Narcissistic Graffiti

Sabbatical Day 20: Sauquoit Day 5

Today was probably the most even-keeled relaxing day this month. I went with my parents to the Hamilton College Root Glen (where I saw some beautiful trees and flowers) and visited my grandparents. After a nice supper at home with my parents, I listened to music and caught up in my personal journal a bit.

This morning, I read an article in the Utica Observer-Dispatch that crystalizes an insight I acquired during my road trip. Kris Worrell, Editor of the Utica Observer-Dispatch, wrote an article criticizing a photo gallery published by the Albany Time Union and USA Today about Utica. A photographer, Spencer Platt, took some great but mostly negative images about "Utica Struggles." You can see the photo gallery here.

Worrell has a problem with the unrelenting negativity of the photos, and I agree - but on a higher level.

As the country has grown more politically divided over the past ten years, I've noticed people bitching more and more about how bad things are. And yes, some things are bad. I'm not putting my head in the sand.

But during my road trip, every "bad" place had its good side, and every "good" place had its bad side. I saw delightful downtown districts in forgotten places like Rock Springs, Wyoming, yet saw a street gang kicking the shit out of somebody in the middle of the street on a "quiet" Sunday night in St. Paul - supposedly the less crime-ridden of the Twin Cities. I saw blossoming neighborhoods and budding entrepreneurism in a city as beaten down as Detroit, yet I saw homeless people sleeping outside a convenience store in a wealthy suburb of Seattle.

I have been guilty of gossip, venting, political partisanship, bleak views on the United States, and other dour sentiments. But when you really look at any idea, place, issue, etc. there are always multifaceted, rich ways to view those things. And they require slowing down, observing more, thinking harder, and coming to more complicated conclusions.

The photographer could have presented a more well-rounded picture of Utica. In our lives, we can work to defend people and present positive viewpoints when those people are gossiped about. We can analyze a situation more objectively AFTER we vent. We can work harder to understand a political opponent's motive or rationale, and respond more civilly.

And most importantly, we can view someplace like the United States, or the city we live in, or the business we work for, with not only a blend of positive and negative analysis but also a sincere attempt to help understand how those places can be better. True, sometimes you or I might not be the people to make a business, place, or country better - and we can move on if it's more healthy and connected to our passions. But so few of us, I believe, give a sincere attempt to really look at the good and bad of a situation and offer up solutions.

In seeing more of America over the past few weeks, and in tiring of my five years of jaded cynicism that has led me many times to be like Spencer Platt taking his photos (especially in my stupid political rants on Facebook), I realize at 35 that I'm now truly tired of that kind of intellectual laziness. Maybe that means I have to shut up more, not bitch about things as much, not read Google News and bitch about random stories that I don't understand, and refrain from attacking the GOP over every headline I see.

Instead, that means I need to focus on being my best self, on how I can best contribute to society, on how I can best make other people's lives better, and in pursuing interests and reading that help me understand the world in a more positive way. And the best place to start is with myself.

Like Utica, any place or situation can look bleak. But if we all had the attitude that everything is bleak, nothing would be created, produced, or evolved on this Earth. So let's shut the ***k up more and work on being more creative, productive, and delightful human beings.

Sabbatical Day 19: Sauquoit Day 4

It's 2 a.m., so this post will be short. :) This morning, I hung out with my professor and influential mentor who I spoke about meeting coincidentally in the Bank of America lobby a few days ago. We caught up on a variety of things, but he reminded me of a lesson that I recall him speaking about back in the day, but that has much more relevance now.

Yesterday, I let myself experience nostalgia. But the flipside is that, as you age, life gets better.

Yes. It does.

Now, of course if you shoot yourself in the foot, don't learn from your mistakes, or overspend / overconsume, then this lesson might not apply. But if you're reasonably responsible, then a few things happen as you get older. You get wiser. You acquire more experience. You (maybe) save up some money or assets as a buffer. You meet a wonderful network of people. You mature.

When my professor heard about the nine years of equity I'd earned in the "Phase I" of my career, he recalled times in the past when he had taught five courses per semester and found himself caught up in the grind. He took a risk, "retired," and ended up opening himself to unimagined opportunities in teaching, scholarship, and writing. In a similar sense, I spent the last nine years establishing myself in Atlanta, learning broadly, and meeting a wide variety of people. But my 2003 narrative of "get a job, just survive, and be happy for what you've got" is now (in hindsight) a dead narrative.

