(NOTE: The following post has been cleaned up a bit since it was first posted. My lovely wife is the best editor I could ask for when it comes to grammar and punctuation. It's nice to have someone you care about point out how bad you are at something. Thanks, honey.)
"Why don't we hear birds singing more often here?" she asked as they walked through the forest, following the ragged, rock-studded trail. Phillip had stopped walking and closed his eyes listening, noticing for the first time the oddly quiet trees. It did seem strange to be in the middle of the forest and to hear so few birds.
"Maybe it's too early for most of them?" he said, guessing. He heard his wife sigh as she started walking again. She had little use for guesses as a rule, and even less patience for guesses that came from him. She had once complained that he had to have an answer for everything, and even if he didn't know, he would make up an answer just to have something to say.
It was the lack of bird song in the air that Phillip found himself thinking about as he regained consciousness. He was on his back, and his blurry gaze smeared the electric-green pines across a clouding sky. He lay still, letting his over-tasked mind take stock of the dozens of messages his body was sending him all at once. The left leg screamed the loudest, its voice cracking and breaking with the force, pushing the slightly softer voices coming from the rest of his body to the background. Phillip started to reach instinctively with his right arm to run down the outside edge of his leg, but it wouldn't move. Best to think about the arm in a minute, he thought, and decided to try his left.
Phillip's index and middle fingers walked slowly down the outside of his hip and down his leg, pulling its arm behind it until he felt his left shoulder lower just slightly, causing a jagged flash of pain to rip across his chest. His fingertips rested on jagged splinters of what he reasoned must be bone. "Shit" he muttered.
Slowly he tried to account for his injuries as best as he could without moving. His left leg was broken into kindling, right arm still immobile, left wrist throbbing with each beat of his heart. Phillip's chest felt like a barbed-wire tumbleweed was blowing around, scraping at the inside of his skin and lungs with each breath. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, not wanting the panic that was tapping him on the shoulder to crawl on top of him and start screaming the truth of his situation in his face.
In movies, when someone wakes up after being knocked unconscious they awaken confused, never sure what happened to them. It takes a doctor or sensative-eyed police officer gently breaking the news before realization and memory comes flooding back. For Phillip though, he remembered everything. He remembered standing on the overlook, watching the swaying treetops at eye level. He remembered the sudden absence of ground under his feet. He remembered the blur of rock and sky. He remembered the warmth of Janelle's palms in the middle of his back and being surprised at the force and strength behind them as she pushed.
Slowly, Phillip opened his eyes and looked to the cliff face above where she still stood, looking down on him. Small in the distance, he imagined a look of disappointment on her face as she looked down at his small movements. They stayed that way, Janelle with arms crossed glaring down the cliff, Phillip reclining amongst the rocks his limbs improbably folded in 45 degree angles, looking at each other through the distance. Slowly, Janelle turned and disappeared from sight.
A soft red movement caught Phillip's eye, and he turned his head to examine the source. High above, perched near the top of a still-budding Maple, a Robin had lighted and swayed in the breeze watching him. Feeling insecure with its perch, the Robin flitted and adjusted, finding purchase on a thicker branch. The bird seemed unafraid, accustomed to the heavy weekend traffic of the state park. Still, it kept its distance while appearing to maintain eye contact and Phillip found himself seeing the same disappointed look that had clouded his wife's face in the sharp intelligence of the Robin's eyes.
Without telegraphing intention, the Robin swooped down and found rest on a lower branch, this one a mere ten feet from Phillip. Still it seemed to keep its focus on him, never looking side to side.
Phillip smiled up at the bird. He saw it breathe in and open its mouth.
"Are you going to sing for me?" he whispered up, his chest pinching around the words.
The bird closed its mouth, turned to the side and flew away.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Bill Czech, Like the Country
I've had a lot of interesting bosses over the years, but none were as puzzlingly amazing as Bill Czech. He led a ragtag team of about twelve Loan Officers through an embarrassingly unproductive couple of years. Bill could be counted on to avoid confrontation, stare at you blankly, blink in confusion and mix metaphors in a way that would make Michael Scott jealous.
Oh, and yes...Bill would introduce himself to people by saying "Hi. My name is Bill Czech. Like the country." Really, Bill? Czech? What language do they speak in Czech?
Each morning, he would rally the troops to discuss any policy changes and get people pumped up for a day of selling. These required meetings were intended to be 5-15 minutes long, get you the information you need and give you that shot in the arm you needed to get on the phone and get hung up on by angry people with credit scores somewhere south of 400. Instead, they turned into a rambling mess of Bill talking about his accomplishments, telling us we need to call more people and find ways to drum up business, and most importantly, delivering impassioned motivational speeches.
