed them to me along with a passion for womanizing and what not, so in that way I differ from the song. But in many ways I can relate. There was a time when I wanted nothing to do with him, even thought about changing last name (see? drama whore), and then my perspective changed. It wasn't overnight; in fact it took many years for me to adopt this new perspective, but I'm glad I finally did.

He did what my grandfather did before him, and what I'm sure his father did, and so on. He made the best of what he had  Which is what I find myself doing today. Don't get me wrong it's very difficult at times. But things always have a way of working themselves out. Time does heal wounds.

The Choice For Awesome

I may have made potentially a stupid decision. A stupidly awesome decision. I'm going to do a daily vlog. Ish. I know I'm about 8-10 years too late, and no I don't think I lead that interesting of a life but the fact of the matter is I enjoy making videos. Yes, my earlier videos have basically for the most part, for lack of better terms, sucked. But that doesn't necessarily mean stop making them, and in light of recent events it's almost necessary.

I'm not going to wait until I have the perfect job or even my dream job to be awesome. In a major DUH turn of events it has occurred to me that I can be awesome while still hating what I do to put food on the table. If I am awesome to just a handful of people then it is a success. If only 30 people read my blog and 7 people watch my videos, whatever. I will have a showcase for my children that I don't have with my relatives. A chance to see them as they were. In some cases even before I knew they existed.

I have felt a little less than awesome as of late. Well I shouldn't say that. I've had intermittent spurts of awesome, but I feel like I need to be gushing with awesome and doing my part to decrease even the tiniest amount of world suck. Maybe I sort of lost it trying to figure all this true passion stuff out, that perhaps what is necessary is to keep doing what I love to do, create my own awesome as it were. Something tells me, if history proves anything, is that when the time is right, things will fall into place the way they always seem to do. I'm not saying I will just sit back and wait for these things to effect themselves, but I can't stop doing what I love just because an existential crisis is at hand.

Oh and I think I might just try my hand at NaNoWriMo in November.

Finding the St. Francis Within

This past Friday, I listened to a fascinating documentary on St. Francis of Assisi. It was very jarring in a most positive way, to the point that he may give St. Philip Neri a run for his money in terms of being my patron saint. You can have more than one, right? I hope so.

It is my understanding that Francis of Assisi was much like me, much like all of us really, through his teens and 20s. Then he found himself in an old dilapidated church and call it what you want - he had a vision upon gazing at the crucifix. The Lord told him to rebuild his church. So he did. He cleaned up and repaired that church. Obviously there was a deeper meaning to it, but from what I understand, he left that experience a changed person. He wanted to do something bigger with his life.

I'm going to stop there, lest I ruin the documentary for you. But that is where I find myself today. I'm a 31-year-old Claims Adjuster, having gone through 3 different jobs since I started working on "the edge of twenty", to borrow but not quote a phrase from Stevie Nicks. As a side note, I've recently found out that my quoting of songs in past blog posts amounted to what I am calling an accidental infringement, and thus all quotes (to the best of my ability) have been removed, sadly. I am very much a musical person, and one of those people that if we can't talk in song lyrics we can't be friends. I enjoyed making that a part of my blogs but I also don't like infringing on copyright, so it had to be done.

Doing what I do for a job, I hardly feel like the force of nature I've made it my life's goal to become. Have I discovered what my true passion is yet? I can't say that I really have, but I'm working on it. I'm not asking to become a bestselling author, celebrity chef or professional vlogger/blogger, but I do enjoy all those things. I'm trying to figure out which of my passions I could capitalize on and do for a living. Many people say cooking is my strong suit. Humbly, I say that I'm not that good. And it's true, I have a lot to learn. Everybody does. But I can't in good conscience continue to do what I'm doing, expecting to be that force of nature I'm always striving to be.

My old religion teacher always used the phrase "the workaday world", and I now get what that means. I used to write for hours every day. Now, I'm lucky to be able to sit down and pen thoughts that are swimming in my head. Ten hours of work, plus a family, does not equal much free time. It's a struggle trying to ensure everything gets done, both wants and needs.

But does it have to be?

Say my true passion does involve cooking. At present, I don't feel like me taking on any kind of cooking job would be able to pay enough to sustain my family. I know money isn't everything but hey, a Claims Adjuster salary is doable with some creative financing, and as I've said I'm no celebrity chef. Not to mention I'm sure if I wanted to do something like that, I should have thought of that after high school and not as I enter my 30s.

