Wednesday, September 29 2010
2:14pm
“You Learn Something New Everyday”
If you can open yourself up to them, life is filled to the brim with lessons. Sometimes I’m floored by the interesting places and moments you can learn something about the way life works or how you interact with the people around you, and sometimes it makes me want to break things because I’d like to believe at some point that I can look out and say, “Ok. I get it.”
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that life is this ball of mystery that we all just stare longingly at, waiting for answers. I’m just saying that if you keep your eyes peeled, there’s a lot out there to take in…so you have to be ready for it. Never be too old to learn something new or see something in a different light.
For instance, the art of Parkour (a.k.a. FreeRunning) is not for me. I have maintained a very happy and cast-free existence for most of my life. I’ve broken 2 bones, and they were both in my face. Being my size, I actually pride myself on how graceful I can be from time to time. But, every now and then, that sentiment goes to my head and I decide that I too would like to have been in the opening sequence of “Casino Royale” chasing down a freerunning terrorist. As I was explaining this to some friends walking into a parking ramp I ran and jumped on the ramp wall, then to a pillar, then went to jump down to a sitting position and wave.
My butt landed perfectly to cushion my jump, but as I went to arrogantly wave to my clapping friends, I remembered something that I learned years ago: I also have a giant head. Giant, heavy things tend to keep their momentum much like throwing a bowling ball and not releasing your fingers. Ass-over-tea kettle I went over the wall, did a complete flip, and slapped the ground as hard as I could with my body.
“Ouch. Wow. Ok. Quick pat down. No blood? That’s good. Teeth are all here. Also good. Hmm…foot hurts, but I can move it. Why is my watch in the bicep of my sleeve?”
Bruised foot and broken favorite watch, but alive. Lesson learned.
I’ve also learned to stop and take in the beauty around me. I know, I know it sounds cliché, but any of you out there that actually know me know that I tend to sprint past a lot of amazing things just to get to that set of shiny, jingly keys at the end of the block. Since I’ve been here in La Crosse, I’ve been trying to appreciate it all; the old architecture, the amazing autumn weather, and the chance to take it all in because my phone isn’t ringing off the hook every day. Of course there are a few people that I’m a bit hurt haven’t even called to see how I’m doing, but by and large it’s been great have it as quiet as it’s been.
I can go on walks and not have to turn my phone off.
I can leave it on at night and not worry about being woken up in the middle of the night.
I can go on a date without getting a barrage of work ca…oh wait, no, I can’t.
I almost made it, but the powers that be weren’t ready to let my lucky streak go that far. I met an amazing woman here by the name of Meesh, and we were chatting about where in LaX I can go to find some tasty foods. I’m used to my Minnie (and the retard lil’ bro Pauly) and its myriad restaurants, and the foodie in me is acting like the trophy wife going to a cabin for the first time.
“We have to eat WHERE? But I wanted BONE MARROW!”
*Lesson just learned as I typed that: my inner-foodie is a bitchy, middle-aged woman, apparently. Would’ve thought it looked more like Andrew Zimmern. Hmph.
Anyway, I inquired about sushi, as my cravings were becoming almost unbearable. She responded that she also craved sushi, and we figured out that our day off lined up for that Thursday. We called it a date, and I marveled at how long it had been since I was on a legit, proper date that wasn’t with a friend I’d known forever. Picked her up looking fantastic (her, not me) and we rolled to the spot.
(side note: what is it about asian restaurants that makes the owners decorate them in 1987’s finest pastel neons, lacquer and gold decore, and horrible, horrible wallpaper? I felt like the movie “Rush Hour 2” and a set from “Scarecrow and Mrs. King” had sex, and left the offspring in LaX to fend for itself)
(Side-er note: I’m really happy I just got to make a “Scarecrow and Mrs. King reference)
Food was great, company was better than great, and we decided to see a movie. I couldn’t believe how excited I still was, not working, getting to know a fantastic new person, and about to see an awesome movie…
Bzzzzzz…bzzzzzz….
Dammit. Vibrate. But wait, it’s her phone!! Ha! For once I’m not the asshole! Take that, XM! Then she showed me what the text said…
“Hey, can you have Ben call Dave ASAP? It’s an emergency.”
Fuck me. Really? I’m a half an hour into a thriller? Fine. I once again have to do the “Look, I’m really sorry, it’s work. I have to make this call.” How many times have I said that? And, even worse, to how many people? How many of those amazing moments have I missed because I was returning a call for work, trying oh-so-desperately to fix whatever was broken remotely so that I wouldn’t have to leave whatever it was I was doing.