Intuitively, I killed that narrative, but in reconnecting with my professor I discovered that I made a move that is completely consistent with the philosophy that got me started back in 1997. I recognized an end to a phase of my life, and a dire need for a new phase. I was able to do it, so I did it.

That's great, but the most important lesson is this: THE FUTURE IS BETTER THAN THE PAST.

Yes, the hardships are different. Friends and family dying. Unexpected tragedies. Aging parents and grandparents. Cancer. Bad health.

But the freedom, maturity, lessened drama, appreciation, and thankfulness of living life every day gets better.

All of the memories that I waxed nostalgic about yesterday are EXACTLY what makes the present magnificent and the future hopeful. I've gone through high school. College. Grad school. TechLINKS. Sophicity. Nebo. That's 20 years of intense learning in a variety of circumstances, coupled with beautiful memories and dear friends.

But now, at 35, that encyclopedia of experience gives me a unique perspective on life, a set of wonderful skills and talents, and the power to now choose a better, more interesting "Phase II" of my career.

Already, I'm beginning to look forward to June, to returning to "real life," and to working again. I did not think this feeling would happen so soon, but with my professor's help - the same professor who helped send me off and running back in 1997 with his brilliant insights about life - I realize what I've done in ending "Phase I" is both logical and brave. Logical in that it was simply time to change. Brave in that so few people (unfortunately) ever take this step.

Sabbatical Day 18: Sauquoit Day 3

Today was the first day during my sabbatical where I just sat around and digested some of what's happened to me this month. I slept in, caught up in my journal a bit, and hung out with my parents, my sister, and my sister's family - including my two nephews. I drank coffee and listened to music. True relaxation.

This evening, I hung out with a high school friend of mine who I've known now for almost 20 years. We used to hang out quite a bit during my college years, and some of my best memories and 2 a.m. diner conversations during the mid- to late-1990s were with him. We had a few beers at Carmella's. For my high school and college friends, that place is a time capsule. It wasn't the classiest place. It was just one of the few places you could actually hang out in the Sauquoit/New Hartford area that actually stayed open somewhat late. We'd drink coffee and maybe have a bowl of chili if we had the money. And talk until they closed.

A time capsule. That's what much of tonight felt like. And sometimes that's good to experience, especially when you're taking some time to find your roots and re-explore your past. With such an old friend, we fell into our usual pulse of conversation and rhythm - as if the 2000s never happened. Carmella's looked pretty much the same as it did in the mid-1990s, only it felt like I was dreaming about it. It felt slightly different and mostly empty.

When I walked outside around midnight, it was cold, and I smelled the Upstate New York air that is so hard to describe but is the oxygen I grew up on. As I walked out to my friend's car in the parking lot, I looked to my right and in a flash I remembered a random memory. August 1998. Sitting out in the parking lot in a friend's junker car, having an intense conversation about an upcoming mountain climb, and listening to Led Zeppelin I. In a blink, in a gust of the wind, it could have been 1998 again. That exact moment. But it's been 14 years. That moment is gone. Dead.

And driving back "home." Up Seneca Turnpike. Oxford Road. Nothing has changed. The air smells the same. It's dark. Dead. No one around. Gas stations are even closed. Driving up Oneida Street. Now on my old school bus route, the roads I thought I'd ride on a school bus forever. But forever was only 1982 to 1995. And 1995 is now 17 years ago - the age of someone about to graduate from high school. Then pulling up Butler Road like so many friends had taken me home so many times in the 1990s.

And my friend dropping me off. As I shook his hand, for a moment it felt like we'd certainly be hanging out again next week, planning the next time out - volleyball, watching anime, playing Magic: The Gathering, or just talking late at some diner. But no. This was it, again. For a long time. As I walked back into my house, into my childhood home, into the living room where I'd come home so many times, to read late during college or to watch TV before going to bed, it's like the 21st century never happened.

But I'm just walking through ruins. Dreaming old dreams. They are good dreams, the moments that constructed my life and forged my identity. And I'm so glad I had these moments, and that its witnesses are still around to be with me and let me know, "Yes, Kevin! It all happened." But it is the past, and I must soon move on again.

Sometimes I do want to go back. I know that sounds sad and not "forward-looking." But I had a place in the world, and I had direction, in the 1990s.