Thinking about it, what do I really love? Writing. Writing, Photography, and making videos. And I love watching vlogs on YouTube, specifically vlogbrothers and Wheezy Waiter. I don't necessarily feel like I live an interesting enough life to vlog about, but the time factor comes into play again.

I refuse to be relegated to mediocrity. If there's one thing I learned from the Vlogbrothers, it is not to forget to be awesome. And that's what I want to do with my life. Something awesome. Maybe only awesome for few, maybe awesome for many, but something awesome nonetheless.

And now is the part where I open it up to you, the readers, taking suggestions on how to best find my true passion.

Evolution of Family - Thoughts From Arab, AL

Over the last 6 years, one thing I have learned is that blood isn't the only thing that makes you family. I have been fortunate to have more than tripled the size of my family over that time under that logic. Merriam-Webster even has varying definitions of family, ranging from the usual sharing of a common ancestor to sharing common convictions or affiliations.

The point is, you don't have to be related to someone to call them your family. Whoever you associate with, who when they're in pain or suffering you share in their pain and suffering, and when they are joyful you share in their joy, that is your family. Sometimes non-blood relations are closer than blood relations. Sad to say, but this can be true.

Everyone needs family of any kind; going through this death sentence called life alone is a special kind of torture one must never subject themselves to. If we aren't going to make it out of this adventure alive, we might as well enjoy the ride in he company of others.

Yesterday marked the second year since my Grandma left to go dance with Jesus. I was blessed to have her in my life for 30 years, even if at times I didn't make the most of those 30 years. I think we are still in that "lost" phase, where the loved one is taken and we're still trying to figure out how we're going to move on with our lives. The phase where nothing seems right and the realization that nothing will be the same again is still prevalent.

The thing about family is it's always evolving. Marriages, births, deaths, meeting new people...like the weather in Wisconsin, it is constantly changing. And we are all family with God as our Father.

Just up the road from where we are staying in Alabama there is a pond in a city park. I'm not sure if it's teeming with fish or not, but suppose it is. They will forever be relegated to that pond, that will be all they know of existence. They won't know that there is so much more water to explore. And anthropomorphically speaking they'd probably be fine with that. Some people are like that too. They stay within the confines of their city or state, and they are perfectly fine with that. I'm very thankful I was blessed with the ability to travel and venture outside my city walls (if you knew my city you'd know the Department of Transportation built a bypass that is effectively a modern day "Great Wall" of sorts) and see more of the beautiful world God created. I was afforded the opportunity to immerse myself in Southern culture, even developed my own accent that'll likely stick with me for about a week. It was the first time in 6 years I have been able to travel out of state; incidentally enough to the same place, this time with a wife and kids.

Side note: a twelve hour road trip with an almost 3 year old is basically signing away a percentage of your sanity.

In Which I Take Stock of my Monkeys

Something happened almost two weeks ago. Due to the potential audience of my blog posts, suffice it to say that this event caused me to take a step back and take stock in my current "situation" and "position", as the words "undisclosed" and "no transfers" got tossed around. Bob Cratchit was threatened with this after he vocally subscribed with Scrooge's nephew Fred regarding Christmas. I think that's eloquent enough...

I must admit, I've sort of grown comfortable in my current position. I finally have a supervisor who I like and appreciates me for my work, I've been given the permission to work from home and love every minute of it, but the volatility of the industry has me wondering. For one thing, it has me wondering "What next?" Not as someone going through constant trials and then having another trial come upon them and shaking their fists heavenward and shouting "what next", but as in career-wise, what is the next step?

Currently I am pursuing and am halfway to attaining, an AA in General Studies with a Concentration in Business. After that I will be following that up with a BA in I-Don't-Know-Yet. But I haven't looked at the market in a while, so to speak. However, that would mean giving up the chance to get these degrees - at least, the chance to get them at no cost to me.

Taking stock of the situation, taking stock of my position, taking stock of my...location. What if some awesome job opportunity presented itself in, say, Oregon? Well for one, I would never know because I haven't been out there looking, but I hear that Oregon is one of the 10 states where the job market is exploding. Am I really so tied to Wisconsin? Who knows...that BA is a ways off yet, thinking 2-4 years away. And we just went through the whole moving fiasco...only to find ourselves right back in the city we were intending to leave a year ago...