So I somberly trudged back into the movie theater to say, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with the sound system. I need to be there to fix it.” She smiled, said it was ok, and off to the car we went. Sigh.
There are a lot of lessons I learned that night. Patience is a virtue, but can be run out of town in a night if you lean to heavily on it. Sometimes, even when you think you’re happy, you discover new layers of smiles and laughs just getting to know someone new. For a guy with no formal sound, wiring, or computer training, I’m pretty decent with all three. She looks amazing in the color red. I could go on and on, but I digress…
The biggest lesson is that after a little more than 5 weeks, I really feel like me again. Work is great, the staff is amazing, I have a sushi copilot that doesn’t resent me for answering a work call during a movie, my apartment looks like a home now (especially now that I’ve cooked a few meals in it!), and we’re putting a bid on a hot tub for our deck in. That’s not a lie. A hot tub, jerks.
Wanna come stay??
Talk at ya soon,
BQ
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Week 4 of 52 in the rebuilding of Ben Quam
Saturday, September 18th 2010
"The La Crosse Chapter begins"
I got keys to my apartment today. Brought my clothes over and planned out my room layout a bit, unpacked my cleaning/bathroom stuff, and just sat down for a second. It is an absolutely HUGE place, and it's got the "dark, old wood with hardwood floors" feel from every corner. But as I sat there thinking about the meals I'm going to cook and the memories I'm going to make, I couldn't help but feel lonely.
It's not that I miss XM. As I said in the last blog, I finally broke through and realized that it wasn't HER that I missed, it was having someone there. I lost my partner, and then moved to a city here I know 2 people, one of whom is my roommate. I know I'll meet plenty of new friends, but I'm a kid who thrives on instant gratification. I want them all...NOW.
It is odd how tearing most of your comfort zones away manifests itself. I was in Madison on business for the night on Wednesday, and when I got back to the hotel I turnd on the TV and read for awhile. Then, without realizing what I was doing, I got up and grabbed the blankets off the queen-size bed and curled up on the couch. I'm in a hotel with a plush, pillow-topped, queen-sized bed...and I'm laying on the couch like this isn't weird.
I'm not sure what that means, but it's the 3rd time I've caught myself doing it. Do I not deserve a bed? Is it too big for just me? Once I realize it, I crawl back into the bed every time and sleep wonderfully. The subconscious mind plays some fun little tricks from time to time.
I think that's been the hardest (and hopefully last) pill to swallow in all of this. Looking in the mirror and realizing all the things that you shushed away, the cracks in the wall you just painted over, the things you know are killing you/your relationship that you just walk past like each of them are a panhandler looking for change. All of these red flags pop up, and you make up an excuse for each and every one. Getting left that high and dry is hard, but that ship was sinking...I was just too busy playing violin on the ship deck to care.
I will never stop looking in the mirror and keeping myself honest from here on out. I'm an unabashed romantic and a relentless dreamer, but I need to keep a few toes on the ground if I want to make my 30s into what my 20s probably should've been.
So, time to turn the page.
Our bar opened last night. In a town where functional alcoholism reigns supreme, our open bar crowd from 7-9 was rather sparse. We all started getting tense. Then, the 9-11 $2 drink crowd didn't really show. I started getting mad at my DJ equipment, the band started getting nervous, and my bosses started getting heated. This is my 15th bar opening, it always happens like this, but I always forget that. I start questioning if I know what I'm doing, second-guessing why I'm here...and then hear myself saying all that and laugh. I know what the fuck I'm doing. WE know what we're doing.
Bring it, LAX.
The band and I agreed that we'd just rock it like we do, and see what happens. A Jameson cheers and some profanity with smiles were exchanged, and away we went. And it happened. The entire city cleared out of the other 141 bars and came to see us. Singing along, hell yeahs, fuck yeahs, and socials. Success. Now to do it again tonight...
I've been really selfish for the last few months, and that sucks. I'm in a new city with a lot more time on my hands, and I'm realizing how awesome all of you out there are. Last Saturday I got one of the nicest compliments I've ever gotten from an old friend, and I was amazed how long a few simple words can help a bruised heart and an ailing ego. So, I'll try not to make it weird, but I'm really going to try to tell you all how awesome you are, one by one. Daunting, but compliments are fun. Yay.
Mad, LAX love,
BQ
"The La Crosse Chapter begins"
I got keys to my apartment today. Brought my clothes over and planned out my room layout a bit, unpacked my cleaning/bathroom stuff, and just sat down for a second. It is an absolutely HUGE place, and it's got the "dark, old wood with hardwood floors" feel from every corner. But as I sat there thinking about the meals I'm going to cook and the memories I'm going to make, I couldn't help but feel lonely.
