Cycling and Recycling-Thoughts For the End of the Year

So, I haven’t updated my blogs or anything in a while.  I wish I knew what stopped me until now.  I must admit I am a procrastinator by nature.  I put things off until I have to do them.  I know when I write these posts I dig in deep and ponder…and wander…and ponder some more.  I believe my thought pattern went something along the lines of ‘It’s not the right time.’  Or whatever that means. 

However, writing is different.  This year I learned just how much I love it. I’m one of those who live almost entirely within their heads.  It’s almost as though I’m a tiny person living inside this overgrown machine that has joints that are starting to creak, hair that rusts, and has lost a few pieces but otherwise still functions well enough.  When things happen to me, or more accurately, when I react to them, it always takes me an extra second to process it.  That’s because as a writer/poet/artist, what happens to me always happens twice, and occasionally, depending on the nature of the event, even three or four times.   The reason for this is because everything that happens to me also happens to the people inside me; that is, the characters in my head with which I share very cramped quarters with, whose voices will often drown out my own.  I see and feel what ‘they’ see and feel, whoever they are.

It’s been another crazy year.  I went from working three part-time jobs to one full-time, then added a second part-time back in.  At the moment I work sixty-plus hours a week.  It’s not easy but I’m used to it.  I know it’s a miracle this machine called my body hasn’t broken down more often.  I can only thank God for that and ask for His continued blessing as I try to find one job that will work better for me.  Right now, it’s not so bad. My second job is one I’m familiar with and it is a much more relaxed environment, even though it’s security.  Security is where I draw and write the most.  My first job may be retail but it’s still the nicest store I’ve ever worked in.  Earlier in the year we changed managers again and the new guy is great.  I feel sorry for him though, because he has three little boys and likes to be very active in their lives –i.e. sports.  He probably won’t last long.  It’s a thankless position.  To be a manager in that job, you practically have to live there.  Otherwise, I might have gone after it myself.  Seeing as how I really have no life anyway, I’d rather not, even if it means better pay.  I’ve been slowly but surely working through my finances.  Two great things include my being able to pay rent again.  That may sound strange but I feel quite guilty when I can’t pay rent to my dad.  One credit card is gone for good-HALLELUJAH! Now I just have to work my way through the others.  The day I have none is the day I rejoice.  My goal is to someday never have to rely on them ever again.  They are poison, pure and simple.

Next year will have me working extra hard to settle on one good job that gives me time to work on my dream job-write and draw comics.  This year I had an epiphany.  It wasn’t a sudden verbalization or a new idea, or anything like that.  I just got mad…sort of.  It wasn’t the sort of anger where I berate myself for my own shortcomings.  I used to do that a lot and it never did me any good.  No, I just got tired of waiting and decided to just go and do my absolute best work, my best effort and see what happens.  Well!  It turns out that when I give myself a bit more patience, I will crank out something pretty decent, as my Miss Impossible piece showed me.  I also banged out two short stories in less than two weeks.  Fan fiction, but I loved it.  In fact, I loved it so much I lost sleep over finishing them!  My writing forced me to admit I have a very dark side.  I like horror, suspense and creepy stuff, but rarely verbalize it. I don’t read a lot of horror, although I have read my share of Stephen King and Laurell K. Hamilton.  As a Christian, it’s tough to admit that you enjoy that stuff, but sometimes you have to show the power of evil, if only to show how powerful good is when it is victorious.  I like reading about the suffering of the protagonists and how even after the world gets thrown at them, somehow they find the strength to win.  Both my art and writing are still not where I want them to be skill-wise, but I’m much better than I originally gave myself credit for.  I’m going to use the resources I have and if all goes well, A Stray will see the light of day next year.  I think Miss Heather Wittenborn has waited for me long enough.

I will also see if I can’t do something with my poetry.  I might have enough for a book.  Poetry does not come easy for me.  I may only do a tiny handful of pieces in a year, although with my new attitude on my art and writing, maybe it will come to me faster.  I guess I’ll have to find out.

I’m also returning to acting.  The more I see shows and movies, the more I think to myself, “That looks like so much fun!”  Hard work, of course, but fun, and I will work tooth and nail to reprise my role as Sister Hubert in Nunsense, come March 2014.  I’ve been in and out of theater since I was six years old, and ever since I stopped around 2011, I have missed it terribly.  I’m a natural-born storyteller, and acting is just an extension of that.

