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STANDING

2009 is finally almost over. Thank fuck for that.

As I’ve looked back over this past year, what sticks out to me is what an insane roller coaster ride it was. I had some incredible highs this year; on the other hand, I had some of the lowest lows to come along since Rebecca and I split.

It’s hard to find the balance.

On the high side, I worked very hard this year, and in doing so, I gained the respect of my colleagues in a way I never thought possible. I gave a presentation in Albuquerque last May that drew a ton of people, and when it was done, I was flying high in a way that no drink or drug could ever induce. That evening I spent time with an old friend whom I had missed terribly, beginning what was really a full year of touching base with the past and bringing it all to the present. It was amazing.

In the fall, I took on the role of professor for the first time. No longer would I be just the “hired gunslinger” that rolled into classes, taught for a day, and left the students behind. Instead, I would take responsibility for the same group of students across a sixteen-week span. It was a life-changing experience. I learned so much it was almost sickening. The hired gun stuff is fine for now, but I think my future may be in putting away the pistols and grabbing the whip and chair, spending the semesters taming a new group each time. Feeling the full effect of my impact in a way that my day job doesn’t really allow.

The lows… they were always there creeping in the background. Exactly one week after my triumphant night in New Mexico, I spent the evening in the company of someone who, in the space of two hours, completely destroyed every bit of confidence and self-esteem I possessed. I can still feel the emotional sensations from that evening reverberating through me to this day. Not too much later, I thought I had met someone really grand, someone I thought might be my next longterm relationship. Instead, she broke my heart. Coming so close to that prior soul-crushing, it left me almost completely malfunctional.

Confidence was an ongoing issue. Every time it seemed like I was gaining a bit, something would happen to kick me back down. I wandered dazed throughout much of the summer and early autumn. I discovered that I can fake my way through work, fake my way through social events, fake my way through so many things.

The zombie apocalypse is already here. If I can do what I did, then how many other thousands or millions are doing the exact same thing? The dead are walking among us; they just aren’t advertising that fact. Yet.

For all of it, I kept plugging along. The occasional high moment would come along, and I would thus be injected with a new fervor to work towards the next one. Knowing the lows were coming, I put my focus on numbing myself to them and waiting them out. It was a playing of the odds; the Law of Averages means that things do eventually have to swing back the other way.

And if you can’t trust the law, you’re screwed. Really, really screwed.

What I ultimately remembered, though, is that sometimes you have to make your own luck. Sometimes the only way to uphold the law is by breaking it for the greater good. Thus, I set out to end the year on my terms, and on my high.

As far back as 2003, I had put together a collection of columns from when I was doing Happy Nonsense on a weekly basis, adding a few short stories into the mix as well. However, it had never come together, and sat collecting metaphorical dust for years. Back in April I had dug it out and added author’s commentary for each piece, thinking that perhaps this would be the year I got it out in front of the public. Then all the shit I mentioned above started happening, and I put it aside again. Cut to December.

Taking charge of my fate, and putting the lows behind me, the book finally got finished and released.

When I held it in my hands, it was like light coursing through my veins. If I died tonight, I have at least left that behind. It’s a snapshot image of who I was from my late 20s to my early 30s, for better or worse.

Maybe that’s what it is all ultimately about. I had never wanted children of my own, but after having three step-children in my life during some of those years, I developed a strong realization of how much kids represent our footprint on this planet. Even now, as she nears 14, I see my impact on Krysten quite clearly. It’s brilliant to see those little things she picked up from me and incorporated into her personality at a young age still developing as a teen.

What I will mostly leave behind, though, are my words. THE JOKER’S ADVOCATE is hopefully just the start. What my focus will be on in 2010 is in powering through and upping my creative output. Producing more “children” with my name on the cover and/or in the credits.

So now I say goodbye to 2009. It wasn’t the world’s greatest experience. But it had its moments; the best one I made myself, quite literally. And hopefully by the time this day rolls around in another year, you’ll find me right here, doing what no series of lows can stop me from doing.

