Monday, July 30, 2007

UUUUHHHHHHH...

This post is dedicated to my dear friends Tim and Ambra who have so diligently waited for a place holder in my most random memory abyss. I thought long and hard about what I should post and what would be appropriate for a "wide" audience...I wanted to post part of the Hogan story, chapters 1-6 would have been a hoot. But so not appropriate! So I decided, there is nothing suited for a "wide" audience...

If you do not relate to this story, then stop right now...you won't get it and it won't be funny. If you know anything about Hogan or Sigma Delta Chi, then keep reading...you will laugh your ass off (Caution: do not critique the grammar, spelling, sentence structure, punctuation, or writing style in any way...the random thinking IS the story).

what about a grudge match with karla and mandy? can i get a shut up and drive and a little pasty arm outstretched for an advil? "so what do you know tim?" "well I know about reba" what about a hugo boss suit at a high school reunion (OH MY GOD TIM IS SMOKING)...what about benson? what about that gravy? can i get some constant craving, what about a hair brush? "I am doing good, I have 75 records" can i get some tuna helper at barbie's disco palace? what about frosty and clancy...what about some CDV's for cigarette money..."ya'll im a lesbian now""well im not"...should we make a reservation for dinner at the Holiday Inn? can I get a bean burrito spilled on my floor? ooohhh...what about STARRRRRR? what about monica lewinsky...those beads are dirty. What about dominique and darcy...oohh...what about mary? do you think she has ever done some hair flippin? what about a christmas party with Hurley in a formal gown? can i get a pacer record? what about LD? what about TT and some tutoring up at the mabel bassett?

What about some employment screening...and Ed's kid crying at the sound of Shawn Colvin..."no tango coffee"..."there's no paul on the walton's"...what about ruh girl? do you think THO would be proud...do you think stie can thieve some of amy's food? how much do we miss the riverbend pool? candice was the VERY BEST mont waitress...still have scars from mont bugs? "you say, i only hear want i want to, i don't listen hard, i dont pay attention to the distance that your running to anyone anywhere"..."are you the same girl that i went through hell for, do you remember my name?" what about junior mints and a broken shot glass at jimmy buffet...half price apps with an 89er's ticket stub only at La Roca..."it's marianne!" "hakuna matata" what about the omnipresent turbo-charged wheelchair and the omnipresent kappa alum? what about raspberry beer at interurban?...what about the thunderchicken? what about our server dave and curt hill? and most importantly, what about a turpin turtle?

Miss you guys!

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Alihilani? What The Hell Does That Mean?

For quite some time, I have had a dear affection for the word and more than a few inquisitive friends asking the above. Not only does it bring back memories of a simpler time (WARNING: tsunami of nostalgia approaching) and youthful innocence, but also that of one of my life's passions, sailing. Alihilani is Hawaiian for "the heavenly horizon". It was also the name of the 34' C&C sailboat aboard which I learned to sail when I was 16.

Two years later, I returned to the Alihilani for a bareboat charter with a herd of high school friends to celebrate the end of one era and the beginning of another. It was a great weekend full of reminiscing and trying diligently to score booze with a single fake ID (which was successful!). My friends were all headed to the ends of the earth (well, it was to me) to attend college: Texas A&M, OSU, Arkansas, me to OU, and my buddies Matt, Paul and Ryan were still stuck with another year of high school. It was far for us, being as it was no longer in our little town called Harrah. I would miss them. It's funny how we watch and read stories of how life goes on and pass them off as Hollywood moments, forgetting how true that statement rings in our own lives.

So as I embarked on a new journey to college, I kept the Alihilani as my mascot and personal historian. Even as I met new friends, found a second family with my fraternity brothers, and met a future wife, I drifted further and further away from Harrah. I still remain close to a couple of the old group and do manage to keep up with the rest through the grapevine and the occasional Christmas card.

The Alihilani is my holy grail of sacred memories and stands for more than just a boat or a weekend adventure. Alihilani will forever be part of me. It will forever keep my weekend trip, my multitude of college memories, and even those from my distant childhood: Visions of the brown treehouse, grandpa Sam's camper, my two best childhood friends, Caleb and David, my yellow Mongoose, the creek that ate my GI Joe hover craft, the brown Bronco, my Atari, the grave of my English Sheepdog, the coaster "bus", Johnson's Sports, the abandoned 1910 railroad tunnel, the blue bunk beds, the old MG, Foss Lake, the camp out to see Halley's comet, bus 15, Shelly Lockhart...all there for me to see.