It's not that I miss XM. As I said in the last blog, I finally broke through and realized that it wasn't HER that I missed, it was having someone there. I lost my partner, and then moved to a city here I know 2 people, one of whom is my roommate. I know I'll meet plenty of new friends, but I'm a kid who thrives on instant gratification. I want them all...NOW.
It is odd how tearing most of your comfort zones away manifests itself. I was in Madison on business for the night on Wednesday, and when I got back to the hotel I turnd on the TV and read for awhile. Then, without realizing what I was doing, I got up and grabbed the blankets off the queen-size bed and curled up on the couch. I'm in a hotel with a plush, pillow-topped, queen-sized bed...and I'm laying on the couch like this isn't weird.
I'm not sure what that means, but it's the 3rd time I've caught myself doing it. Do I not deserve a bed? Is it too big for just me? Once I realize it, I crawl back into the bed every time and sleep wonderfully. The subconscious mind plays some fun little tricks from time to time.
I think that's been the hardest (and hopefully last) pill to swallow in all of this. Looking in the mirror and realizing all the things that you shushed away, the cracks in the wall you just painted over, the things you know are killing you/your relationship that you just walk past like each of them are a panhandler looking for change. All of these red flags pop up, and you make up an excuse for each and every one. Getting left that high and dry is hard, but that ship was sinking...I was just too busy playing violin on the ship deck to care.
I will never stop looking in the mirror and keeping myself honest from here on out. I'm an unabashed romantic and a relentless dreamer, but I need to keep a few toes on the ground if I want to make my 30s into what my 20s probably should've been.
So, time to turn the page.
Our bar opened last night. In a town where functional alcoholism reigns supreme, our open bar crowd from 7-9 was rather sparse. We all started getting tense. Then, the 9-11 $2 drink crowd didn't really show. I started getting mad at my DJ equipment, the band started getting nervous, and my bosses started getting heated. This is my 15th bar opening, it always happens like this, but I always forget that. I start questioning if I know what I'm doing, second-guessing why I'm here...and then hear myself saying all that and laugh. I know what the fuck I'm doing. WE know what we're doing.
Bring it, LAX.
The band and I agreed that we'd just rock it like we do, and see what happens. A Jameson cheers and some profanity with smiles were exchanged, and away we went. And it happened. The entire city cleared out of the other 141 bars and came to see us. Singing along, hell yeahs, fuck yeahs, and socials. Success. Now to do it again tonight...
I've been really selfish for the last few months, and that sucks. I'm in a new city with a lot more time on my hands, and I'm realizing how awesome all of you out there are. Last Saturday I got one of the nicest compliments I've ever gotten from an old friend, and I was amazed how long a few simple words can help a bruised heart and an ailing ego. So, I'll try not to make it weird, but I'm really going to try to tell you all how awesome you are, one by one. Daunting, but compliments are fun. Yay.
Mad, LAX love,
BQ
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Week 3 of 52 in the rebuilding of Ben Quam
1:42pm
Wednesday, September 8 2010
"When it rains it pours."
There's a moment that all addiction speciaists talk about, a moment that until hit makes it very hard for an addict to clean him or herself up. They refer to that moment as "rock bottom." I thankfully have not had to go through any addiction counseling, but I realized the term itself applies to many other facets in life.
I stayed up way too late on Sunday night talking with a friend about how hard breakups are and how awful this world can be. Not the best way to fall asleep, as thoughts like that tend to slip their greazy little fingers into your subconscious and color your dreams with their ink blots.
I dreamed that I was sitting in rush hour traffic, and my nose began bleeding in the car. At first I wiped it away with my hand, but more and more blood kept flowing. I started grabbing papers and garbage from the back seat to try and contain the spurts, and my heart began racing. Not knowing what to do, I threw the car in park and got out yelling, "Someone please help me!" but everyone looked at me like I was a freshly-bitten zombie. My heart was beating faster and faster...and then just stopped. Everything went silent. No engine idling, no honking, not even wind. Just silence. I was at peace for a moment, until I looked down at my hands to see even more blood. I began to faint, and then woke up.
This is not a good way to wake up. Ever.
I streched and shook it off a little, and remembered how excited I was the day before about going to the Twins game with my good friend Jaren. I grabbed my cellphone off the charger and noticed 5 missed texts and 3 missed calls. Holy crap, I overslept for a game at 1:05pm. Ugh. I called Jaren to apologize, and thankfully he was forgiving. We decided to meet up after the game and have a beer.
