Over the weekend I traveled to Chicago to see a holy union ceremony between one of my oldest friends and his partner. Quite simply it was a beautiful service performed in an atmosphere of love, acceptance, and understanding. Normally I am not a church going person; the rote rituals and dogmatic following of traditions don’t interest me. However, I would make an exception for the Broadway United Methodist Church of Chicago. The air of inclusion and acceptance there was palpable. The ministers and congregation didn’t just give lip service to these ideals, they lived them. It was a place that Michele would have dearly loved and appreciated. Were we to ever live close enough to attend regularly she would have wanted to join.
Going to such a life affirming celebration was surprisingly difficult. I hadn’t consciously prepared myself for the pang of grief that came over me midway through the ceremony. I was crying because I missed Michele, and because she missed J’s wedding day. And I was crying because seeing the love shared by the two J’s reminded me that my life’s love is gone. A part of me wonders whether I’ll ever be so fortunate as to be in a deeply loving and caring relationship like that again.
With the slow passage of time I am growing more accepting of my new position in life. Moreover I am increasingly accepting of the fact that I will have to move on from the place where I am at currently, I cannot know what the future looks like for me, and I am not yet done mourning the loss of the future I had envisioned for Michele and myself, but I can accept that the shadows of my grief are slowly being replaced by the dawning sunlight of a new lease on life.
Since learning of my mother’s terminal condition almost two months ago, the amount of contact I have with my parents, in person and on the phone, has naturally increased. Even having just seen her last Friday I am already contemplating my next visit. Not knowing when the last visit will happen, but knowing that it is inevitable has given me a certain motivation.
Our visit last week was more poignant than the previous one in March. I had a chance to sit and talk to my mom, and we shared some tears. I have worked hard at saying to her the things I need to say so when her time comes I’m not left with regrets forever. I don’t know that I would have a premonition or not, but I didn’t feel like this weekend was the last time I’ll see mom alive.
My social calendar has some upcoming events on it, making the next trip to Illinois possible in two weeks, or in four weeks. The four week date will coincide with my 45th birthday. I have all sorts of mixed feelings about that weekend. On the one hand I am wanting to be selfish and keep that day for me. I am going to miss terribly the special little things Michele always did in the past on “my” day. Not having her around this year will be tough. However, I would have a hard time forgiving myself if I stayed away that weekend and didn’t see my mom alive again. Having just spent the last three days driving to central Illinois, then Chicago, and back, I am not keen on making another trip in just two weeks. My plan is to talk to mom and dad and gauge how she is faring before making a firm commitment, but I am thinking I’ll return to Decatur again in four weeks.
Now that I have eyes that see at two non-intersecting focal lengths I’ve discovered a neat (if strange) visual trick. Those of you without mono-vision will just have to image the effect. For the rest of you here’s how to see your very own 3D images without the colored paper glasses.
Cool. Strange, but cool.
What I think is happening is that my brain is seeing both the in focus background from the distance eye, and the in focus hand from the near eye and overlaying the two images. When I was a child I was fascinated by an optical illusion using a cardboard paper towel or toilet paper tube. Put the tube in front of one eye and your hand against the tube, in front of the other eye. With both eyes open it will appear like there is a hole in your hand. Your brain is overlaying the two images.
My little 3D trick is like that, only without the tube.
Tomorrow it will have been two weeks since I underwent LASIK eye surgery to correct my vision. My patience (never something I possess in abundance) is all but gone. I am not able to see with out squinting, or sitting 5 inches away from what I trying to do. Driving at night is surreal and awful - there are halos around all the lights and I have a hard time focusing my attention on just the road. I will admit that I am terrified that I have made a huge mistake and that I’ll end up regretting this for the rest of my life. My fear is that I am going to need glasses in order to see past the alterations that don’t seem to be helping me see yet.
The literature is very vague about healing times and what to expect when. I understand that it could take a month or more for the cornea to fully heal, and that my vision might fluctuate for up to six months, maybe longer. Reconciling that understanding with a daily struggle to simply see to read the computer or watch television is frustrating and wearing me down. I had thought that doing something good for me, something that would eliminate the frustrations I had with bifocals, was a good idea. More and more I am thinking that stacking the need for patience and acceptance on top of my current emotional load might have been really stupid.
At present I can see a slightly out of focus and strangely luminescent image beyond arms reach with my left eye. Text on the screen is manageable, but not in focus. Unless this improves in the coming weeks and months I will need a corrective lens in order to see clearly. Between two and eight inches I am able to see quite clearly; unfortunately leaning into the computer screen to see with my right eye for eight or ten or twelve hours a day is killing my back. So my choice is comfortable seating position, out-of-focus headache producing sight, or in focus, back killing posture sight.
I am not at all happy about this, but I am resigned to my fate. Hopefully in three or six or twelve months I’ll be writing a new posting retracting all of this fear and upset.
Oh, and just to rub salt in this particular self inflicted wound, the first monthly payment statement arrived in the mail yesterday.