But just as it was for Gordie Lachance, "...I will never again have friends like the one's I had when I was twelve." (Stephen King, from the Novella The Body and the Rob Reiner film Stand By Me). I learned many life lessons the day I read that book. Those lessons and more importantly the words still reside in me, thus forming the keel of my Alihilani. So now you know the name of my secret treasure box and that to the outside world she is just a sailboat. But her name says it all: though the heavenly horizon beyond is the goal, it is the journey that gets us there and the journey we shall never forget.

Footnote: I have since tried to charter her again, but the marina no longer charters from their private fleet and she was bought and relocated to an unknown location. She too is now only a memory on the heavenly horizon.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

The Fog: Revisited

I know it was a boring post, but to me it was a journal entry reaching into what has been my life with fogged over glasses. I like to think I am the only one who reads my posts; therefore, I tend to spill just slightly more than is palatable. Well, just in case I am the only who reads, I offer this postlude to myself.

I finally did it. The fog, as thick as it gets, was beginning to become unbearable. I got myself into the doctor to find solace. After a barrage of tests, and clinicians telling me I had to find peace with my "condition", I finally sought the advice of a trained professional. His evaluation, based on the scores of tests and questions from my childhood and adolescence, allowed me to see the light and finally understand why. It was clear to my doc that I was a classic case of ADD sans the hyperactivity (hmm maybe that's why I'm not skinny and pretty...). Against my stubborn personality and my decades of denial, I decided to try his prescribed crutch, medication.

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears...for a new day has begun. It took six weeks of sifting through select serotonin reuptake inhibitors to discover my problem was not the over-diagnosed, dare I say, depression. I found that I am a member of a growing number of adults living unknowingly with the gift that is Attention Deficit Disorder (unknowingly because most adults were never diagnosed as children). I say gift because it is just that. Disorder is a fallacy. I finally know for medical certainty that I belong to a group of people propelled by creative, intelligent, insightful thought processes. We just simply cannot control those machines humming and spinning ferociously in the brain. What began in childhood, never went away and has been gnawing on me for decades. I will spare you the genetics and physiology of the brain (for it is not completely yet understood) and offer you this: ADD is no longer a curse, but a blessing in disguise. Sure, it makes life as a "normal" person slightly more difficult to maintain, but the benefits I have found are far more inspirational.

I am still the daydreamer who cannot keep appointments, accumulates endless piles of paperwork, strays from the average conversation, and forgets to pay the light bill; but, am now the one attempting to harness my inherent gift for a lifetime of everyday happiness. With the help of my better half, we will form a new way of life around the mold shaped by the fog. Oh I said it...happiness. You are thinking to yourself right now...damn is he drunk? Nope. My mental clarity is beginning to shine. Think of it this way, the brain runs nonstop 24/7 for everyone and the same is true for "us". But "we" have a brain that runs on jet propulsion, constantly moving, dodging, crafting, conspiring, spinning, creating, working at light speed. The medication gives the little hamster on the wheel in my head something to chew on, whilst I go about the process of reclaiming my life.

Although it is only a small part of the reclamation process, the medication offers me the ability to strategize and ultimately focus. Focus is the key. For the first time since I was a young child, do I finally realize my full potential as a productive human. If only they could do something medically about the procrastination...but I can live with forcing myself to start a task rather than trying to blindly run the gambit from start to finish with little conscience effort.

I thought long and hard about actually putting this post on electronic paper, and I neglected to share with Cindy that I was going to go public. But in the end, my decision was not one based on overcoming a stigma, but rather recapturing and taming what is rightfully mine to hold. I could care less what any one else thinks at this point (note: impulsivity is an ADD benchmark, which I am sure does not affect me!). I am free to surf the inner workings of my mind now that I have found the means to focus on them. I will publicly state however that, although I make no promises, I will try to work on my piles at home G!

I will spare you the medical mumbo-jumbo and the psychopharmacology, but offer this: look out world...for I have seen the sky through the fog for the first time in many a moon, and it is bright, airy, and waiting for me to seize it again (or for the first time)! Here's wishing you a lifetime of unconstrained productivity!

