The Mediocre Baseball Analogy.
Rummaging. Rummaging rummaging rummaging rummaging rummaging rummaging rummaging. Rummaging is similar to snooping around in someone's personal belongings, except it sounds so much less malicious when you call it 'rummaging' and not 'snooping.' I was rummaging through my old journal entries on Tensaiji, untrust, and this account. Over time I got away from personal accounts for the most part and I resorted to being informative and offering perspective. That is good sometimes, but there is a certain human, vulnerable characteristic about personal blogging that I like. I've withheld personal accounts for various reasons - but mostly because I felt imparting personal information would be a burden or the truth just scared the living shit out of me.
Herein, because it feels good for the moment, I'll make a personal blog.
I will be glad when certain things are over. EMT school; my final court hearing for the divorce; my mother leaving Greg. I like EMT school and learning, but not being able to have time to run or work a second job is an inconvenience. I look forward to working for a private ambulance service and determining whether my erection for EMS is merely a fairweather reaction to the information in EMT class or if I really do enjoy EMS - although for certain philosophical and personal reasons I believe I truly have a passion for it. My final court hearing is tomorrow at 9:30 AM. It will be nice to finalize the divorce, and I am grateful that it is something Lesley and I both want at this point. My mom has asked that I don't answer the phone if my stepdad (Greg) calls me. She has also asked that if he comes to the station while I am on duty and asks me where she is living, that I reply by stating that she is living with Chris and I temporarily. This is a lie. I hate being a pivot for any of this. I try not to think about the fact that I love Greg, past differences aside.
In the next week I begin ambulance clinicals. At minimum I need 24 hours of ride time, 4-5 successful IVs, and a few other interventions documented. Like a girly-man, I worry about my ineptitude in the back of an ambulance. This worry is born out of unfamiliarity with the layout of the back of the ambulance, as well as doing procedures in the real world; not poking a synthetic human arm with an IV needle, because synthetic arms don't flinch and plastic veins don't roll.
The past two months have been dedicated to extensive inner restructuring. When I was younger and I imagined myself at age 24, I never really suspected that I would not be able to identify myself. 24 sounds mature and resolute and concrete. For me, it is not so. I love the foundation of myself and I've lucked out in terms of raw materials but I stay in my head too often to get out of my own goddamn way. One revelation I have had (and this really applies to dealing with women), is that it is not WHAT I say, but HOW I say it and how my body language conveys it. This comes full circle when I apply this logic to the actions of others. Instead of analyzing the content of words, it seems more accurate to identify what emotion people convey their statements with. This has been a true work in progress for me, an overly cerebral individual.
Being right is a disease that plagued me for a while. Rarely is it truly important to be right. When there is a disagreement between two people, most of the time there is a common goal that both would like to achieve. I can apply this best to a relationship. When lovers argue intensely, feelings are hurt, staticky thoughts are conveyed and die in the air, and if it is bad enough, there is a period of silence, and hopefully later, there is reconciliation. Through it all, the two want nothing more than to be content with one another, but because both people find it imperative to be right, they continue arguing. It is unfortunate when two lovers argue over right and wrong and it proves to be their demise, but I suppose Darwinism can apply to relationships as well.
And now for my humble analogy: In the great, big game of baseball that is life, we're all switch hitters. From the right side we bat with apathy and it yields a consistent batting average, and this in turn leads to very little risk or scrutiny. From the left side we bat with passion and produce awe-inspiring home runs and triples. Swinging in passion and with all that we have, we sometimes miss. This does draw scrutiny. Us, being our greatest critics, feel condemned and defeated for a certain amount of time, and regress to batting on the apathetic side of the plate again.
The reason I dislike political campaigns now is because of the impassioned high hopes and 100% energy carried into the campaign. They're batting from the left side. In the end, there will only be one candidate elected, and the rest who constructed elaborate dreams and visions strike out, regardless of how much batting practice they put in. Seeing man defeated is one of the greater portrayals of despair that I have seen.
Admittedly, I'm on the right side of the plate for now. I embrace the time when I can stick my neck out again, go for the big swing, and aim for the bleachers. It'll happen eventually.
We all dig in and take our stance, eventually.
Herein, because it feels good for the moment, I'll make a personal blog.
I will be glad when certain things are over. EMT school; my final court hearing for the divorce; my mother leaving Greg. I like EMT school and learning, but not being able to have time to run or work a second job is an inconvenience. I look forward to working for a private ambulance service and determining whether my erection for EMS is merely a fairweather reaction to the information in EMT class or if I really do enjoy EMS - although for certain philosophical and personal reasons I believe I truly have a passion for it. My final court hearing is tomorrow at 9:30 AM. It will be nice to finalize the divorce, and I am grateful that it is something Lesley and I both want at this point. My mom has asked that I don't answer the phone if my stepdad (Greg) calls me. She has also asked that if he comes to the station while I am on duty and asks me where she is living, that I reply by stating that she is living with Chris and I temporarily. This is a lie. I hate being a pivot for any of this. I try not to think about the fact that I love Greg, past differences aside.
In the next week I begin ambulance clinicals. At minimum I need 24 hours of ride time, 4-5 successful IVs, and a few other interventions documented. Like a girly-man, I worry about my ineptitude in the back of an ambulance. This worry is born out of unfamiliarity with the layout of the back of the ambulance, as well as doing procedures in the real world; not poking a synthetic human arm with an IV needle, because synthetic arms don't flinch and plastic veins don't roll.
The past two months have been dedicated to extensive inner restructuring. When I was younger and I imagined myself at age 24, I never really suspected that I would not be able to identify myself. 24 sounds mature and resolute and concrete. For me, it is not so. I love the foundation of myself and I've lucked out in terms of raw materials but I stay in my head too often to get out of my own goddamn way. One revelation I have had (and this really applies to dealing with women), is that it is not WHAT I say, but HOW I say it and how my body language conveys it. This comes full circle when I apply this logic to the actions of others. Instead of analyzing the content of words, it seems more accurate to identify what emotion people convey their statements with. This has been a true work in progress for me, an overly cerebral individual.
Being right is a disease that plagued me for a while. Rarely is it truly important to be right. When there is a disagreement between two people, most of the time there is a common goal that both would like to achieve. I can apply this best to a relationship. When lovers argue intensely, feelings are hurt, staticky thoughts are conveyed and die in the air, and if it is bad enough, there is a period of silence, and hopefully later, there is reconciliation. Through it all, the two want nothing more than to be content with one another, but because both people find it imperative to be right, they continue arguing. It is unfortunate when two lovers argue over right and wrong and it proves to be their demise, but I suppose Darwinism can apply to relationships as well.
And now for my humble analogy: In the great, big game of baseball that is life, we're all switch hitters. From the right side we bat with apathy and it yields a consistent batting average, and this in turn leads to very little risk or scrutiny. From the left side we bat with passion and produce awe-inspiring home runs and triples. Swinging in passion and with all that we have, we sometimes miss. This does draw scrutiny. Us, being our greatest critics, feel condemned and defeated for a certain amount of time, and regress to batting on the apathetic side of the plate again.
The reason I dislike political campaigns now is because of the impassioned high hopes and 100% energy carried into the campaign. They're batting from the left side. In the end, there will only be one candidate elected, and the rest who constructed elaborate dreams and visions strike out, regardless of how much batting practice they put in. Seeing man defeated is one of the greater portrayals of despair that I have seen.
Admittedly, I'm on the right side of the plate for now. I embrace the time when I can stick my neck out again, go for the big swing, and aim for the bleachers. It'll happen eventually.
We all dig in and take our stance, eventually.