The building where I work has a cafeteria on the ground floor, and vending machine areas on the third, forth, and fifth floors. Why the second floor got skipped is beyond me, and a subject for another rant.
The third floor vending room has a change machine, a soda machine, and a vending machine with the usual array of snacks and candies. Sodas are $0.75 each (water $1.25); items in the vending machine are either $0.75, $1.00, or $1.25. The maintenance schedule for the machines is haphazardous at best so on any given visit your odds on being faced with a change machine that is out of change, and a vending machine that is either out of change or unable to accept dollar bills, are high.
Some de-compiling of the vending machines interface was necessary to figure out what all of its messages meant.
Use Exact Change Only means it no longer can produce change. If you stick in more than the item costs, you aren’t getting any money back. In this mode it’ll still accept dollar bills.
Use Coins Only was a little trickier. At first glance this appears to mean no change can be given, like above. What it actually means is that machine’s bill reader storage unit is full. It can still produce change, but it can’t accept dollars any more.
Of course these two modes are hard-wired to the change machine. When the vending machine is either full of dollars or out of coin it triggers a state change in the bill changer causing it to be out of order. Fortunately there is a way to solve this problem: use the soda machine as a bill changer. It seemingly never runs out of change nor gets full of dollar bills; sticking a one into its slot and pressing the change return button produces four quarters. And sticking a quarter in and pressing the change return button results in two dimes and a nickel.
Having solved the puzzle like a good monkey I get my cheetos.
Next weekend, on my way to Chicago to see J & J publicly proclaim their commitment to each other, I am stopping off in Decatur. Like my last visit a few weeks ago I am simultaneously looking forward to, and dreading the time spent there. Mom’s initial diagnosis in February indicated a two month life-span, untreated. While she has been able to undergo some treatments, a scan last week revealed that the tumor has grown at least twenty percent. As she puts it, her condition is terminal. My father tells me that she is comfortable for the most part, and not in much pain. With no real roadmap there is no way to know when she will die.
And so I don’t know if this will be the last time I see her or not.
Being a grownup sucks, sometimes.
Several times now I have spent one or both weekend mornings camped out in various Panera Bread locations. On the surface this is an effort to get me out of the apartment, to do something different. Ever since I used to haunt the indoor mall in Springfield I have known that people watching works for me. I like the hustle and bustle of busy people. All those years ago, when I’d stand at the center court balcony railing and watch the people around and below me, my thoughts were of how different from them I felt. Obviously they were okay and I was not, they belonged and I didn’t. Today I feel similar feelings, although for vastly different reasons.
This morning, as I sit in Panera Bread, laptop open in front of me, my ulterior motive is that I’ll met new people. I am putting myself on display. While I am at times very conflicted about moving my life forward in the wake of Michele’s death, I am determined to keep moving. Still waters may be deep, but they also become stagnant and die.
Even as I write this posting I find it incredibly hard to be honest about wanting to move on from Michele. At some level I understand that I cannot but help to move on, the mere act of living and being will ensure that eventuality. The question I must pose of myself is whether I want to be actively involved in the direction the movement takes or am I willing to be swept along willy-nilly?
Being swept along willy-nilly offers the illusion of deniability; I didn’t plan on this or that happening - it just did. Unfortunately, not choosing to vote is still voting. Not choosing to have direction in my life is choosing an aimless and directionless existence. In order to have direction I must come to terms with being actively involved in stepping out of the shadow of my relationship with Michele. I have to accept that I am leaving parts of me and her behind.
So instead of actively seeking new people to know and, perhaps, develop a relationship with, I come to coffee houses and basically put myself in the way of people who I view as having something I don’t, in the hopes that they will approach me. So far it isn’t working very well, but at least I finally understand the compulsion behind it.
Empty Alone Scared Lonely Angry
Sad Numb Tired Bored Curious
Jealous Hurt Mistrusting Wary Uncaring
Regretful Sorry Unhappy Resigned Old
Husk Shell Void Empty Darkness
Pain Suffering Alive Worn Manic
Depressed Laughter Tears Optimism Futility
Unending Relentless Freeing Centering Gestalt
Love Apathy Caring Uncaring Motionless
Hope Faith Dawn Capricious God
This week I’ve been reading Company Man by Joseph Finder. The plot has a nice twist to it and over all the story was very satisfying. This books marks the first time I have been able to read in bed before going to sleep where I could focus on the text without my glasses. I’m not sure that made a good tale any batter but it did make it more fun for me.
Rating: Compelling and well-paced
What I like about film noir is the increasing state of confusion with which the central protagonist often finds himself embroiled. Where are the lies and where is the truth? Basic Instinct II captures, through plot twists and misdirection, much of what makes good film noir good film.
Unfortunately, I think this movie will suffer for the base aspects of sex and nudity that will be talked about and used to wrongly categorize a very good thriller.
Rating: Sexy who dunnit with an attitude