Category: personal

Baseball & more

Would you believe that I took even more pictures? Believe it. These are from Thursday, 4/15. Tim and I went to Sapporo East for sushi, then I let him talk me into heading over to City Island for the Harrisburg Senators’ opening night. They won, something like 8-4, and I hear it was a good game. I was too busy taking pictures and watching the people around me to notice. I promise if I ever go back I’ll take notes so I can tell you all about it.

Anyway, after the game, Tim and I headed downtown to Scott’s to hang out with the folks from Poetry Thursday (see the link in the previous post). We had a good time there, before ending the evening at the old standard, Shady’s.

There are lots of pictures here. I don’t want to add captions for all of them right now, and I absolutely never will for the baseball pictures. As a result, even I think most of these are boring. But since I took them, I feel obligated to put them up, and since I put them up, you should feel obligated to look at them. Especially admire the many faces of Dan Chiavaroli. He’s my new favorite dwarf.

Wrong side of the sunrise

It is just after 4 AM. I think I am going to go to bed soon, but I feel like there is something urgent lurking under the fog of my exhaustion and although I think it is unlikely that I will be able to get it out, I am pushing myself to stay awake for as long as possible in the hope that it will break through.

The last time I went to sleep was at 9 AM on Monday morning, after staying awake through all of Sunday night. I can’t remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter, but this time it felt good. Just after 6 o’clock, it occurred to me that the sun was going to rise soon, so I drove to Goldsboro as fast as I could and sat on the riverbank as the sun ascended past the horizon. Unfortunately, in my sleep deprived state I had neglected to consider the cloud cover, and while there was a small band of sky that turned a lovely pink color, the sunrise itself was less than satisfying.

Additionally, I’d forgotten how loud the morning can be. I savor the night for its quiet, and I tend to think of the early morning in the same way. While it was free of human noise, though, the cacophony of the birds this morning was enough that I had a feeling similar to that of being at a concert or a loud bar, when the volume is so great and the quality so discordant that it permeates your brain, destroying the capacity for coherent thought. This was no gentle chirping, but a full on aural assault.

To maintain the peaceful center I’d achieved during my night of solitude and had hoped to enhance through communion with nature, I focused instead on the soft and placid steam rising slowly, almost meditatively, from the TMI towers. I let it carry me up, sometimes curling around the flared edges of the concrete walls before fading into the less graceful clouds that covered the sky.

I noted once, in high school, that from certain angles, the TMI clouds were obtrusive enough to block the sunrise from view. I resented them for it. This morning, I was grateful for their calming presence.

Deliberate Living

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about deliberate living — about making conscious decisions about what I want my life to be and being aware of how my actions fit with that image in every moment. I’m very aware that I spend much of my time living inattentively at best, but to live more deliberately requires not only a nearly constant concerted effort, but also an awareness of what I want out of my life to a degree that I don’t currently have. Now that I’m unemployed I have, at least in theory, more decisions to make about how I spend my time than I have had in a long time, and it’s becoming increasingly important to me to get as much life as possible out of each second of the day. Sometimes that means just closing my eyes and enjoying the stillness or even playing a game of computer solitaire, but more it sinks in that I don’t have to get in my car and go to work, the less interested I am in doing nothing. This has me thinking about what I do want to do with my time, not only on a moment-to-moment basis, but also in terms of the larger things I want to do with my life and the kind of person I want to be.

Coincidentally, I recently stumbled upon 2dobeforeidie.com, a site encouraging people to make lists of 100 things they’d like to do before they die. It’s not a new idea, certainly there are many “inspirational” stories about people making this kind of conscious decision to do something fun or interesting in their life and then going to incredible lengths to make it happen, but it is one that appeals to me. I’m trying to make a list, but coming up with 100 things is hard. It means thinking in both very narrow and very broad scopes about what I want out of life, but it’s still a small enough number that I think I’m going to have to make some hard decisions as to what makes the list and what doesn’t.

I’m far from done, but here are some samples:

Take a road trip with no time constraints or monetary limitations
Find my soulmate
Get a book of poetry published
Eat pasta in Italy
Watch the sun set over the Pacific
Watch the sun set over the Atlantic
Learn to keep things clean
Document my family history
Develop a coherent political philosophy
Develop a coherent spiritual philosophy
Watch the sun rise over the Atlantic
Watch the sun rise over the Pacific

Eventually I’m going to add another page with the complete list, and update it as I complete things. I’d also love to hear about what other people would put on their lists.