Still standing.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009  
SECOND

Am I doomed to be permanently second?

That’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. Why? Because it certainly rather seems like it. Like I’ve hit a place in my life where I will never, ever truly win. Or be allowed to. Like I’m gained some sort of mystical curse that gives me the latent ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

That I will always be second best, no matter what I am doing.

This concern stretches across all aspects of my life. Work? Sure. And when it comes to the day job, that’s sort of the only one I can live with; I work alongside absolutely incredible, talented people on the day job. Many of them have tons more experience than me, and it shows. Acceptable. But other work? That’s a different story.

Take CWR, for example. It’s been running on its bi-weekly magazine schedule for almost two years now. We’ve never missed a deadline. The site produces some consistently interesting and intellectually challenging material. But ultimately, it doesn’t have the audience that it should or that it deserves. I’m starting to run out of ideas for how to change that.

Is it because we only run every two weeks? In the beginning, CWR was a daily update site. The numbers were smaller then, as well. There are about three sites that are daily necessities for comics folk, and trying to add myself to that number was folly. Is it because we don’t run in a blog format? It seems like every site out there is running on Wordpress, and they all look the same. Should I sacrifice my integrity and stated desire to do something that looks different and stands out from the crowd? Those aren’t easy questions. Maybe that would make a difference. Or maybe we’d still be right where we’re at.

Maybe CWR has simply risen to where it belongs and where it will stay: as a second-tier website struggling for audience and respect. But I owe it to myself and to those who are writing for me to continue to try and make that push forward.

My personal life?

Looking at my dating history over the last two or three years, the consistent outcome for me has gotten to a point where it would be funny if it wasn’t so maddening. To wit:

The girl that really liked me, but decided that I don’t spend enough time outdoors (I’m an avid bicyclist that spends huge chunks of his fall-through-spring weekends outside, pedaling his way all over the city, mind you). The woman that decided that she needed to buy a business to run during the day and on weekends because her night job wasn’t fulfilling enough and then complained we never got to spend enough time together. When I pointed this out, I didn’t get even the slightest response that made sense. Except that I would be second. Always second.

So in that case, I was the first to leave.

If those were the only two, it would be one thing, but add another three or four, and you’ll be in the right vicinity. My fate seems to be thus: I am great/awesome/ideal BUT there might be someone better, so adios!

It kinda fuckin’ sucks.

And I can’t put it on any of the women (except the business owner- bleah). When a pattern emerges, and something is no longer just a coincidence, you have to look at the common denomenator and say “Dude, it’s YOU.” There’s something about me, something about my emotional and/or behavioral makeup, that makes me easily flushable.

I wish I knew what it was.

(I have some ideas, mind you, but some things even I can’t broadcast.)

Second on the job. Second in the heart. Second at the keyboard. I sit at the computer, writing the day away, and I turn out work that I know is good, quality, material. But the critic in me? He’s a bastard. And he judges that work as just that; good, but never rising to that next level. Never achieving the level that transcends my capabilities. Pathetic compared to so many others that I admire. Justthisclose to calling me a fraud. That’s right:

Even in part of my own brain, I’m always second best. What the fuck is wrong with me?

All I know for sure is: being second is excruciating.

What are the perks to being second? Confusion. Inability to trust. Being left in the dark. Self-loathing. Frustration. There are others, but why belabor it?

I don’t even know how to ask to NOT be second. What’s that plea like? “Please let the world stop kicking me in the crotch and cut me a break.” “I’d like to leave my neuroses at the gate for this project, okay?” How is that prayer structured? “Please fix me so I’m not so fucked that I drive people away. Amen.”

Two things I do know for sure: one, I have rambled on like a madman. And two, if you had many options for things to read right now, I’m guessing this one wasn’t the one you picked first.