At first, these meetings were intolerable. Then, my buddy Gavin and I started keeping notes of things that Bill said in meetings. Sometimes laughing so hard we'd have to hide behind a cubicle wall as we would jot down one of his quotes, we began chronicling the beauty of Bill's wisdom. What follows is Bill's Greatest Hits as collected by Gavin and I. This list represents about half of the quotes we have written down, and are among my personal favorites. Quotes are presented in no particular order. Don't ask me what some of the mean. I just don't know.
1. The word for the month is accountable…it’s accountability.
2. You can only control what you can control, and you can pretty much control everything.
3. My door is always open, unless it’s closed.
4. The girls have sent you stuff of stuff of potential stuff you already need.
5. I didn’t mean to step on Aimee’s thunder.
6. My jaw fell out of my mouth.
7. Spring is right around the corner. (4/6/05)
8. Make quick decisive decisions.
9. I have to watch my words to make sure they are not misinterpreted the wrong way.
10. If I tell you something verbally, it’s just verbal.
11. If you have the "It Factor", you have to imply it here.
12. Look yourselfs in the mirror…Go to the bathroom right now if you need to. (Misspelling intentional for once.)
13. My analogies will always be surrounded by sports.
14. There was a lady being treated for schizophrenia…it was crazy.
15. Use your educated, obviously, loan officer self.
16. Let’s make a conservative effort to get this done as quickly as possible.
17. If you don’t want to be here, I’m not keeping you to be here.
18. You may be able to emphasize what you are not able to miss.
19. Set forth those things that have been set forth by you.
20. Getting off early for the month of June is all of our success.
21. I’d rather have my thumb amputated than have Dhaval here…Or be like a dog and have no thumbs at all. (Note: Dhaval was our Regional Manager at the time.)
22. When the cat is gone, who cares? There should be 17 other cats in here…
23. I may not touch you everyday…
24. We need to get this place to be a squeaky wheel with the grease already on it.
25. It’s extremely important to jump at someone else.
26. You can’t dodge the facts that are real.
27. Lets run and get feathers for our caps.
28. Communication= listening + reading.
29. For those of you that enjoy pool references: we’re not behind the eight ball – we’re not even on the table. (Note: This assumes there is a percentage of people in the room who really enjoy a nice pool reference.)
30. My door is always open except when its closed.
31. Call leads until they bleed or you are stealing from everyone’s mouth.
Oh, and yes...Bill would introduce himself to people by saying "Hi. My name is Bill Czech. Like the country." Really, Bill? Czech? What language do they speak in Czech?
Each morning, he would rally the troops to discuss any policy changes and get people pumped up for a day of selling. These required meetings were intended to be 5-15 minutes long, get you the information you need and give you that shot in the arm you needed to get on the phone and get hung up on by angry people with credit scores somewhere south of 400. Instead, they turned into a rambling mess of Bill talking about his accomplishments, telling us we need to call more people and find ways to drum up business, and most importantly, delivering impassioned motivational speeches.
At first, these meetings were intolerable. Then, my buddy Gavin and I started keeping notes of things that Bill said in meetings. Sometimes laughing so hard we'd have to hide behind a cubicle wall as we would jot down one of his quotes, we began chronicling the beauty of Bill's wisdom. What follows is Bill's Greatest Hits as collected by Gavin and I. This list represents about half of the quotes we have written down, and are among my personal favorites. Quotes are presented in no particular order. Don't ask me what some of the mean. I just don't know.
1. The word for the month is accountable…it’s accountability.
2. You can only control what you can control, and you can pretty much control everything.
3. My door is always open, unless it’s closed.
4. The girls have sent you stuff of stuff of potential stuff you already need.
5. I didn’t mean to step on Aimee’s thunder.
6. My jaw fell out of my mouth.
7. Spring is right around the corner. (4/6/05)
8. Make quick decisive decisions.
9. I have to watch my words to make sure they are not misinterpreted the wrong way.
10. If I tell you something verbally, it’s just verbal.
11. If you have the "It Factor", you have to imply it here.
12. Look yourselfs in the mirror…Go to the bathroom right now if you need to. (Misspelling intentional for once.)
13. My analogies will always be surrounded by sports.
14. There was a lady being treated for schizophrenia…it was crazy.
15. Use your educated, obviously, loan officer self.
16. Let’s make a conservative effort to get this done as quickly as possible.
17. If you don’t want to be here, I’m not keeping you to be here.
18. You may be able to emphasize what you are not able to miss.
19. Set forth those things that have been set forth by you.
20. Getting off early for the month of June is all of our success.
21. I’d rather have my thumb amputated than have Dhaval here…Or be like a dog and have no thumbs at all. (Note: Dhaval was our Regional Manager at the time.)