It once again makes me go back and "dust off history" (consider further my last post, In Which History Gets Dusted Off). That post I focused on Paulina, who traversed the Eastern United States in an effort to find her sister, Anna. Whereupon finding her, stayed with her and lived with her and her husband and family until meeting my great great grandpa, Frank. Now I think of Frank's side of the story. While I don't know the schematics of it all, Frank came here to avoid being forced back into the Austrian Army due to lack of Draft Card, which I'm sure being forced back into the Army was the least of the potential punishment...but that's neither here nor there. The fact is, sometime around 1901 he came here. Landed I'm sure in New York City where Paulina found herself just a year previous, and as a hard-working, (probably) liberal-minded (The Google tells me through Wikipedia that typically, Austrian immigrants as well as Polish were of the liberal persuasion) 30-something single Catholic, I can only assume traversed the country as well just trying to attain a job to sustain himself.

History has shown me that my individual family roots had come to this country (excluding perhaps the English Colonial ancestors) due to either religious persecution or a better opportunity to escape the constant war and strife of the European scene at the time...almost reminiscent to today's America, but that's another blog post. I seem to be developing a theme of "Piecing Together History", as it were.

Anyhoobastank (credit to Wheezy Waiter for introducing that word into my life, seriously check out his channel it's amazeballs) it makes me wonder, not to sound like Adam Levine, what it was that brought Frank ultimately to Iron Mountain, Michigan. And even more than that, what took him in such a short time from Iron Mountain all the way to Milwaukee, Wisconsin? Nowadays that's about like an 8 hour trip, I can imagine it taking probably thrice as long in the early 1900s. Was it the influx of German and German-esque immigrants to the Milwaukee area? Although Chicago would have sufficed as well...what was it that took them precisely to Milwaukee?

So now, four generations later, I find myself in similar shoes, so to speak. No, I'm not contemplating fleeing the US Army (they wouldn't take me even if I wanted them to), but I find myself a hardworking, liberal (sorta)-minded 30-something Catholic wannabe (albeit married with children), asking myself is my current city the best location and is my current position the best position for me to have at this very moment in time?

The answer remains to be seen. As the scientists put it, "Further research is needed." The job market in Wisconsin is stagnant at best. Like Frank, however, I have family here, although his was admittedly possibly smaller than mine is at present, he had family that he left in Michigan to remove down to Milwaukee. It was for a job that my father removed us from Milwaukee to my current city. Is the perfect well-paying job just waiting for me in some place like Bend, Oregon (had to say that just for the name), and I'm too focused on what I'm doing now to catch it? Could it be that there's life outside of Wisconsin? Those last two statements are facetious but you get my drift.

As to the monkeys referenced in the title, it is too soon to discuss one of them; suffice it to say I took one important step to remove it from my back. Tomorrow the recipients should receive their correspondence and responses may or may not come. But the ball is officially out of my court, not that it was even ever in my court to begin with...but were it kicked over there, I've returned it back to the opposing side. The Collective Soul album title "Hints, Allegations and Things Left Unsaid" comes to mind. I took care of those, and await the results. Albeit not one of my monkeys, I've also begun writing letters to my grandfather, because it dawned on me that I cannot get down to where he lives (a little over an hour away) as frequently as I'd like to, and even when I do, I can't fill him in on everything going on in our lives, because so many other people are doing so. As he is not online, I've done the next best thing (and some would argue, including myself, an even better thing): written correspondence. Summation - there is something to be said about a hand-written letter.

The other monkeys are my vehicles. Let me preface by saying being in an upside down car loan sucks. However, being that the Teacher has allowed us to climb further out of a debt hole by utilizing it, I can only see it as being a friendly if not annoying monkey on my back, not one that is doing me harm. And while climbing out of a debt hole using more debt doesn't seem to make logical sense, it's more of a consolidation thing than it is a debt thing. That being said, it still sucks. Especially when the vehicles now need more work in them than they are worth. It will take some thrusting to get these monkeys off our backs,

Time - on its resume, it would have to include professional healer of wounds, single entity in which futures and fortunes are told, and flight extraordinaire (at someone else's fun expense).

In Which History Gets Dusted Off

Every once in a while, usually once or twice a year, the Genealogy Bug strikes me. Part and Parcel with my myriad of psychological issues is that I will obsess over something for a few hours, days, sometimes up to a couple weeks, before moving onto the next obsession. It's fun, you should be jealous. If I have to have OCD, I'm glad to have it paired up with ADD so I can obsess about a new thing each day...or week, as it were.