Monday, July 9, 2007

Life Lessons: Chapter 1

My two friends Greg and Jason were watching a Steelers game at Buffalo Wild Wings one Monday night last fall. The bar was packed and a young Gen Y-er was sitting with a girlfriend at the bar. Her top was cropped and she was wearing hip huggers that fell ever so slightly below her exposed T-back. Just a teeny bit of crack was visible as she sat imbibing and engrossed in conversation. Unfortunately I was not there to witness, but through Jason I have heard the story many times! Greg gets up to walk to the bathroom, stumbles past the girl, glances as he passes, steps back to glance again, then as if the two had a history of playful chemistry…he slips his right index finger into the visible crack. Bloop…just like that! She was obviously stunned and he continued on to the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

Life Lesson #648: Thou shalt not poke, prod, or otherwise violate the T-back sanctum of a strange coed in a bar whilst thy judgment is impaired.

Many a moon ago, in my short tenure with Hogan Information, I had a colleague named Jessica. She was on a business trip to Orlando staying at a high-rise Embassy Suites. It had been a great day, productive business, awesome hair day, stunning new clothes, the world was her oyster…she left her room to visit the front desk for directions to a dinner location. Giddy with a zest for life, she entered the elevator where she joined a visiting family on vacation sparking conversation as they rode to the lobby together. She sauntered across the large atrium lobby area past more families checking-in and happy hour patrons, saying hello and waving as they watched her make her way to the front desk. With directions in hand, she sashayed back through the expansive atrium with her good hair bouncing in rhythm with her confident stride. She boarded the elevator once again to return to her room and shared the car with a young visitor from the UK. Half way to her floor, he leaned over and in proper and eloquent British form he shyly whispered, “Pardon miss, you seem to have your skirt tucked into your knickers”.

Life Lesson #724: Always check thy clothing for unnecessary tuckedness and/or stray toilet paper.

Life Lesson #811: Always share with someone their unnecessary tuckedness and/or stray toilet paper to aid them in avoiding compounded embarrassment.

Summer Arrives- Hide Your Eyes

It has been a LONG time since Cindy and I have enjoyed the summer the way it is intended! Babies, work, moving, changing, always on the go, lack of beach body...all inhibiting factors. So this summer I am making it a priority to move outside. Thus the reason for my 6 wk blog hiatus, I had to plan. Actually that is not entirely accurate, I had to procrastinate the planning and slowly motivate myself to initiate the plan. Whatever the case, those of you who know me will appreciate my ability to dive right into the plan...literally.

To begin, I have been spending an obscene amount of time in Phoenix at my project traveling back and forth on a weekly basis. A few weeks ago I decided to take some time to myself and begin the "plan". Now, keep in mind my body has seen the sun only once every summer for the past 6 or 7 years and that was only on the 4th of July. Imagine the pasty, farmer tanned, redneck and alabaster back coupled with my mounting heft...yeah I know...EWW.

I took the plunge a few weeks ago and decided I did not care what I looked like, I was going to get some sun and boost my body's supply of Vitamin E (sounds better than promoting skin cancer). So fueled by a few cold suds delivered by the little cabana girl at the Camelback Inn, I removed my shirt and assumed the position! I noticed at this point that the entire pool deck glanced, winced, and shielded the glare from my chest. Cabana girl returned, offered something stronger, I accepted, and felt much better with the addition of liquid courage in the form of rum. It was 112 degrees...and it was 6pm. I am told it is a "dry" heat and therefore doesn't really feel hot. Let me tell you friends, it doesn't matter if its dry, moist, or otherwise...when it is 112, it is HOT.

Instantly I begin to sweat, meaning I could have supported a rice paddy. I tough it out with the same perseverance of holding back the first break-the-seal pee. It has only been 20 minutes and I am already fried. Finally I just cannot stand it...I MUST GET IN THE WATER...AAHHHHH! Life is grand again. 112 is not bad when accompanied by a crystal clean cool pool. Cabana girl returns and I inform her of my change of venue...keep em coming girlfriend! She did. I finally threw in the towel when my face, shoulders, chest and back were sufficiently crisp.

And so summer has arrived...hide your eyes people, for inhibition is no longer in my vocabulary!