22. When the cat is gone, who cares? There should be 17 other cats in here…
23. I may not touch you everyday…
24. We need to get this place to be a squeaky wheel with the grease already on it.
25. It’s extremely important to jump at someone else.
26. You can’t dodge the facts that are real.
27. Lets run and get feathers for our caps.
28. Communication= listening + reading.
29. For those of you that enjoy pool references: we’re not behind the eight ball – we’re not even on the table. (Note: This assumes there is a percentage of people in the room who really enjoy a nice pool reference.)
30. My door is always open except when its closed.
31. Call leads until they bleed or you are stealing from everyone’s mouth.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Deep in the Heart of Texas
Texas was a red and brown cigarette burn in the carpet of America. In the summers, the lakes near our home would recede leaving behind bleached skeletal systems of surprisingly large fish that weren't infused with enough instinct to swim for deeper waters. Lawns struggled and wilted, surviving only under the constant administrations of garden hoses and automated sprinkler systems. People scurried like vampires in the sun, ducking from one air conditioned building to another, never looking to the sky. Never needing to.
The attitude of Texans was something I didn't understand at first. You couldn't walk to the corner for beer without counting four bumper stickers that said "Don't Mess With Texas". You couldn't discuss politics without being told that Texas is the only state in the US with that maintains an option to secede from the Union. After a while, it occurred to me Texans are like children working up a bit of false pride over the ownership of an inferior item.
"I prefer the Atari 2600 over the new Nintendo because you can't play Yar's Revenge on Nintendo."
"I don't even like steak. I'm glad we're having liver."
"You know, the Yugo is an economical little car..."
When confronted with an intemperate ashtray of a state you either leave, or make up reasons to love the place. Texans are forced to make up all sorts of shit.
I've decided that I'm going to throw in occasional Texas stories from my past here and there as I go forward with this blog. Some will be mostly true, Some will be complete fabrications. You won't know the difference, and because so much time has passed, it's a real possibility I won't either.
If you do happen to read something that you can't believe I would have been a part of and you are disappointed in me, just know that you're reading lies. Besides, the difference fiction and nonfiction is just a matter of perspective.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Here Comes the Sun
Finally, a beautiful weekend arrived. Because you're never sure when you're going to get the chance to have another one around here, we tried to get out and see the sun while it was willing to show itself.
This morning we got up and hit Old Man's Cave. We got there a little after 9:00 which is perfect. Drunks are still sleeping it off, and the good folks of the world are trudging off to church. When we first arrived, we literally had the entire place to ourselves. We got to climb around the rocks and act like giant dorks without any witnesses.
Below are tons of pictures. They are jumbled and don't follow any real sense of order.
Some guy offered to take this shot for us. It hadn't occurred to me to ask, but since he offered I wasn't going to say no. For a large man, my legs are cartoonishly skinny. I thought they were a couple of strings hanging from my shorts...
The hiking trail pretty much follows this stream the entire way.
This morning we got up and hit Old Man's Cave. We got there a little after 9:00 which is perfect. Drunks are still sleeping it off, and the good folks of the world are trudging off to church. When we first arrived, we literally had the entire place to ourselves. We got to climb around the rocks and act like giant dorks without any witnesses.
Below are tons of pictures. They are jumbled and don't follow any real sense of order.
Some guy offered to take this shot for us. It hadn't occurred to me to ask, but since he offered I wasn't going to say no. For a large man, my legs are cartoonishly skinny. I thought they were a couple of strings hanging from my shorts...
Jen near the lower falls, hating me and my camera.
In the summer these falls have all the power of a three year old taking a whiz in the front yard. Today, after all the rain from last week, it was pouring. All throughout the park today there were dozens of impromptu water falls.
I believe these are referred to as the Lower Falls. Biggest in the park.
Yup.
The hiking trail pretty much follows this stream the entire way.
I'm going to stop now. I feel like that crazy uncle that makes the kids sit down and watch the slide show from their most recent trip to Colorado.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Don't Mess With Texas
I may not have been intoxicated at the exact moment I stood up in the front of the ornate church in some Texas town I've forgotten the name of, but during that period in my life I was rarely without my medication. It's influence was obvious in most of the major decisions I was making at the time. (Note that I said "...when I got married the first time.")