In other news, my niece turned five and is quite wise beyond her years.  I can’t believe she will be in kindergarten soon.  Wasn’t she just a widdle peanut yesterday?  What happened??  The other day she found out she’s going to be a big sister and is super excited.  She’s already quite a leader when it comes to others, and she’s a natural performer, too.  We’ll see how she takes it when the ‘spotlight’ isn’t going to be on her as much with a new baby in the house.  He or she will be due next July, which is funny because both of my parents have their birthdays at that time. 

More changes on the wind include my grandparents.  One is in her 90’s and it’s quickly becoming apparent that she will no longer be able to live independently.  I’m grateful that she’s held it together for as long as she has.  Two of her sisters have Alzheimer’s, and it is so hard on everyone.  She doesn’t have it but it’s clear her mind isn’t where it once was.   As for my other grandparents, they were planning on coming down this Christmas as usual (they live farther up north) but my other grandma fell again and twisted her ankle, so they are staying home.  The thing is, ‘home’ is what caused her to fall.  They have a lot of steps, and it’s clear that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to move about.

On a last, sadder note, my dear friend in Denmark lost her father right before Christmas.  Everything in me wants to fly there just so I can give her a hug in person.  And so on it goes-life and aging and death.  I’ve lost family members this year, too, and will soon greet an addition.  Traditions change, although the spirit of them remains.  Just remember to hold your loved ones a little tighter this holiday, because you really never know when the day will come when you want to but can’t.

To all of my friends and family, near and far, both here and across the pond, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year.  I may neither see you nor speak to you as often as I’d like, but please know I think about you constantly.  I love you all.

Jax

The Hole of Night

Inspired by Alan Wake and Haunted by Poe

The Hole of Night

Dancing in autumn leaves of gold

Burnt sienna, scarlet, umber

Souls awaken, dark and cold

From their fitful, restless slumber.

Taking shape and stalking me

Seducing with their scorching fears

Darkness came and carried me

I drown in all her reddened tears.

Lost within this braided wood

I trace my steps on the narrow path

It watches; I and my riding hood

I race to evade its shadowed wrath.

And all shadows leave a stain

My memories have left their mark

Scarring deep within my veins

Carving into deadened bark.

The crows encircle where I lay

The earth is cold, yet I feel numb

They sing their songs in shades of gray

Rusty groans of what’s to come.

Sacred words on pages found

A lamp to guide me on my way

Shades will rise up from the ground

To try and steal my soul away.

She pines for me, her oozing sap

A sticky wine upon my lips

Just a taste will spring the trap

And evil comes with every sip.

This forest gives her poisoned fruit

A tempting taste so bittersweet

I strike this bounty at the root

And leave no tricks with which to treat.

Though I, hollow-eyed and haunted

Grow dizzy in my circled prayers

I cry out, my dreams, undaunted

Every hope, a signal flare.

And those hopes, those echoes churn

The voices that once wished me well

They circle back and thus, return

To weave around a sacred spell.

And so I rise, and thus advance

And if it takes the whole of night

I dare to finish this tribal dance

Until I see dawn’s waking light.

Hit the Ground Running...Just Don't Trip!

Or if you do, learn to roll with the momentum, anyway.

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve updated.  I’ve gone through a lot of changes that came all at once.  Before Christmas, I’d finally been assigned to a new guard position, full-time, all nights.  Working nights was something I’d done on and off for years, so it wasn’t something I was worried about.  I was always able to fill up the empty hours with my drawings, poems, musings and movies.   I’d also read and watch movies, sometimes catching up on series I’d missed over the years.  I was happy about that.  I decided to drop the Kraft job, since it was early (for me) to get up, and since it had gone from 15 hours a week to only 8, I saw no need to waste gas.  Besides, I’m a new-ish vegetarian, and I wanted to stay away from processed foods as much as possible.  (Although I’m still working on that, sadly enough.)

I thought I’d found a place where I could sort of hole up and recuperate.  I’d planned on using the place to my advantage as much as I could without compromising my actual job.  I was doing just that, even incorporating exercising there.  I’d bring both my hand weights and Bob Harper over.  (I don’t know that he would cotton to me working out in a factory, though…)I’ll get into my health lifestyle change another time.