Saturday, March 28, 2009  
My Day at the LPGA Tournament, or “Why my face is burned to a crisp.”

I’ve made a habit the last few years of hitting the LPGA tournament when it rolls through town. The reasons are many: I love golf (the men and women’s tours both), the tickets are inexpensive (I bought mine online and printed it myself for $17), and the LPGA offers the most fan-friendly experience of any major sporting league. On pretty much every hole today, I walked side-by-side next to the players whose group I was following. The PGA hides their players like they’re in witness protection instead of a professional sport. Plus, each player, upon signing their scorecard, hits the autograph booth. Paging Tiger Woods? Yeah, right.

The past few years, the tournament has been played on a spectacular course out on the fringe of the Valley at Superstition Mountain. The drive was always a pain, but the quality of the course and the tremendous field the event draws always made it worth the hike. But with changes in sponsorship and trouble at the course, it moved this year. To a course about six miles from my house.


That meant I could hop on my bicycle and ride to the tournament, which elevated my mood intensely. Checking the pairings last night, I saw that my favorite player, Christina Kim, was paired with an up-and-comer named Erica Blasberg, teeing off at 9:16am. That meant I basically needed to get out of bed like it was a workday and go- sold!


I arrived at the course around 9am, giving me enough time to get back to hole #1 as the group in front of Kim and Blasberg were preparing to putt out. Soon enough, the green cleared and both Christina and Erica took shots at getting home in two on the opening par five hole. Kim, being one of the longer hitters on the tour, made it to the left fringe, while Blasberg came up a bit short. Erica’s third left her fifteen feet behind the pin for birdie, while Christina’s eagle putt from 60 feet rolled to within five feet. She sank her birdie while her playing partner missed and made par, and they were off and running.


Christina Kim became my favorite player when I first got interested in the LPGA back in 2005. As a Korean-American, she bridges the two national groups the primarily make up the tour; however, when she had the opportunity to play for the United States in the Solheim Cup at Crooked Stick in 2005, you could see just how much it meant to her to have the opportunity to represent the stars and stripes. She played hard, feisty golf, her brash and fun personality lifting the spirits of her playing partners.


And that’s what you notice about Kim- her personality on the course. She seems to remember that golf is her job, but it is also fun. Christina talks to the ball, perhaps hoping to verbally command it to obey her directives. She chats with her playing partners like they’re her best friends. She’s good with the media (and she “gets it” on a number of issues- this is a player who knows how to sublimate her own ego and desires for things that will help the tour) and even better- she’s great with the fans. Who can forget when, at the ADT championship in 2007, she hit a great shot and then turned and did a full jumping side-bump with her caddie as a nod to her pro-am partners that week?


Oh, and today after their round? Blasberg signed autographs for about four minutes before wandering off. Kim stayed and autographed for the entire line, including a number of junior girls golfers. Me? She signed my USGA 2009 Member's US Open hat with a pink Sharpie. That one goes on the shelf, thanks.


Another thing I’ll point out about following this group today: they played fast. The LPGA has a reputation for slow play (and over on the PGA Tour, one of the three slowest players on Earth, Sean O’Hair is leading this weekend), but Kim and Blasberg played with their feet on the pedal. 9:16am tee time, 1:30pm finish. 4 hours, 14 minutes. On three occasions, they were held up by the group in front of them, which means they could have conceivably finished in four hours flat, easy. Last year, when I watched Kim’s group, she was paired with Michelle Redman, who was so slow that she might still be finishing. That’s a key element when going out to watch a golf tournament and finding a group to follow- find out who has a reputation for fast play (or vice versa- find out whom to avoid- you’ve now been warned about Redman).


I was very impressed with the number of kids on the grounds, and for this being the first year that the Papago course is hosting the event, I thought they did a pretty fair job of it. Honestly, this really is a great way to spend your time and hard-earned cash, because you can get so much out of it. Had I purchased online, I could have gotten a five-day pass that covered all four rounds and Wednesday’s pro-am for $64. That’s a sweet deal, no denying it.