Don't worry. This is just a moment. I'll move forward again, boldly and excitedly. But for this one night, let me just immerse myself back to a time when life was so different, when I was fully alive, when everything was new, and when I was young. And the future held so much promise, delight, and excitement. And through the zillions of seemingly neverending late night conversations with my Upstate New York friends, we always talked about how we could not WAIT to get started on our journeys.

Let me just remember that feeling. For a night. Please.

Sabbatical Day 17: Sauquoit Day 2

I admit, like any person, that I let petty things worry me. You'd think after traversing the country that I would not arrive in Sauquoit last night obsessed by a banking issue (that wasn't my fault) that I had to resolve. I won't even describe it here. It's too mundane. I actually lost sleep over it last night, planning on how exactly to handle it this morning.

But a part of me kept viewing the situation from a higher level. Why is this happening? What is the significance? I'm trying to be philosophical and reflective this month, but the reality of my future career, my loss of a car, and now this banking issue all seem to be like hellhounds barking at the gates.

During my road trip, I had many conversations with friends and acquaintances about mentors in my past, including one particular professor who had a gigantic impact on me while at Utica College. In 1997, when I first took his classes in American literature and avant-garde film, his selection of books and films combined with his insights about art and life ended up sparking my inner direction for the first time in my life. He did not dictate that direction for me, but he helped me see life in unique, unconventional ways. His interpretations of nature, Thoreau, Emerson, Willa Cather, Hemingway, FItzgerald, Faulkner, George Kuchar, Upstate New York, James Fenimore Cooper, Tex Cobb, and many other odd artists, topics, and works ended up revealing a path that I marched down for many years.

While I've often thought fondly of him in recent years, it's safe to say that the flame of my inner direction that he helped light has gone out. But there I was at the Bank of America branch office at about 9:30am this morning. I was there in an unlikely situation, at an unlikely time, at an unlikely place. After I completed my banking business, I got up to leave and guess who is standing in line? Him. After all of these years.

We shook hands and were glad to see each other. And we're having coffee in a few days, and I get to talk to the person who I consider my #1 mentor of all time, the one who originally sparked my inner direction, at a time when I've lost my direction more severely than at any time in my life.

A banking issue that caused me to lose sleep and "ruin" my sabbatical during the last few days ended up leading to a reconnection with the exact person I probably need to talk to about my life at this juncture.

Thank you, Universe. Every time I get cocky and think I understand you, I realize I'm not even fucking close.

Sabbatical Day 16: Sauquoit

So weird after so long to type in my childhood address into my GPS. From Detroit, I drove through Ontario in order to get to Upstate New York. Then, it was the familiar 90 East toward home.

When I took exit 32 and began to wind my way through the roads I know so well, I became emotional. It's been a long journey. I escaped Atlanta's gravity on May 3 and saw many sights across America, many cities, many middle-of-nowhere stretches, many lonely hotels. Today was an ending of sorts, but I intuitively knew it was time for an ending at about this point.

I really needed to disconnect for these first two weeks. I know I missed out on a lot of sights. I know I whizzed by a lot of the country. But what I really wanted to do was drive. For long distances. Disconnect. Leave. Restart. Reboot. And I did.

As you've read in my blog posts, I've collected a lot of insights along the way. Now, with the support of my hometown friends and family, I've got some of the best people in the world to help me sort it all out over meals, drinks, and conversation. These people are my history. The history I lost touch with in Atlanta. And it's time to reconnect with my roots.

Sabbatical Day 15: More Detroit

Today, I just let the day unfurl. In the afternoon, I went to a couple of magnificent used bookstores - The Book Beat and John K. King Used and Rare Books. At the Book Beat, I discovered that the members of Sonic Youth are friends with the owners and the band stops there whenever they're in town. At John K. King, I got lost in used bookstore heaven. It was four cavernous floors, full of every kind of book imaginable. I saw everything from a complete early 20th century edition of Anthony Trollope's works (100 books) to a manual on Army rifles from the 1970s. For the rest of the day, I just hung out with my friend's family, took a ride through some more suburbian Detroit neighborhoods, and actually saw a UFO while staring at the stars!

Strewn throughout the day were various insights and thoughts. I couldn't really tie them together into one blog post, but here they are separated out.

