Life & Times: Part I

This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful life. How did I get here?

I've decided to write another kinda serious series of blog posts, traveling back in time, going over the thoughts, actions (both internal and external), and emotions that got me here.

"Here" is everything and nothing all at once. It is everything in the sense that it is all I have. Nothing in the sense that I feel like I am starting over from scratch, back at square one, with nothing much of my past to show for anything.

I'm 25 years old, basically unemployed and uneducated (that is to say I lack much formal education), in a place that I would have never pictured myself in, living with someone I would have never pictured myself living with, all the while gazing from afar at what was my life.

I feel like Facebook is the crystal glass of my past. I use it to keep up with old friends, sure, but it acts more as an alternate form of reality to me. I see all of my friends from back "home" and what they are up to: through photos, event invitations, wall banter between them all, and I feel a large sense of disconnection. I subconsciously put myself into those pictures and events that make up the life I should, would or could be living. I wait helplessly for the day my ex girlfriend's relationship status changes from "single" to something else. I try to picture myself in the background of group photos. I see other friends leaving "home," but for a destination; somewhere they are headed for a purpose, whether it be further education, employment, or love. These are the worst parts about being away from "home."

So, I pose the question to myslef time and time again: what am I doing here?

I had a bit of a revelation regarding the answer, just earlier this week. As I left the Cook County courthouse a free man, with all of my DUI woes behind me, it started to come together. My first reaction was sheer elation. I was really worried I was not going to leave the courthouse that day. Though I had complied with all of the stipulations of the court, after everything I had been through, a part of me was just not sure what would happen.

After nearly crying on my drive home, and actually shedding a few tears as I hugged my Mom goodbye, I turned the radio of my sweet new 1991 Pontiac up loud, and sang along with my old Chicago stations. I felt great, free, and almost reborn.

The further south down I-57 I got, the more and more the excitement faded and I came down from my emotional high. It's not that I got sad all of a sudden, but I began to think about the question once again: where was I headed and why?

I came to the partial conclusion that I was avoiding "home" because of all the emotional baggage attached to it. For nine months I had been escaping (or hiding from) my problems. Initially it was just the DUI, and maybe some minor family issues. But then it turned into more serious family issues, responsibilities I had back "home" and of course, eventually Jess.

So, less than a week later I am asking myself the question again. The answer has not changed much, and it's still not much of an answer. Have I convinced myself that Champaign is just more fitting to my lifestyle? I don't think so. Am I simply not strong enough to deal with the emotional pain of being near my ex? Is there more to it than that? What events, people, emotions and actions have lead to my move and caused me to stay here?

The Kennel Chronicles

Coming this Summer...

The Shitstorm rages on

My car was totalled. I thought that was the last of it. I was wrong.

I got a letter n the mail from the IRS yesterday. I'm being audited.

So, let's add up all of the bullshit I have been through in the last nine months or so: DUI arrest, never-ending breakup and heartache, eviction, job loss, arrest on a warrant leading to a night in Champaign county, serious car accident, and now, IRS audit.

I have court next week, and I'm sure the great state of Illinois and the County of Cook will somehow find a way to lock me up again. But I'm not going to let that, or any of this other bullshit bring me down. I'm still here, standing tall, with my friends and family behind me. What doesn't kill me will only make me stronger. That's the attitude I have to have. Sink or swim, fight or flight. I'm not going to be a victim any more.

My car may be gone, I may have lost the best job I ever had and the greatest girl I have ever met, but I will not let the past get in the way of my future. I have paid for my crimes, learned many lessons, and lost many friends in the process, but I've also made many. I've also become a better person because of what has happened to me. And I would did it all over again, simply for the experience.

Hello World! It's me, Ryan, and I'm back.

Always Something, Sometimes Nothing

a short poem

It will always be somewhere
Floating around in space
Waiting for it's time
While praying for it's death

It has no choice in many matters
Where it goes
How it gets there
Or if it ever will

It was once a butterfly
Now back in a cocoon
Dreaming of spreading it's wings once again
Trying to remember the last time it did

Harmonica makes me weep

To all my faithful blog readers (and friends)...

I have to come clean about something.

I have been trying to be strong. I have been trying to move on. I have been trying to forget. But I can't.

I miss her so much. I never realized how much of my life was her: depended on her, endeared her, made her a part of me and me a part of her.

I still don't know for certain if I miss her or just the feeling of being with someone. But that seems to have less and less bearing as the days pass. It's being with someone who happens to be her that I miss.

I've lost my orbit.

You can't spell Victim Impact Panel without Victim Impact

Today started out like most days for the typical blue collar working folk: up by eight, work by nine. I on the other hand, have not been up at eight for... well let's just say I don't recall the last time I was awake at 8AM and sober. But I had to work today at nine, or at least thought I did.

Apparently it's tomorrow that I work at nine. So, I did what any other self-respecting, underemployed, broke as a joke person would do - stood in line for food stamps. There is something refreshing about saying that out loud (via blog). It's probably just the middle-class, suburban roots, but when I even think food stamps, I picture Cabrini Green: single mother, five kids in a two bedroom apartment, trading diapers for crack (somebody's getting the raw end of that deal). I am aware that is extremely ignorant, but blame my stupid background!