There are things the LPGA could be doing better- they need to help their players develop a stronger personal web presence (a player as popular as Kim needs a website, merchandise, fan club, etc., and the tour’s enormous Korean contingent could make huge inroads with American fans by having websites, blogging, the complete enchilada); more players need to start using Twitter (so far, only Natalie Gulbis has taken the plunge, along with the “tour” itself); and I’d like to see the tour get more active about getting players out to other events for publicity. I saw nothing this week about players throwing out first pitches at spring training, for instance, and it seems like that would be a natural. Still, there’s a lot that the tour is doing right, and the proof is in the tournament itself. So do yourself a favor and check it out- you’ll be glad you did. And you could probably use the sunshine! Just make sure your sunscreen holds up… unlike mine.

6:14 PM

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Friday, March 06, 2009  
PLANET P, “WHY ME?”, AND ME.

I’ve been playing an “80s song of the day” via Twitter and Facebook over the past few weeks, purely as an exercise in fun and nostalgia. Despite the decade’s more… unusual excesses… it did manage to turn out some decent music. And some music that’s so awful that you have to celebrate the fact that someone still managed to get it recorded, published, and into stores. But it wasn’t until yesterday (March 5th) that I actually played a song that meant something to me. What surprised me, though, was just how much the music seeped back into my brain as it played, and the memories and feelings it would dredge up.

The song is “Why Me?” by the band Planet P (Project), a side effort by musician Tony Carey. The first Planet P album is a masterpiece of wonder and concept, and while Carey has only released two more records under that band name (the latest one after a twenty-year hiatus), they don’t compare to that initial effort. “Why Me?” is, on the surface, the lament of an astronaut launching into a journey and coming to regret the isolation that this duty has brought into his soul.

So what makes it special to me? I’m not an astronaut, after all. Simply put: it was probably the first time that I listened to a song and realized what it was REALLY about beyond the lyrics. Sure, there’s a deeper message about isolation in the lyrics, but that’s not what the song is about.

“Why Me?” is about someone fulfilling a destiny that they want no part of. About getting so caught up in a culture that pushes excellence upon its members that you can lose sight of what you really want and instead do what everyone expects of you. About how living within that culture becomes an addiction and realizing your addiction only when it has come closest to destroying you.

I understood what the song was about very, very well.

To say that my youth was spent in a culture that pushed excellence would be an understatement. I was part of an amazing group of fellow geniuses that thrived on pushing each other higher and farther in our intellectual pursuits. Billy, Eric, Tina, Jill and I found ways every day to raise our level of performance past the others, forcing the rest to take note and think about ways to keep up. It wasn’t just school. It was practically a sport. And even though I played sports incessantly, and worked as a sports reporter, our group made for the most competitive environment I’ve ever been around.

It was brutal. Whether it was a class presentation or the speed at which one completed a math test, there was an unrelenting pressure to be better, no excuses.

And like an addict, I craved it. A huge part of me thrived on it, because there was nothing better than the thrill of having a day where you felt like you had set the standard for everyone else. But there was also a part of me, a small one at first, that I began to see what was happening as a disease.

I was diseased.

So that’s how I went into high school. Feeling like a part of me was diseased. Wrong. All (not so) wonderful emotions for a 14-year old, for sure. But there’s really not a damned thing you can do about it at that point.

I couldn’t exactly say “Fuck this- I just want to be happy, find out who I am, and let academics go.” I was shouldering huge expectations from my family as well. I wasn’t going to get any sort of large college dollars from any of them. So the focus on scholarship money, etc. was prominent. But as desperate as I felt, I was also feeding the addict, because I didn’t know any other way.

Being around my friends (and I love them all dearly to this day- I was lucky to have them in my life, and know that it was a privilege) was like… like I was an alcoholic living in an apartment upstairs from a bar. Morning brought a new fix as I walked through those glass doors. How could I screw up my life that fresh, new day? I’d find a way.

