Archive for Change

Red Lodge

Hey all, I’m back! I had nothing last week because I couldn’t think of a funny way to report my slow decline into madness and despair. This week, I dunno. I’ll talk about Fruity Pebbles or something. I just had a bowl. The end.

Here’s a little bit of a bummer. Sunday, my family took an old family friend to Red Lodge. This family friend, Vera, was like a sister to my grandma. After my grandma passed, Vera decided there wasn’t anything keeping her in town, and is moving to Arizona to be around her kids. Understandable, but it made for a melancholy day. Probably the last time she’ll ever go to Red Lodge. She bought me a bag of candy. It was touching.

I don’t know. It’s got me thinking about my mortality again. There will be a time in my life when I go to Red Lodge for the last time. Will I know it? Has it already happened? Have I already eaten my last Walnetto? The last one at least is unlikely, because I just found them online. So that’s something.

Moh-Jiy-Toes

Lately I’ve been trying Mojitos. I say trying, because I’m learning that they are the Klimpaloon of the mixed drinks. Perfection is impossible, and anyone that’s told you they’ve seen a perfect one is a cartoon character. It’s not a perfect metaphor. I’m getting better at them. The trick is less rum than you’d think, more sugar than you’d think, and muddle everything.

Spring is almost done cooking, and the roasted heat of summer is starting to show. As of press time, I have two fans blowing on me to keep me cool. Albeit, I am a bit of a slavering meat beast with many sweat creases, but it is getting warmer out. I’m considering turning on the air conditioner, but am worried that in runs on pure green money. Sadly, I only have currency in the form of cardboard boxes and vague whispers of future favors.

It’s easy for me to give in to sloth this time of year. Looking for jobs has becomes more and more demoralizing the more I keep looking. I can see opening just outside of my driving radius. Well, not just outside, I’m not commuting to the Miles City every day. I’m considering Roundup. Add to that the time vacuum that is the Comedy Bang Bang podcast backlog, and watch my brain goo coagulate.

In fact, I have it on right now. I’m slowing down, and I can feel my brain

Cheers

Some days you get it right. Turns out that today, “right” meant having friends over, getting Chipotle, playing video games, and drinking Jagermeister out on the deck. Also, Captain Morgan Tattoo was in there somewhere.

I’m still new to this whole drinking thing. I stayed away from it during college, because no one seemed to do it in a way that wasn’t stupid, and I didn’t want to get sucked into that wormhole. I stayed away from it in grad school because it was a habit by then, and well, who had the time. Now that I own a home, though, and all the problem drinkers are now far, far away in bad decision land, I can comfortably give it a go.

It’s actually pretty empowering. I spent a lot of emotional energy over the years either afraid of the stuff or trying to compensate for the void tee-totaling leaves in adult social interaction. Drinking, and doing it responsibly, is a middle finger to every bro/drunk I’ve ever met, and has the added benefit of making it easier to blend in a crowd.

You should have heard Dan squeal when I told him I’d started drinking. Like, actually squeal, like a piglet in a room full of theremins.

Here are my rules for responsible drinking for adults. First, don’t drink and drive, dummy. To me, that means no driving after any drinking. Second, don’t drink to get drunk. Alcohol is not a coping skill, and using it that way is a highway to bad decision town. Third, no beer. I already don’t move enough. Add beer to that, and I’ll be shocking internet photo fat in no time.

Fourth, rum. That is all.

The Green Season

I’ve started fixing up the outside of the house. At least, the green things around the house. This is somewhat worrying, as most green things I own die instantly. I can’t even keep salad in my fridge. The second I put it the crisper drawer, it starts screaming and catches on fire.

I spent most of the day clearing out dead leaves and worrying about how much I will still have to do after that. See once upon a time, my grandma had flower gardens, ferns, bushes, shrubs, and lilacs, all perfectly managed in rows and allotments. Now, as it happens, I have all those things but with a bunch of weeds and dead grass on top.

A bit much for a guy who’s never cared for anything bigger than an office plant.

And the pool. That was a problem for years, back when nana was still around. It kept leaking, she said, and became too expensive to keep filling up. So she put a tarp over and left it for later; a philosophy I can generally get behind. In the intervening time, however, the tarp tore and the water left in the pool became black and, well, alive. I can see foul, lovecraftian things moving in that pool. I would try and get rid of them, but they’re probably so advanced by now they’d just rise to make war on the surface world.

I’m going to try to have a garage sale in a couple weeks. Which means braving the cat pee basement again. If I don’t write next week, it will be because I have died from the pee fumes. If that is the case, do not mourn for me. Just burn down this house like a funeral pyre; it’s safer that way. Preferably with as many ceremonial cats on top as you can find.

Also: reading.

Blerg?

Well, this is embarrassing. After all the hullabaloo I made about posting stuff, I almost shrugged off making a post today. The only thought I had this morning was a rather childlike “I don’t wanna.” It’s a thought I’ve been having a lot lately, between applications, doing my taxes, and slowly fixing up the house.

God, growing up sucks. You think it’s going to be all staying up late and bacon whenever you want it, but it turns out to be bills and the slow, inexorable hands of mortality and death haunting your every waking thought.

Am I right?

Though, I am feeling better day by day. I’m reading again, and it’s slowly bringing back the creative parts of me that got burnt out over the last six months. Hell, two days ago my friend Kevin and I tried to write a rock opera. We even made it through half a song, a cigar, and two whiskeys before we got bored.