I went to grab some food, and recieved another text. What I read stole my breath from my lungs. A guy that I walked home with every day from Jr. High had passed away. Damn, that is sad. Another great sense of humor gone from this unfunny world. As I sat there thinking of his family, I got another text. All I saw as the adrenaline from shock hit were "liver faliure," "If I drink again I'll die," "23rd floor of the Hyatt with a bottle of this and a bottle of that." Quick phone call, and then 3 hours of the oddest conversation I've had in a hotel room. Love him like a brother, worry about him like an older brother.
I would've stayed there all night but a fantay draft was drawing near, and I needed laughs in a feverish way. Jokes were made, beers were had, and things were settling into a decent end to a shitty movie. Until I got the next lovely bit of info that absolutely crushed me. I was informed by a guy I'd never met that my wife is already dating someone else.
No no no no no. My stuff is still in the house. I'm not even gone yet. She hasn't filed papers. This cannot be. Please let this not be.
I faked it for the rest of the night, thinking that if I just didn't acknowledge it, it would go away. But it didn't. It festered and boiled and ate away at the inside of my stomach until I thought I had an ulcer.
So I drove home. It was the quietest drive I've ever taken. I just kept shaking my head. No.
I walked in the door, no dog to be found. That means she's staying somewhere else. This has happened a lot lately. No.
Poured a helluva drink.
Stared at it.
Stared at it again.
Brought it to the bedroom.
Stared at it some more.
And then, as the realization that not only were we not going to get back together, but that she already moved on and had a whole new life ready and waiting all this time, and that it's with the ONE GUY I'd always been afraid of this happening with, the same guy who 3 weeks ago said,
"Hey man, I'm so sorry to hear about you guys. Just know that I had nothing to do with this, because my wife cheated on me and I could never do that to anyone, much less you."
And I started shaking. Not trembling mind you, actually shaking. But in that moment, in the dark and alone and shaking uncontrollably, I had an epiphany:
I had finally hit an emotional rock bottom. Physical manifesation of a mental emotion. After this day, and all it dumped on me, I actually cannot hurt anymore. I'm finally through the flames of the heart into this weird, purgatory-esque numb. My friend, coworker, and confidant called me to see if I could watch her oldest son while she went to the hospital to see her younger one, and I just said "no." No guilt, just numb. I couldn't do any more emotions.
I poured the drink out, and took a shower. Then I went to bed.
I had a dream again, this time standing in front of a mirror in a dingy bathroom and only wearing a tank top. I had a cleaver in my left hand, brought it to my right bicep, and turned it on the bone in a full circle. It didn't hurt, and it didn't bleed. I poked around with my finger, and the inside of my flesh just looked like ahi tuna soaked in day-old grenadine. Sticky and wet, but not bleeding or hurting at all. Then I simply looked in te mirror and smiled.
I woke up in the morning, talked to XM and she confirmed the news that she was in fact dating, packed up my car with my first load to La Crosse, and left.
I don't know if this numb feeling is where a healthy mind/heart/soul is supposed to be when going down this path, but I don't know if I have a healthy any one of those. All I know is that I slept 8 hours last night, and I didn't dream once. I'm going to come back to the cities this weekend for a my last night DJing at Bootleggers, and my goodbye party on Sunday the 12th.
I know this isn't really filled with any light or hope, but this is no sitcom. This is life, and rarely do things that are this hard fix themselves that fast. I'm not angry anymore, because it doesn't matter. Being mad will only hurt me, because she doesn't care about my feelings at all. The last thing I said to her was, "Be happy," and I meant it. Two miserable people in this world does no one anywhere any good.
So now starts the La Crosse chapter. Our apartment is available on the 19th, so then for the first time since August 1st I'll have an actual home. I need that. The feeling of being unwanted and homeless combined can wreak havok on the spirit of a man.
But the bathrooms here smell like gummi worms, so at least I have that.
With love and a crooked smile,
BQ
Wednesday, September 8 2010
"When it rains it pours."
There's a moment that all addiction speciaists talk about, a moment that until hit makes it very hard for an addict to clean him or herself up. They refer to that moment as "rock bottom." I thankfully have not had to go through any addiction counseling, but I realized the term itself applies to many other facets in life.
I stayed up way too late on Sunday night talking with a friend about how hard breakups are and how awful this world can be. Not the best way to fall asleep, as thoughts like that tend to slip their greazy little fingers into your subconscious and color your dreams with their ink blots.