Then the worst possible thing happened.

Each year there was an academic awards ceremony, giving out top awards in various categories, as well as a “Student of the Year” award (male and female) for each (freshman, sophomore, etc.) class. My freshman year, I won the award.

I was soooooooo fucked.

One, you could only win the award once. So there was this stunning feeling that I had maxed out and had nowhere to go but down for the next three years. Two, it simply demonstrated that my addiction to my own competitive nature had actually paid off. Talk about mixed messages! So after it was all over, and I was home and allowed to show my true feelings about what was happening to me (to my mirror, not to my mother- I trusted only me at that point, and even then, not very much), I had my first inclination to run.

It wouldn’t be the last time my fight-or-flight instinct kicked in. At least one other time I was really close, going so far as to figure out the logistics of how it would work. And, ironically, I suppose I sort of did in the long run by moving to the desert. But there no question that I had begun to crack around the edges, and that added a new problem: I was going to have to work harder to fake my way through it all.

Yes, the competitiveness encompassed emotional states as well. Never let ‘em see you sweat, and none of us ever did. Invincibility can be a curse, and I focused my energy to trying to make it look like my struggles could just be passed off as moodiness. And I’m reasonably certain that a good number of the people I went to school with would tell you to this day, twenty years later, that I am one of the moodiest bastards they’ve ever known.

Mom would be so proud.

Throw in some family issues to go with all of it, and I was in full retreat. I had my moments of joy, of course, and I had some wonderful friends who took the edge off of that feeling. Sometimes, I even felt a real sense of self-worth, not just the one I could fake like an Oscar-caliber actor.

Over the past six months or so, the internet has brought many people back into my life from back then, old classmates living their new lives. It’s been an incredibly rewarding and fulfilling experience in many ways, yet bittersweet in others.

As a person who left and had very little contact with anyone over the past two decades, I suppose when I began reaching out I was guessing that there might be some sort of mild curiosity factor and people might actually talk to me. For a short while, at least, until they remembered what I pill I was as a kid. Then I figured I’d get dropped and folks would move on. But that hasn’t been the case at all. I’ve had wonderful experiences with people. Time has taken us to different places, and while that time has taken the edge off of me and I’ve evolved into a wildly different man than they knew, old friends have also been open to seeing me in that light. For that, I’m enormously grateful.

The bittersweet comes from looking now and seeing all I missed. These extraordinary people (that tolerated my bullshit) have lived amazing lives, and being privy to some of it now, I feel the sense of loss that comes with time and tide having passed you by. Births, deaths, marriages, divorces, illnesses.

My first semester at ASU I floundered badly, earning the first “C”s of my academic career. I struggled with discipline, but mostly I struggled with motivation. It took me a while to figure it out, but it was because I was going through the DTs. I had no one to compete with. No one pushing me and keeping me moving forward. Ironically enough, I got what I had always wanted, but didn’t know how to handle it. It took me those first few months to settle in and begin to figure out who I was without my “drug.” Second semester, I got myself together and began to feel the disease slip away. My self-hatred began to calm, and my personality began to develop on its own (if perhaps a bit late).

So the question of “why me?” stopped being a lament. Instead, I learned how to add a word: why NOT me? Open for the first time, I could explore the world on my terms; live the life that I wanted to live. Which has brought me to here. This place in my mind, in my heart, where I am part of a destiny that I do not fear and can embrace.

A thousand other places to be? Sure. But I wouldn’t be anywhere, or anyone, else.

12:56 PM

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Monday, February 23, 2009  
HOLLY ELDREDGE...

... is not only one of the most attractive women you'll ever meet, she's also a damned fine chef and has redefined the concept of what a cookie should taste like with her amazing baking skills.

*(all of which was not said under duress. really.)
9:24 PM

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