So, slowly getting back to baseline. That’s the cool thing about us humans. Give us three weeks, and we can get used to just about anything.

-Austin

Oops-es and Updates

First of all, I owe the guys an apology. Last week I blamed them for my stuff, and they rightly took offense. I meant it to be a joke, sort of a “ha-ha, I’m blaming you for my actions” kind of thing, but it just came out dickish. For that I am sorry.

I may not have much of a sense of humor these days. Not that it excuses being a dick.

But things are looking up. I had a job interview last week. Tumbleweed, which is the kind of job I should have been looking for in the first place. So, fingers crossed.

 

Gettin’ Back on Track

Alright, seriously guys. You need to get back on the wagon, because now your laziness is affecting me. I’m skipping posts because I am infected with your lazy. Fix it.

See, I’m doing it. We can muddle through, even when we have nothing to write. Except I kind of do.

I’m looking for a job, at a snail’s pace. I should be going faster, given how much I need any kind of income right now. But I’m stuck. Resigning from that last job shook me more than I thought. Once the dreams about my grandma died down, the dreams about the ranch came back. Horrible dreams where I’m blamed for constant streams of failures I am powerless to prevent. Gee, I wonder where that comes from.

Shows how selfish I am, though. The second I get any kind of closure from the death of a loved one, I go right back to feeling sorry for myself. Not that I’m dealing with that one like a champion, either.

You ever feel like you need to vent, but you don’t know what or how? That’s where I am right now. Trying to piece together the last three months, while moving forward like a healthy human being.

 

Spring Cleaning

No more letters from my grandpa, sadly. At least, none that I can find. Starting a project and then procrastinating until you forget about it is timeless, I guess.

Something strange has been going on these last two weeks. I asked my friend Kevin to help me take a look at all the work that needed to be done getting my grandma’s house, and he in turn asked his mom to come, who has a lot of experience cleaning out old houses. For the last two weeks the whole Davis family has helped me pack, move, and clean a house that has not had a deep clean in years. they asked for nothing in return, and between them and me, we’ve probably logged over a hundred hours on that old house.

I mention this because I don’t understand. I’ve always heard about this kind of generosity, but I’ve never actually encountered it before. All these favors and time and they get nothing out of it?

Well that’s not entirely true. I did give them an old chair and a veg-o-matic. But that doesn’t really cut it, I think.

It’s been a formative experience. Instructive, too. You learn how to treat others from how they treat you. nine times out of ten, that leads to folks treating each other like garbage. this is the tenth time, the time a person can draw their ideals from. A shining example that becomes the basis of how I treat people from now on.

Which really just adds on to the list of favors I owe them.

The Sunny Side of the Street

I come to you, my blog viewership (hi mom) to tell you something. Something important, that I have been keeping to myself.

I’m happy.

Stop the presses, I know. But it needs saying. Not because this is a monumental moment, but because I have spent too much time feeling sorry for myself, when I am not in a “bad place.” I’m doing well with my job, with writing, and in my personal life.

This isn’t, to borrow from Austin, some “Pollyanna” optimism. This is hard fact. My life is coming together in some respects, and I am aware of my blind spots. I don’t have a perfect life, but I am beginning to see where I am more clearly. And that informs where I am going.

My acting class is amazing. I am learning more about myself and I am focusing on the craft of theatre in a way I never thought possible in school. I am so proud of the people I people I work with in class, and I love getting to share a stage with them. My teacher is master, and his guidance will shape the rest of my life.

My work as a writer is more motivated and focused. My acting class and blog work has me in a good place to write honestly and to explore the nature of things. I am drawn to the grandiose ideas I have always loved, and I am no longer intimidated to try and tackle them.

My time as a bartender is rewarding. As a skill, my bartending has come a very long way in a year. I am now sought after for it, and I am respected as a hard worker by multiple employers.

And through all this, my wife is a godsend. I mean that literally. Her presence elevates me as an artist and a person. I am kinder to strangers and strive to care about all those I encounter (even cabbies.) Having her in my life is the greatest joy and honor I have or will ever know.

Am I a professional “artist?” Not yet, but that dream seems less far fetched by the day. I have had projects fall through, and opportunities not work out. But the connections I am making and the work I am doing, are bringing me further along on the path I wish to walk.

I hope to keep you all informed as I become a better version of myself and a more fulfilled artist.

-DC

‘Till We Meet Again

Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for a couple weeks. Dan did it, then Clark did it, then I got infected by it. It’s no excuse, but it’s what I got.

To be fair, it’s been a rough couple weeks. Between the pity party I’ve been throwing myself and the moving into what was once my grandma’s house, I’ve been running on an emotional empty. A few friends have been helping me move stuff, though. It’s always powerful to see who comes through in a pinch.

My grandma is fading fast. Last time I saw her she tried to talk, but words wouldn’t come out. She still figured out how to say “I love you.”

While I was cleaning I found a gift she left for me. It was a necklace, with two pieces. A cross and a dog tag with the serenity prayer on it. on the back of the dog tag it reads: “Love you always. Till we meet again -Nana.” That was rough. It was also beautiful.

I don’t know if we will. Meet again, I mean. I don’t think I believe in that any more. But she believes in it. Maybe she can hope for the both of us. Maybe that’s enough.

-Austin