Anyway, I was writing and drawing a ton more than I ever had been, although I was still easing my way back into drawing for a correspondence course I’d started the year before but had to drop due to sheer intimidation and busy-ness.  Some of you may know that there are colleges out there that actually teach comic book and graphic novel art courses.  Cartooning and comic books have fascinated me for as long I can remember.  Actually, it was animation that first caught my eye.  I remember seeing it explained using an old-fashioned device, and that just opened my eyes to a new world.  After I learned the work involved, I decided drawing comic books was better than drawing cel animation by hand, although every so often I wondered what would have happened had I gone that route.  Oh well.

So it was with great surprise that in spite of all of this, I found myself to be quite unhappy.  I was restless, irritable, bored, frustrated and just plain miserable.  In the empty factory I observed myself slowly going mad, cursing loudly just to vent.  I don’t normally curse at all, mind you, and I’m ashamed that I did, but it was either that or bash my head against a wall.  I couldn’t figure it out.  I mean, was this the perfect job?  Heck, no.  But I’d done this sort of thing for years…why in the world was it bothering me so much now?  Just last summer I was able to sit in a car for 12 hours in the dead of night in the middle of nowhere.  No problem…well, except for lack of a bathroom.  Fortunately, there was a gas station nearby.

Yet, there it was.  I couldn’t stand it.  The isolation never bothered me much before, but it sure was now.  What to do?  I come from a background of “Suck it up and deal with it.”  Most of the time, that’s exactly what we should and must do, but here I was, so very troubled.  And GUILT!  Oh, did I ever feel it!  Here I had prayed and prayed for a full-time job, and had thought I had been given that very thing!  Was I just being a brat and throwing a tantrum?  How dare I squander what I was given!

Or so I thought.  I cannot tell you how glad I am to be so very wrong.

So it was in the middle of my misery, that I began praying about my job at Family Christian Store.  Because I was working nights, my availability had all but vanished.  I hadn’t quit because I genuinely liked it there, but I was starting to have serious doubts.  I wasn’t earning much, far less than at Kraft, so should I drop that, too?  That’s what I wanted to know.

Less than two weeks later, I had my answer.  My manager, an interesting go-getter dude, asked me whether or not I wanted to take the place of our SSA, who had just quit.  I said yes before I realized what I was getting myself into.  After I thought about it, I went for it anyway.

For some reason, working at FCS was a really good fit for me.  I’d gotten the job after waking to “Born Again” by Newsboys.  For some reason I just had to have that album.  I hadn’t visited the store in years.  I recognized it as one of those nudges I get every so often.  I didn’t question it, or even think about it much.  I just went.  While I was there at the store, I noticed that they were hiring, so I asked for an application.  Less than two months later, I was a keyholder, meaning I was reliable enough to open or close the store.  The previous manager, a wonderful lady named Julie, seemed to have faith I would succeed.

An SSA or SFL, is sort of, but not quite, an Assistant Manager.  It stands for Senior Sales Associate, or Sales Floor Lead.  It means I’ll be in charge of the associates under me, being a liaison that they can rely on to communicate to the manager and the manager can communicate through me.  Since I’ve always been a teacher and counselor sort, that’s something I know I can do well: listen, convey, and respond.  I’ll also have to be responsible for making sure I lead by example as far as sales metrics are concerned.

Sales metrics, for those who don’t know, are how well we sell in the store.  There are certain things we have to focus on, like the free membership, the current sale going on at the moment (Bibles!) and the impulse stuff we have at the counter.  After all, we are a retail business, and the goal is to sell.  The difference is what we sell and that the proceeds now go to charity.

You might wonder what we have besides Bibles, and how do we, of all different faiths, get along?  As far as merchandise, the store (which is a national chain) used to be mostly a bookstore with music.  It eventually evolved into what it is now, a store with books, music, gifts, church supplies, apparel, and now even its own tablet (Kobo Arc! Reputed to be even better than the iPad!) What other books do we have?  Devotionals, tons of fiction, books specifically for men, women and teens, politics, theology, commentaries, dictionaries,  biographies, and even prophecies…but I won’t go into that.  That might weird you out a bit…it does me.