And so it was that I was lying on a mattress that sat on the floor of our little apartment over a garage with my soon to be ex wife trying to sleep when I heard the screaming. It was after ten, which in my mind made things worse. Somehow I thought if a woman were screaming her head off before seven it would be less sinister. Deciding I wanted a cigarette anyway, I searched around for my shoes and headed downstairs with my hunny-bunny bride in tow.
We followed the yells to the edge of the property we lived at to a bridge that crossed a small stream that the neighboring farmer let his cows drink from. We had had a man staying down there a few weeks before, a drifter who was passing through. It wasn't the first of the drifters, but we had gotten used to them quickly as they all seemed to be harmless hippies for the most part. When I heard the screams I was just positive that I would be face to face with a mild-mannered hippie turned rapist, and I was not pleased about it.
Far from sober, it took me a few minutes of looking down at the little stream to realize that the lights coming up out of the dark belonged to a car on its roof - not a sex crazed madman's campfire. I remember standing there, stoned and detached, being so grateful it was just a car accident.
I scrambled down the embankment and a woman was pulling herself through the driver's side window. She had a small cut on her forehead, but otherwise seemed OK. I asked her if there was anyone else in the car, and she said no. To be sure, I got down on my knees in the water and the leaking gasoline peering into a backseat that looked like a traveling yard sale. There was so much shit in there I couldn't even begin to list it.
I called up to have exie call the squad, and the woman and I sat on the side of the hill, me holding her in my arms. She stank of gasoline and beer, and she bawled as I held her. I just hugged her tighter and told her she was OK and to try to be as still as she could because she might be hurt and not realize it. After a few minutes she quieted.
Suddenly, she pushed back against my chest, looking at me for the first time. My hair was an all one length grunge grease mess that just hit my shoulders and I had a goatee so long it tickled my neck and chest when I would read at night in bed. Sometimes it was dyed bright red. I don't recall if it was at the time. Regardless, she saw enough of me in the fading light of her headlights to reconsider our snuggling.
"I don't even know you!" she slurred.
"No. No, you don't."
We didn't talk the rest of the time. The police showed up first. One cop made it down the embankment to check out the situation, and then asked me to stay with her while he called it in. I stayed. Shortly after, the squad showed and they carried her out of the stream on a backboard.
I climbed the embankment and watched them load her into the ambulance smoking a cigarette. Begrudgingly, one of the officers on the scene came over and mumbled "Thanks" and shook my hand with three halfhearted pumps. I guess he didn't like my goatee either.
I sat out on the porch and re medicated (how else does one fall asleep?) and then took a shower to get the gas and mud off of me.
That really encapsulates my Texas experience. Medication, marriage, divorce, being called "faggot-assed faggot" by a farmer while visiting our local Dairy Queen, and just trying to wash it all away in a nice hot shower.
And so it was that I was lying on a mattress that sat on the floor of our little apartment over a garage with my soon to be ex wife trying to sleep when I heard the screaming. It was after ten, which in my mind made things worse. Somehow I thought if a woman were screaming her head off before seven it would be less sinister. Deciding I wanted a cigarette anyway, I searched around for my shoes and headed downstairs with my hunny-bunny bride in tow.
We followed the yells to the edge of the property we lived at to a bridge that crossed a small stream that the neighboring farmer let his cows drink from. We had had a man staying down there a few weeks before, a drifter who was passing through. It wasn't the first of the drifters, but we had gotten used to them quickly as they all seemed to be harmless hippies for the most part. When I heard the screams I was just positive that I would be face to face with a mild-mannered hippie turned rapist, and I was not pleased about it.
Far from sober, it took me a few minutes of looking down at the little stream to realize that the lights coming up out of the dark belonged to a car on its roof - not a sex crazed madman's campfire. I remember standing there, stoned and detached, being so grateful it was just a car accident.
I scrambled down the embankment and a woman was pulling herself through the driver's side window. She had a small cut on her forehead, but otherwise seemed OK. I asked her if there was anyone else in the car, and she said no. To be sure, I got down on my knees in the water and the leaking gasoline peering into a backseat that looked like a traveling yard sale. There was so much shit in there I couldn't even begin to list it.
I called up to have exie call the squad, and the woman and I sat on the side of the hill, me holding her in my arms. She stank of gasoline and beer, and she bawled as I held her. I just hugged her tighter and told her she was OK and to try to be as still as she could because she might be hurt and not realize it. After a few minutes she quieted.