1. According to my friend's father, happiness is knowing your place in life, knowing your direction, and having connections to people. I feel that I was recently in the wrong place in my life and lacked direction. This sabbatical is a way to find that center and that compass again, and I feel like I'm on the right track. The insight about place and direction is important. So many people fail to delve deep inside themselves to work on uncovering their place and direction. Instead they replace that need with materialism, consumerism, politics, religion, and gossip. It's harder to face yourself, understand what makes you happy, and figure out how you can best serve the world.

(BTW - I'm not against politics and religion, but people often adopt political and religious talking points without much critical thinking. Here, I'm noting the psychological phenomeon of those people who use politics and religion to fill their life with meaning, rather than subscribing to an individual political and religious point of view that stems from one's core values and self-awareness.)

2. In strolling through the John K. King bookstore, I stumbled upon a book that George Burns published when he was 80. I read the first three or four pages. George Burns talked about how he was happier at 80 than almost any other age. And he explained how fun it was to take a woman out on a date. He said it makes you be your best - wearing your best clothes, acting and behaving your best, and being on top of your game. That really hit me. As I wandered through the rest of the bookstore, I began to think how I'd just given up on dating and relationships over the last few years - no matter how valiently people have urged me not to give up. I suppose I had become resigned to dating as futile and pointless, and myself as too unattractive and inexperienced. But George Burns spins it differently. Just use dating as practice on being your best self. No more, no less. If something more happens, great. If not, at least I'm practicing my softer skills of fun, style, charm, and kindness. In other words, I can't give up on that side of life, no matter how sad and hopeless it has been in the past.

3. My friend Julie wrote an excellent blog post about the meaning of the word "alternative." She explores how the idea of "alternative" is relative. For example, I know some people who if they listened to ANY heavy metal, it would be "alternative" - whereas I am a snob and need obscure, progressive metal to satisfy me. On the flip side, I JUST got into "Daydream Nation" by Sonic Youth a few months ago. To me, it's "alternative," but for some music fans I know, that's like saying, "I just discovered the Beatles." If it's new to me and expands my mind, it's "alternative" to what I know.

I would add that the exploration of "alternative" is both inner and outer. So far during my sabbatical, I've been focusing on outer exploration - driving and places. Now, I'm actually ready for inner exploration again - thinking, reading, more writing. I actually cut my afternoon in Detroit short just because I felt "outer-ly" saturated, and I spent the late afternoon on a laptop just writing emails and communications to friends. Tomorrow, I'm back in Upstate New York with my parents for about a week, and I'm actually looking forward to NOT exploring any places for a bit.

I am 50% of the way through my sabbatical, and it's interesting to see where my spirit has taken me. I've gotten many suggestions from friends on what I should explore or do, but my intuition took me elsewhere. Sometimes I lingered in places, sometimes I didn't. I skipped entire sections of the country. Sometimes I explored a city more, and sometimes I stayed in. This is part of connecting with my own inner rhythm and taking control of my life again.

And that's where Julie's post is so important. I'm realizing that "alternative" is truly relative. We each have our own journeys, our own odysseys. We each have things that thrill and obsess us, and things that hold little interest for us. And we have to respect those inner impulses more. I had not respected mine in quite some time, and I've pretended to like things I don't really like and hid things that I really do like. That is sad. It's time to listen to my soul better. As today proved, just following my impulses led to probably the most spontaneous enjoyable day so far on the trip - and all with just a couple of bookstores, a few good people to talk to, and my own imagination and creativity.

 

Sabbatical Day 14: Detroit

After a strange, brief stop in Chicago, I headed to Detroit for the first time to stay a few nights with a good friend's family. This will be the last city I visit before "sabbaticaling" in my hometown of Utica, New York for most of the rest of the month. But I'm glad I stopped in Detroit - for multiple reasons.

First, and most obvious, is the company and camaraderie of my friend's family. They took me on a driving tour of Detroit, and I saw nearly every shade and facet from good to bad. I saw downtown, bad neighborhoods, good neighborhoods, mansions, crazy art, emerging neighborhoods, Motown, and a ton of very old magnificant buildings ranging from churches to train stations. We ate at Slows Bar B-Q on Michigan Avenue - and, yes, it was some of the best BBQ I ever had. We also drove around St. Clair Shores and the surrounding areas, which included some beautiful views of Lake St. Clair. Detroit is diverse and multifaceted, and it is unfortunate that it has been so poorly run and suffered from massive population loss over many decades.