Anyhoobastank...so in retrospect, I feel like I have discussed this before, I'm not sure when. A quick search of my blog tells me it was the entry Without Shoes and Without Regard, in which I discussed grieving and the loss of my Grandma. You can read that entry here. That's right, I get real time up in this.

I've learned a lot from my family's history, if even some of that was contrived by my own at times hyperbolic fashion. (I may or may not have just clarified for myself today what the word hyperbole means and wanted to use it in a sentence)

Starting with my Great-Great Grandmother, the Matriarch of the Family, as it were. The stories throughout the family that I've heard, I mean, I can't decide which one I like better between my Great-Great Grandparents, who were the originators of my family in America, more specifically, Upper Michigan at first (before settling in Milwaukee, my hometown). Here is what is known as fact, with only little assumptions made (the hyperbole comes in later): Frank was in the Austrian Army in say the 1880s-1890s. The story goes, you had to have your draft card renewed, or certified, or updated every year. He lived in a small town in far southern Austria...basically a Sound of Music hike across the Alps from Slovenia...but at that time was probably part of the Tyrannosaurus Austria-Hungary Empire Rex...but I digress...and the bigger city of the area was likely Klagenfurt, or Villach, one of the two. Anyhoobastank, Frank's employer said that he would take his draft card to get certified and then bring it back to him. En route either there or back, Frank's employer lost his draft card. If you were caught in Austria at that time without your draft card, so I understand it, you were thrown back into the Austrian Army. Which apparently was the last thing Frank wanted, because he hopped a boat for America. I do not know where he landed, or even what he did from the time he made landfall, if you will, in 1901 to when he married Pauline (more on her in a moment), in 1903 in Iron Mountain, Michigan.

Pauline, on the other hand, was presumably 17 when she "made landfall" in New York City in 1900. According to my grandfather, there was a rumor (or otherwise unconfirmed story that perhaps itself might have been hyperbolic) that Pauline's father....well, wait. Let me back up a second and say what I know. Pauline's father was a traveling salesman, and he had another daughter two years Pauline's senior, who was already in America. Whether or not they knew where, I do not know. I assume based on what I'm about to say, that they did know that Anna was in Iron Mountain, Michigan. Here's the possible hyperbole: while it is true that John, the father, was a traveling salesman, what I am assuming here is his wife, Pauline's mother, died in childbirth. What I know is that she died and John was to raise Pauline as a single father in 1880s Austria-Hungary, as a traveling salesman. The rumor was he was going to drown her in the river. Nobody knows if that is true, but regardless, at the tender age of 17 she boarded a boat in Le Havre, France, headed for New York City, where she arrived on the scene in March of 1900. Census records taken in June of 1900 do not place her anywhere, and I do not know of her whereabouts at that time but picture if you will: you are 17, in a strange land, not knowing the language but knowing that somewhere in this expansive country (wherever Iron Mountain, Michigan is), waits your sister. The only one who knows you. Your mission is to find your sister, and given the sad shape of roads in the early 1900s, I can definitely see how it would take multiple months to traverse the Eastern half of this country to find your sister, deep in the coal or iron ore mines of the Northwoods of Michigan.

I think you can see where I embellish the story just a tad...but still totally plausible.

Fast forward 40 years. My grandparents are born, all growing up in the time of the Great Depression. One grandparent is living in a multi-family home, where many of the apartments are inhabited by members of her family, a large...and I mean Polish Catholic Large...family on the East Side of Milwaukee. One grandparent was born into a family who, at the time of the 1940 Census, was at least 1 year out of a job and was working for the WPA. There's where I'm concentrating now. My Great Grandma had to make do with a little to serve her family...and she taught my Grandma a lot, so I've come to understand, when she married my Grandpa. I even remember toys she'd make for me, 40 years after the Depression, made out of old wooden thread spools strung together, and rattles out of two detergent caps twisted together. She was a very resourceful lady.

There is a theory that states that some memories can be transmitted through DNA. I would subscribe to this theory, as especially from the period of time of 2013 to early 2015, I had to do just that...or at least a modern version of just that. One pot meals were basically a staple. Buttered noodles were a commonplace dinner. But we never went hungry, and we were never without the necessities. We just made do with what we had.