I dreamed that I was sitting in rush hour traffic, and my nose began bleeding in the car. At first I wiped it away with my hand, but more and more blood kept flowing. I started grabbing papers and garbage from the back seat to try and contain the spurts, and my heart began racing. Not knowing what to do, I threw the car in park and got out yelling, "Someone please help me!" but everyone looked at me like I was a freshly-bitten zombie. My heart was beating faster and faster...and then just stopped. Everything went silent. No engine idling, no honking, not even wind. Just silence. I was at peace for a moment, until I looked down at my hands to see even more blood. I began to faint, and then woke up.
This is not a good way to wake up. Ever.
I streched and shook it off a little, and remembered how excited I was the day before about going to the Twins game with my good friend Jaren. I grabbed my cellphone off the charger and noticed 5 missed texts and 3 missed calls. Holy crap, I overslept for a game at 1:05pm. Ugh. I called Jaren to apologize, and thankfully he was forgiving. We decided to meet up after the game and have a beer.
I went to grab some food, and recieved another text. What I read stole my breath from my lungs. A guy that I walked home with every day from Jr. High had passed away. Damn, that is sad. Another great sense of humor gone from this unfunny world. As I sat there thinking of his family, I got another text. All I saw as the adrenaline from shock hit were "liver faliure," "If I drink again I'll die," "23rd floor of the Hyatt with a bottle of this and a bottle of that." Quick phone call, and then 3 hours of the oddest conversation I've had in a hotel room. Love him like a brother, worry about him like an older brother.
I would've stayed there all night but a fantay draft was drawing near, and I needed laughs in a feverish way. Jokes were made, beers were had, and things were settling into a decent end to a shitty movie. Until I got the next lovely bit of info that absolutely crushed me. I was informed by a guy I'd never met that my wife is already dating someone else.
No no no no no. My stuff is still in the house. I'm not even gone yet. She hasn't filed papers. This cannot be. Please let this not be.
I faked it for the rest of the night, thinking that if I just didn't acknowledge it, it would go away. But it didn't. It festered and boiled and ate away at the inside of my stomach until I thought I had an ulcer.
So I drove home. It was the quietest drive I've ever taken. I just kept shaking my head. No.
I walked in the door, no dog to be found. That means she's staying somewhere else. This has happened a lot lately. No.
Poured a helluva drink.
Stared at it.
Stared at it again.
Brought it to the bedroom.
Stared at it some more.
And then, as the realization that not only were we not going to get back together, but that she already moved on and had a whole new life ready and waiting all this time, and that it's with the ONE GUY I'd always been afraid of this happening with, the same guy who 3 weeks ago said,
"Hey man, I'm so sorry to hear about you guys. Just know that I had nothing to do with this, because my wife cheated on me and I could never do that to anyone, much less you."
And I started shaking. Not trembling mind you, actually shaking. But in that moment, in the dark and alone and shaking uncontrollably, I had an epiphany:
I had finally hit an emotional rock bottom. Physical manifesation of a mental emotion. After this day, and all it dumped on me, I actually cannot hurt anymore. I'm finally through the flames of the heart into this weird, purgatory-esque numb. My friend, coworker, and confidant called me to see if I could watch her oldest son while she went to the hospital to see her younger one, and I just said "no." No guilt, just numb. I couldn't do any more emotions.
I poured the drink out, and took a shower. Then I went to bed.
I had a dream again, this time standing in front of a mirror in a dingy bathroom and only wearing a tank top. I had a cleaver in my left hand, brought it to my right bicep, and turned it on the bone in a full circle. It didn't hurt, and it didn't bleed. I poked around with my finger, and the inside of my flesh just looked like ahi tuna soaked in day-old grenadine. Sticky and wet, but not bleeding or hurting at all. Then I simply looked in te mirror and smiled.
I woke up in the morning, talked to XM and she confirmed the news that she was in fact dating, packed up my car with my first load to La Crosse, and left.
I don't know if this numb feeling is where a healthy mind/heart/soul is supposed to be when going down this path, but I don't know if I have a healthy any one of those. All I know is that I slept 8 hours last night, and I didn't dream once. I'm going to come back to the cities this weekend for a my last night DJing at Bootleggers, and my goodbye party on Sunday the 12th.
I know this isn't really filled with any light or hope, but this is no sitcom. This is life, and rarely do things that are this hard fix themselves that fast. I'm not angry anymore, because it doesn't matter. Being mad will only hurt me, because she doesn't care about my feelings at all. The last thing I said to her was, "Be happy," and I meant it. Two miserable people in this world does no one anywhere any good.
So now starts the La Crosse chapter. Our apartment is available on the 19th, so then for the first time since August 1st I'll have an actual home. I need that. The feeling of being unwanted and homeless combined can wreak havok on the spirit of a man.
But the bathrooms here smell like gummi worms, so at least I have that.
With love and a crooked smile,
BQ
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