As far as working with people of different faiths, it really hasn’t been an issue.  For example, I work with a 7th Day Adventist, and other than not seeing him on Saturdays, he one of the best people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.  I see a person with strong character and a great sense of humor.  We all work to achieve the same goals, and truth be told, FCS is really a safe haven for some of us.  Sure, differences exist as they always will, but I know for a fact that I will see people with a faith a bit different than my own in heaven.  What concerns Christ more than the rules that divide us is His love that unites us.  That is our focus, and using what we have to help others, be it a Bible for a new or struggling Christian, a gift for a baptism, a book for someone who is grieving and doesn’t know how to move on, or just a thoughtful card.  We work to promote God’s love and glory, not our own petty differences.  Is it perfect?  Heck, no.  But that doesn’t stop us from trying.

In any case, it’s still a retail store with the usual retail issues like being shorthanded, having too much merchandise piled up in the back, and the occasional strange customer.  For the most part, it’s very busy but mostly pleasant.  The holidays are chaotic, but it’s nowhere near as bad as other retail stores I’ve worked at.  Most people, both guests and workers strive to be more patient, tolerant, and kind.  After all, that’s the right way to be.

This is the world I’ve chosen for now, and at least for now, I’m happy. :)

And Now...For Other Stuff.
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In other news, I have to say it’s mighty weird for me to look at a photo of a woman I’ve never met, and be struck by how much I look like her.  Say what?  Let me explain:  my mother’s adopted.  She was born in the Racine area.  We found her birth family, both sides, 4 years ago.  While we were unable to meet either of her birth parents, the extended family has been nothing short of fantastic.  Just a short while ago, I was asked to sing for two funerals of two relatives who passed away a week apart.  One was my Great-Aunt Ruth, plagued by Alzheimer’s and the other was my Great –Uncle Karl by a series of strokes, so really, it was a blessing and it was their time to go Home.

Not long ago, I and my parents decided to pay part of the family a visit.  We visited my Great-Uncle Karl and Great-Aunt Doris.  Mom suggested I sing.  Normally I balk at being asked to sing by my parents.  Nothing against them, but I have this stupid knee-jerk reaction of feeling like a trained seal, put on display and expected to perform.  Maybe that’s just the residue of teenage rebellion, I don’t know.  In any case, I didn’t feel it this time, and I knew why.

Great Uncle-Karl, who would soon die after a series of debilitating strokes, was gruff on the surface but wore his heart on his sleeve.  At the discovery of my mom, who after the death of her birth mother had become the glue to reunite the clan in a way, Karl was prone to tears every time he saw us, her in particular.  He claimed that he had been a witness to her baptism way back in 1954 just prior to her going to the adoption center, which is now called Wisconsin Lutheran Child and Family Services.

I’d met Great-Uncle Karl previously, and although he couldn’t speak well anymore, for some reason I had an instant connection with him.  I have a soft spot for gruff guys with hearts made of marshmallows.  His German accent reminded me of my own late grandfather I’d lost when I was 9.  He and his wife Doris were really a comedy duo.  Karl was quieter but sharp.  Doris is a lovable chatterbox.  She grew up with 5 sisters…which is likely why my mom is such a one herself!  My mom and Great-Aunt Doris are those talkative sorts who will talk for an extra half hour after they decided to leave.

At one point my parents told me they heard Karl say, “Doris!  Stop talking!”

To which she replied, “I can’t!  I can’t!”

So, although I’d whispered to Karl, “I’m going to sing for you today,”  it was ages before I began because of all the chattering.  My father and Karl looked at each other and just threw up their hands in mock defeat.  There was nothing else we could do but wait.  Eventually, I did sing, as best I could on short notice, so I mostly sang hymns and funny songs I’d memorized long ago.  I had no idea it would be the last time I’d see my Great-Uncle alive.  However, I knew, as everyone did, that he didn’t have much time left.  So I did ask God to make sure I did well.  I also asked Him to do the same at Karl’s funeral, where I actually sang in German as well as English.

Karl’s funeral included full military honors, for he had served in Korea.  His was a full life well-lived, and I am glad I got to meet him, however brief.  I didn’t know Great-Aunt Ruth well, but as I said, the family has been wonderful and very generous to us.  I hope the next time we get to meet will be for much happier reasons…because we just never know when it could be our time to go Home.