New Poetry

As the title of this post would imply, I’ve updated the poetry section. Some of them are new, some of them are old. What they all have in common is that I read them last night at The Alley. They’re even in the order in which I read them.

As a side note, the reading last night went very well. Snow surprised me by having Sara Bozich come in to introduce me, which was very cool. Sara and I were very close in high school as we were both discovering a love for writing. While I cringe to think about some of the things I wrote back then, having friends who shared my passion was important (as, of course, it still is) and passing notes full of poetry back and forth throughout the day did a lot to keep me sane.

Maybe a year or two before Sara and I were passing notes in German class, the father of a friend of mine brought home a box of chapbooks by a co-worker of his named Gene Hosey. It was just starting to occur to me that maybe I thought poets were kinda cool when I saw that box, and though I don’t think I ever did read the chapbook, it was my first introduction to the idea that there were some of these kinda-cool-poet-folks in a world at least adjacent to mine, if not actually in my world. Last night was the first time I saw Gene read at any length and he very much reinforced this crazy idea I have that poets are pretty okay. His work is sharp, funny, human, and crazy. I spoke with him a bit last night, and my impression is that he is much like his poetry. It was an honor to be featured with him.

Self-promotion

Poetry at The Alley

I probably should have mentioned this earlier but, well, I didn’t.

I’m going to be a co-feature at Poetry at The Alley this coming Saturday, along with Harrisburg’s first Poet Laureate, Gene Hosey.

It’s a good venue and we’re going to have lots of fun, so come join us! If you’d like more info, send me an email or follow the above link and call the restaurant itself.

Sinking In

I am sitting in an empty office at work. My manager just left the building for the last time. Most of the other members of my department have been gone for days, along with nearly all of the 400 employees who have filled this huge space for the last four years.

On Tuesday night I took the last call to come into the Harrisburg call center. We thought all the queues were turned off, but as we stared at the still monitors, a straggler came through, which had to be answered. It had been six months since I spoke to a customer, but it felt good to do it one last time, even if was just for a minute before I transferred him to an outsource agent somewhere in Asia.

I told a friend this morning that it hadn’t sunk in yet. I had thought that it would on Wednesday, as most people departed for the last time; or maybe on Wednesday night at the bar where everyone celebrated both St Patrick’s Day and their liberation. When I didn’t feel it then, I thought it would happen this morning when I pulled into a vacant parking lot and made my way through an empty building — but it didn’t. I gave up, and told my friend that I didn’t think it would happen until I left for the last time, or maybe not even until a few days after that.

It happened just now, as my boss smiled and walked out the door. I’ll be back next week, to help facilities and IS with anything I can before we permanently vacate, but seeing the last of my department leave means that my job as I knew it is gone, in a far more real way than it was even half an hour ago.

I’m going to say goodbye to a few remaining people, log off this computer once and for all, then swallow the lump in my throat and go home. I’ll be back, for a few more days anyway, but the chapter is already closed.

Bush in the ‘burg

As things wind down at EarthLink, I find myself with a decreased workload and facing hours of nothing to entertain me but an internet connection. Over the last weeks I have read countless articles about all the presidential candidates, included President Bush, in an effort to fill the time. In theory, the Republican view is a better fit for me than that of the Democrats, although both are far from my ideal, but I frequently find myself worried or even alarmed by things I read about the current administration.

I know that the media is hardly a trustworthy source of news since everyone has a bias and an agenda, but lacking the time and resources to actually go out and experience every event myself, it’s all I’ve got. When I find something of interest, I try to read about it in as many publications I can, in an attempt to distill the truth from the bias. Sometimes this is hard — sites like Reason or Salon often write about subjects rarely mentioned in the mainstream press — but when I find Pat Buchanan and the ACLU in agreement, I take notice.

In this case the issue is the Bush administration’s practice of separating supporters and protesters at presidential (and vice-presidential) appearances, usually moving the protesters out of the view of both the president and the cameras. While I understand the need for security, it’s not an argument that can be used in this situation since a terrorist or would-be assassin could simply carry a pro-Bush sign, or no sign at all, to gain closer access. In fact, nothing I have read presents a plausible justification for such separation, but instead everything I have read points to a clear violation of the First Amendment. When I learned that President Bush was going to be speaking at Central Dauphin High School, in my district, I immediately wanted to be there.