Suddenly, she pushed back against my chest, looking at me for the first time. My hair was an all one length grunge grease mess that just hit my shoulders and I had a goatee so long it tickled my neck and chest when I would read at night in bed. Sometimes it was dyed bright red. I don't recall if it was at the time. Regardless, she saw enough of me in the fading light of her headlights to reconsider our snuggling.
"I don't even know you!" she slurred.
"No. No, you don't."
We didn't talk the rest of the time. The police showed up first. One cop made it down the embankment to check out the situation, and then asked me to stay with her while he called it in. I stayed. Shortly after, the squad showed and they carried her out of the stream on a backboard.
I climbed the embankment and watched them load her into the ambulance smoking a cigarette. Begrudgingly, one of the officers on the scene came over and mumbled "Thanks" and shook my hand with three halfhearted pumps. I guess he didn't like my goatee either.
I sat out on the porch and re medicated (how else does one fall asleep?) and then took a shower to get the gas and mud off of me.
That really encapsulates my Texas experience. Medication, marriage, divorce, being called "faggot-assed faggot" by a farmer while visiting our local Dairy Queen, and just trying to wash it all away in a nice hot shower.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Urban Medium
If any of the two people that have actually peeped out this blog should ever return, you should really go check out http://urbanmedium.com/ . I can't say enough about how great these people are. Seriously, check out DJ-D2 (who graces my cube at work) and Che-Trooper. Straight up brilliant.
While I've picked up some stuff here and there (just got some new T's and I've got tons of their stickers cuz I'm a big sticker dork) I finally placed the order for what I desired most. Kim Jong iLL will be coming to live with me soon. I've got my archival quality frames all picked out and I'm just waiting for them to roll in.
Bring on the crazy North Korean dictator. I've got the spots picked out on the wall for him...
While I've picked up some stuff here and there (just got some new T's and I've got tons of their stickers cuz I'm a big sticker dork) I finally placed the order for what I desired most. Kim Jong iLL will be coming to live with me soon. I've got my archival quality frames all picked out and I'm just waiting for them to roll in.
Bring on the crazy North Korean dictator. I've got the spots picked out on the wall for him...
Putting the Day to Bed
Jen was done tonight. Anxiety woke her up around 2:30 in the morning last night and she wasn't able to fall back asleep. Instead, she got up to do laundry and some general house cleaning. This evening, I painted while she nodded out during the first hour of The Biggest Loser. I used some bold blue in the midst of a red field. She snored softly, still trying to shake off the last of our shared cold.
I put the dogs out while she came upstairs to brush her teeth. She was in bed by the time I got up to say goodnight to her. She was already on her way out, drifting.
Her face is changing. It's different than it was 40 pounds ago, and for a moment she was a stranger bundled under a familiar comforter. In my mind, I saw what she may look like thirty years from now buried under the skin of a cranky sleep deprived brow. I liked what I saw. I kissed her forehead, smoothing out some of the furrowed skin there that seems more familiar on the faces of my young nephews than it does on my wife, and she was gone.
I had one of those "This is not my beautiful house / This is not my beautiful wife!" moments. Suddenly everything current in my life felt like completely new to me, and I stood there beside the bed looking down on her wondering how I ever got to this point.
It seems like a year ago we were all sitting in the grass outside of that North Dallas apartment complex singing into the night. It was a month ago I came crawling back north confused and looking for a place to live. A week ago I lived in that old house downtown drinking too much and living in fear of parking on the street.
The moment was gone before it fully arrived. I felt it pass the moment it touched me and was left feeling simply grateful.
I put the dogs out while she came upstairs to brush her teeth. She was in bed by the time I got up to say goodnight to her. She was already on her way out, drifting.
Her face is changing. It's different than it was 40 pounds ago, and for a moment she was a stranger bundled under a familiar comforter. In my mind, I saw what she may look like thirty years from now buried under the skin of a cranky sleep deprived brow. I liked what I saw. I kissed her forehead, smoothing out some of the furrowed skin there that seems more familiar on the faces of my young nephews than it does on my wife, and she was gone.
I had one of those "This is not my beautiful house / This is not my beautiful wife!" moments. Suddenly everything current in my life felt like completely new to me, and I stood there beside the bed looking down on her wondering how I ever got to this point.
It seems like a year ago we were all sitting in the grass outside of that North Dallas apartment complex singing into the night. It was a month ago I came crawling back north confused and looking for a place to live. A week ago I lived in that old house downtown drinking too much and living in fear of parking on the street.
The moment was gone before it fully arrived. I felt it pass the moment it touched me and was left feeling simply grateful.
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