Anyhow, when you approach the check-in counter at the Department of Human Services (after being politely scolded by the security guard (yes, they have a security guard), and are asked to repeat yourself, you feel a sense of shame stating "I'm looking to apply for food stamps," twice.

So, there it is; in black and white for the world to see. I applied for food stamps today. And you know what? I hold no shame! You know why? Because since the day my father lost his six figure income, my family and I have been nothing but screwed over by this wretched government of ours, and I am more than willing to take any penny they are willing to hand out to me. As a matter of fact, I have made it my goal to enroll in school this fall, finish my Associate's degree, obtain my Bachelors, and possibly even attend Grad school... all on the government's dime. The system is flawed and I will find the loopholes, jump through the hoops, lie, cheat and steal (okay, maybe not steal or kill - wait, did I even say kill?) to get Uncle Sam to bow down to me for once! I want revenge!!! (And a fancy piece of paper that declares my smartness.)

Speaking of evil empires and corrupt systems (namely judicial)...

So, after trying to coerce the government into buying me lunch meat and milk, I went back home for a short nap and to grab my things, then hit the road. My destination: Cook County District Courthouse #3, Rolling Meadows, Illinois. I had a 3PM meeting with my Court Operator* Iris Martinez. (*It's what her card says, but in regular talk, a probation officer for misdemeanors, and also a very nice lady.) I left Champaign with three and a half hours to arrive on time. Things were going very smoothly until I reached the 'burbs. They must have known I was coming: traffic jam on I-80. Thankfully, my friend Ben sent me an alternate route and I was on my way.

I arrived at the courthouse a few minutes late, but I called Ms. Martinez, and she was cool with my tardiness. (I know what you're thinking, a cool, non-postal worker, government employee!? But they do exist.) Things went smoothly, until she tried to seduce me, but I straightened her out, and was on my way to my Ma's house in B-town for a home cooked meal. My favorite too, Salmon!

Ate dinner, chatted it up a bit Mom, and headed back to good ol' Rolling Meadows for my Victim Impact Panel thingy (another requirement of my DUI).**

So, I'm driving along 290 West, headed towards the Kirchoff exit and I notice that traffic is getting backed up. In an effort to not be late to another court-ordered bull shit mess, I decide to take the Kirchoff exit, as opposed to the Euclid, which I otherwise have always taken. (If you're not from the suburbs or city, you're probably getting lost here - stick with it.)

Suddenly I realize that my seatbelt is not on. Nothing new, I have been really bad about seatbelt use of late. However, I decide to buckle up, thinking in the back of my mind shit, what if I get in an accident without it on? Sure enough, I'm headed down Euclid, approaching the light at Rhowling....

Light turns yellow...

I panic (thanks a lot photo-enforced camera red light ticket thingys!)...

I brake
I look in the rearview
I see a big SUV coming at me...
Let off the brake, attempt to speed up-

BAM!

My small little VW Golf just got sent at least 50 yards, across the intersection, passed oncoming traffic, in rush our traffic...

I'm bouncing back and forth, without enough time to even panic, when suddenly the car comes to a halt, I fly forward, backward, and repeat, finally slowing my small, thin frame enough to see my sunroof collide with my windshield and glass fly everywhere.

I see smoke, or what I think is smoke coming from the back of the car. I try to exit - no luck. I reach for the passenger door and escape, dazed and confused, in the middle of traffic.

My first instinct is to see if the guy in the SUV is okay. He's on the phone in his undamaged Chevy Trailblazer.

The next few minutes are a blur, bit finally the cops showed up and ticketed the dude, had my car towed, as I walked across the street and waited for a ride.

I missed my victim impact panel. But I'm okay.

Lesson learned: Don't drink and drive. If I had never gotten the initial DUI, I would not be in this situation.

Thanks, Karma.

**For more information on my DUI, please see past entries.

I hate everything my life has become OR I'm at the bottom looking up

I should be in bed right now, sleeping. I worked until 2AM this morning and am scheduled to be back at work at 9AM. I'm pretty sure that is against the law, but right now, beggars can't be choosers. Besides, it's only a three hour shift, before I hit the road for Rolling Meadows. Appointment with my P.O. (not really a P.O. but a)I don't know her real title and b) it sounds way more badass. Anyhow, I can't sleep so I might as well write, right?

My life has almost never been in my own control. It's had it's moments, but ultimately, I have just been along for the ride, taking the good with the bad.

Currently, it's a dichotomous mix. I am underemployed in a terrible job market. I am barely making ends meet. I am missing so many people, so many relationships I fucked over. (Specifically one.) But at the same time, I'm optimistic about the future. I am willing to start anew, and taking any and every opportunity that comes my way. A few have... mostly the ones that don't pay much, but a couple that could lead to better things...

Problem is, I don't have time to waste. Maybe that is why I can't sleep: I'm too worried that when I wake up, I'll be back where I started- an underemployed, lifeless version of the me that "could have been."

I just need a little help. Well, maybe more than a little, but not that much. I just need a few good words of wisdom, inspiration and hope. A few dollars. A few leads. A positive attitude, and the courage to stand up for myself, be confident and make some good decisions - not just one or two, but like five or six, consecutive good decisions that would send me down the right path.

Ok, so maybe I am asking for A LOT of help.

Anyhow, that's my peace for the night.

Night, all!