On the other side of the spectrum, I had a grandparent who lived with her parents and brother, who lived with the grandparents on her mom's side - something that hits home.

As I've learned in school doing some economics projects, is that the economy is cyclical. Maybe that gives credence to the "history repeats itself" mantra. It may not have obviously hit in my parents' generation, and maybe not in my generation, but for my kids' generation we have the Great Recession of 2008, and while it was in no way as bad as the Great Depression was, it still was a big economic downturn. But we survived. Just like our grandparents.

If I've learned anything from this economic downturn it is that frugality can save your family from the brink. You may have to make some unconventional decisions, decisions that other people will look at you like you're mad, but in the end - and this is the important part - with faith in God, you can trust that He will surely guide the way.

That's not to say I had perfect faith throughout this trial, or anything that would even resemble something saint-worthy. There were plenty of times that I wanted to (and sort of did) throw my hands up in the air (and not wave them around like I just didn't care) and ask the Teacher why this wasn't on the test, why such a lofty exam, like this seemed like final exams 2 weeks into the term. I knew (and still know) that He doesn't give us more than we can handle, but it truly seemed to be too much, and that's all I will say about that. Yet even through all that, the Teacher showed me just how much He is in control, and he took me on an amazing journey of faith in the process, something I will talk about in a future post.

The Teacher is always silent during a test...

However I feel like this may have been an open-book test, in that I had and still have, history to draw off of. The lessons of my forefathers, be it learned or transmitted somehow, find themselves in the passenger seat...wait okay that is a bad reference, because I was going to say waiting for my perusal, but it is not safe to read and drive. But I think you get the point.

The Shortness of Life - Thoughts From Park Falls, WI

In true vlogbrothers fashion, I am plugging in to write a post from Park Falls. I may end up finishing it at home, due to service on my cell not to mention battery life.

Everyone and I mean everyone needs recreation. A great theologian Taylor Marshall outlines how to go on vacation and truly re-create, or rather, BE re-created. It doesn't matter how or where you do it, I am just by nature (and perhaps transmitted memories via DNA) attracted to the Northwoods of Wisconsin. My family hails from Iron Mountain. Anyboobastank, it used to be that I was sort of biased towards Minocqua and Lac du Flambeau, as far north as Mercer. But there is something to be said about the Northwoods as a whole. Park Falls is about a half hour 45 minutes to the west of Lac du Flambeau.

In the years since I've met my wife and had begun coming to Park Falls over the Fourth of July, I've come to see that everything north of US Highway 8 in Wisconsin is considered Up North, and there's treasure to be had and recreation to be had everywhere. I used to want to own property in the Minocqua-Lac du Flambeau area but now...anywhere will do. Just property. Then a camper.  And we can drive the camper and park it on the property and camp for a weekend. Just get away.

Life is short. Too often we say "some day". And then we get older and those "Some days" turn into "I wish". I will not be a victim to that kind of guilt. Cancer has been spreading like wildfire amongst my family and friends lately, and I myself am getting some suspicious moles looked at. Can't really afford it, based on my awesome insurance "coverage" (sarcasm intended), and I still keep second guessing myself if I'm (to make a pun here) making a mountain out of a molehill...but with my luck I'll let it go and it'll be something. I'm already prepared to go in there and find out it's nothing. But what if...what if I woke up tomorrow and had cancer of the something else?

That's why while we're up here I'm doing the most I can with my kids, and myself. I just got back from kayaking across the lake in a fashion hat would make my cousin who works with a rowing team proud. I've taken numerous trips out on the kayak and paddleboat with the kids even if it's just out to the bay and back. You just never know if this will be your last time.

I got so close to a loon. Like within a two kayak distance. I probably scared the living crap out of it, as it started doing its wailing call and getting up and flapping its wings. Those of you who know me, know that I have a strong affinity for the Common Loon. Aside from being a self-professed loon (although not of the avian kind), I have the bird tattooed to my right forearm. It is my number one favorite bird, next to cardinals and red winged blackbirds.

Nelson Mandela said "There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." Next year, there might...no strike that, there will be some alterations, one way or another (I'm gonna find you I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha). No but seriously, I say that every year I come to the Northwoods.

I think the first thing to get should be a camper. Camper first, then the property. Anywhere north of highway 8 is good for me!

And wouldn't you know it, I put sunscreen on and my shoulders still got burned.