Second, and less obvious, is something my friend Tim said before I left. "You have to check out Detroit. In five years, it's going to be the most happening city." You can see signs of that upswing everywhere, but in nascent form. Artists taking root in abandoned neighborhoods. Decrepit areas with new shops popping up like flowers in a vacant lot. Buzz from a community of young, entrepreneurial people who are also walking the walk and putting money behind their vision.

Essentially, in riding around, I sensed a phoenix rising.

Not today. Not in a few years. But definitely in the next 5+ years.

It's inspiring, from where I stand right now, to see that you can take an entity that's been all but razed to the ground and build it back up, when all seems hopeless. In fact, it's when things sometimes seem most down and out, most hopeless, most discouraging, that you can take the biggest risks and grow again - physically and spiritually.

My last few posts have been tinged with exhaustion and weariness. It's not so much from the road trip, but from feeling the weight of my life waiting for me in Atlanta. It's as if real life is crashing back into me, despite being only halfway through my one-month sabbatical. Partly, that's reflex and instinct - I'm geared to start worrying about things after about a two-week vacation. But also, I suppose I'm feeling the enormity of my challenge ahead - career, hobbies, the mundane, car, income, etc.

But like Detroit, it's time to look at the damage, pick up the pieces, and start rebuilding. And that process can involve more risks and more enjoyment, especially when expectations are drastically lowered and not as many people are watching or caring.

There is pain in hitting bottom. But there is also freedom and opportunity.

Sabbatical Day 13: Chicago

This will be a short blog post because I don't have Internet access tonight. I'm staying in Chicago for just a night. I've been here many times before, and I was unable to find a place to crash, so it's also an expensive night!

Nevertheless, I still got out and walked around downtown, had dinner and people watched, and went to the bar on the 95th floor of the Hancock Building. It brought back many memories of my first times in Chicago in 2001 and 2002.

Back then, the 95th floor view of Chicago was so awesome that it turned up in various fiction of mine for a few years. Tonight, it just felt like another place. Yes, the view was great, but I didn't feel anything else. I finished my drink and left.

I miss my sense of wonder from the 1990s and early 2000s. It used to counterbalance my cynicism, but I allowed my wonder and amazement about life to die.

How do I get it back?

Sabbatical Day 12: Minneapolis, Minnesota

Today, I spent most of the day in Minneapolis. Very different vibe than St. Paul - more sprawling, active, and vibrant. My friend Kate and her husband did an excellent job taking me around, and we did a lot of walking over many bridges and by rivers and lakes. Driving around, we saw so many people riding bikes and walking around enjoying their Saturday. We ate breakfast at the Birchwood Cafe, which had all locally grown organic food. At the end of the day, we caught a game between the Minnesota Twins and the Toronto Blue Jays. (Unfortunately, the Twins lost 2-1.)

I don't think I've taken the time to simply enjoy a Saturday outside in many years. There was always projects to do, books to read, and work. I think back to Saturdays in Atlanta where I missed out on maybe grabbing a quick breakfast or coffee, or taking a walk somewhere, or hiking, or just getting out someplace new that I had not explored before. I think back to how many times I turned down a unique experience - a festival, an event, a get-together - because I was "busy" or "didn't feel like it."

Sure, it's easy to think about that now after leaving the world of work for a spell. But I think I also made too many excuses over the years. I know there will be a time when I return to the "grind." But I need to remember this day in Minneapolis and make sure that I'm truly enjoying my free time in Atlanta more - even if it's just enjoying a nice breakfast on a Saturday morning.

Sabbatical Day 11: St. Paul, Minnesota

First, I learned that St. Paul and Minneapolis are two separate cities. So, I am in St. Paul right now! :)

I'll keep this post short because I have been hanging out with a friend who I've not seen in 13 years. I will say that today signified a return to thinking about my future. As I left the harsh climes of North Dakota, civilization began to return. Cars began to crowd the Interstate again. The weather warmed up. More towns appeared. It felt like a glacier was melting.

In the car, my mind tossed around various freelance options, business ideas, creative seeds, and plans for my future. It was all unformulated, but it showed my mind was comfortable thinking about my life again. Entering a major city for the first time since Seattle, I feel the energy again of reentering life. It also helped to talk about my life and what I've learned with my friend and her husband, both of whom can relate to many elements of my journey.

It's a good sign that it's day 11, and (following Dante again) I'm entering the Purgatorio phase of my sabbatical. Now, I begin to crawl out of the abyss and begin to make sense of the unformulated shapes and ideas that will comprise my future.