I’m not sure that we were wrong to go to war (WMD or not); I’m not sure we should repeal the tax cuts (I’d rather we cut services); I think No Child Left Behind is a joke (but government funding won’t change that); and I don’t know enough about Bush’s environmental policy to have an opinion. But I felt like I had to take advantage of an opportunity to see first hand whether or not they set up a so-called “Free Speech Zone” and, if they did, I had to say something about it.

I made a sign saying “America is a Free Speech Zone” and by 9:15 this morning, Tim Hill and I were at Houcks & Locust, along with, at that point, a dozen or so other protesters. There were no supporters there yet, so it was impossible to see if they were being treated differently when the State Troopers began putting up police tape. The crowd grew as Bush’s arrival drew nearer, reaching well over a hundred people, into the “hundreds” according to WGAL. The messages were what one would expect, “No Blood for Oil,” “These colors don’t run the world,” “War is NOT the answer,” demands for funding for NCLB, criticism of Bush’s military service and alcohol use, as well as support for other Democratic candidates, especially Dean and Kucinich.

Bush never saw the messages though, as his motorcade did not come down Locust but instead wound back through the residential neighborhood and into the back entrance of CD on Houcks Road. We caught a glimpse of his limo, as it turned into the school, before disappearing behind a wall of strategically parked buses.

With only a few dozen Bush supporters visibly self-separated from the protesters, I was curious after Bush arrived to find out if there had been a larger gathering of supporters with a better vantage point, unadvertised and possibly unavailable to the anti-Bushites in the crowd. Tim and I walked all through the neighborhood, guessing at and tracing the president’s route as closely as the abundant law enforcement would allow. We found nothing but a pro-Bush resident and his three beautiful dogs waiting on his lawn for the motorcade’s exit. We considered waiting with him, or at least nearby, but opted to keep walking as many of the neighboring houses featured American flags or Bush/Cheney posters and, as Tim had acquired an anti-war poster listing the names of Americans killed and Iraq next to the statement, “They DIED for your sins, Mr. Bush”, the idea of being confronted by angry Republicans was not appealing to either of us.

Even scarier, though, was the moment when I paused next to a church to wait for Timmy to catch up and looked across the street to see three men with guns standing on the school’s roof, one of them watching me through his binoculars. I smiled and waved, but even knowing that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, the knowledge that they were watching because they viewed me as a possible threat, as well as of what they would do if they thought, even for a moment, that I was a real threat, made my heart pound until we had crossed onto the next street, out of sight of the school.

After we verified, at least to our satisfaction, that while the authorities were keeping people largely away from the route, they weren’t discriminating on the basis of message, so we headed back to the main protest area to listen to a Fundamentalist Christian and his wife yell insults about the Roman Catholic Church and the rest of us sinners as well. This was probably the highlight of my day as I watched Americans vigorously engaged in exercising their right to free speech, fanatical and crazy as they might be.

It was cold, though, and I was relieved when people started leaving the school, signaling the end of Bush’s speech. Tim noticed a gathering of people at the other end of the block, so he and I stood at the front of a small pro-Bush crowd on the corner of Rutherford & Locust, holding our signs as the president passed, waving from his limousine. Timmy flicked him off, but I’m not sure anyone noticed.

We returned to the main protest area while news crews asked final questions and people waved their signs at the traffic that had resumed on Locust until someone decided it was time for us to go and four mounted officers rode into the crowd, yelling at us to leave. Tensions rose for a moment as people got angry and scared, but everyone seemed to soon realize that this wasn’t the fight they were looking for but it sure seemed to be the fight the officers were looking for, so the crowd dispersed. I thought for a moment about raising my voice but we were, at that point, in the church parking lot rather than on a public sidewalk, and with disappointment I realized that this wasn’t my fight either.

I had no fight today, and though I was a bit excited about the possibility of standing up for a firm belief in such a way, I was glad that there was no Free Speech Zone and that today, at least, Americans were not being stopped from expressing their views. I hope that continues to be true at every political event I ever attend — the day it isn’t is the day it will be my fight. In the meantime, I’ll exercise my right to express my opinion whenever I can, and hope that those who are fighting the battle in the courts will win.