London Bridge Has Fallen Down

I have a thing for rotting infrastructure. At some point, someone built something and with that came some sort of hope. And then, through escalating apathy, the hope died off, which manifests itself first through abandonment and then through rotting. It's a sad thing to see hope's entire timeline. It's also quite fascinating.

As I was on my way to Virginia's oceanfront the other day, I saw a fleeting snapshot of an abandoned park by the expressway. I took note of what exits it sat between and resolved to come back to see if it had a story to tell. After two days of bike riding, trail exploring, beach sitting, and sunbathing, I got incredibly bored - doesn't help that a tropical storm is making its appearance today - and decided to make my way to this abandoned park.

As I drove, I felt myself being pulled to it. It reminded me of something. Perhaps I had been there before when I was really little, when we used to come down to my grandparents' house on 71st Street. When I got there, I missed the left turn on what was now London Bridge Road and had to go down another light to take a u-turn. Just like everyone else who passes this place, I didn't see it and had to make conscious actions to get to it.

As I approached, I noticed that the street sign was yellow and read "Commerce Drive". The fading, rotting wood sign read "London Bridge Commerce Park". I turned in and parked as close as I could, as there was a closed metal gate blocking me from the majority of the parking lot. After I parked, I apprehensively walked through the metal gate and saw a short, stocky bald man with his short, stocky yellow lab. "He's like the Walmart greeter!" he exclaimed, as the dog gleefully jogged up to me and started with the requisite sniffing.

The man and his dog went back to their car - the only other car there besides mine  - and left. I was all alone, despite the plethora of cars zooming past on London Bridge Road and the Virginia Beach Expressway. It's the kind of place where you wouldn't be at all surprised if you stumbled across a dead body. It was littered with signs proclaiming "No Dumping" and "No Trespassing".

I started snapping photos of the bombed-out picnic pavilions and overgrown parking lots. I even found what I thought was an old pool, but from all the undergrowth, it was hard to tell. After the umpteenth "No Trespassing" sign, I decided to change tack and explore in the direction of my car. Beyond that, the spookiness of the place started to get to me and I really didn't feel like finding something I wasn't supposed to see.

I left feeling very satisfied that I visited this place. Virginia Beach, like pretty much everywhere else in the US, has undergone dramatic development over the past thirty years. What passed as satisfactory back in the 80's has been deemed not good enough by today's society and the urge to tear down and rebuild triumphs more often than not. But, this park is like a time capsule, and in-your-face example of what used to be considered "OK", taunting passers-by as they rush to the new "normal".

I'm not a betting man, but if I had to, I would put my money on this place being cleared for more mix-used residential-commercial space by the time I come back. And that is a shame.

Ode to US-460

Gonna cruise on down 460.
Gonna get a haircut in a trailer.
And continue on through the fields and the pines.

Gonna buy me some peanuts.
And while I'm at it, some hog jowels.
As I continue down this very straight, flat road.

Gonna go to Tucker's Swamp Baptist Church.
To do me some prayin'.
And then maybe go visit a prison or two.

Gonna fill up my car at Southern States.
With ethanol-free gas.
And 5 more miles to 13 58.

Gonna stay on this road.
This 460.
Until the New South greets me again.

Awakening

Let me preface this by saying that I know how cliched it is to link "spring" and "awakening". But, like all cliches, it wouldn't be cliched if there weren't some sort of truth to it.

March, in most years, is when winter finally yields to its inevitable demise. This year, in particular, those of us in the Northeast welcome this demise. After two months of weekly snowstorms and temperatures consistently below freezing, I can finally wear my fleece and not succumb to hypothermia. The rains last night and the warmer temperatures cause the melting snow to secrete patches of fog that glowed orange in the early morning sun this morning. The woods sing with the dripping from branches and finally the birds are back. No more silent mornings broken by the occasional train horn.

Like a bear, in March I wake up. I start to smell things again; to see things; to feel things. I get filled with positivity and purpose. It also doesn't hurt that my birthday is the 18th and, as I have gotten older, I have found that my birthdays signify a new year as much as January 1 or Rosh Hashanah.

I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.

Happy spring.

MSL

Our Calling

This morning, as I was waiting for my car to be serviced, an older gentleman struck up a conversation with me regarding the magazine I was reading. He said he reads the same magazine and from there we found out we are both the father of twins, which gave us plenty to talk about.

In the course of the conversation, he divulged he is a retired Episcopal minister and asked me what I did for work. "Uhh...well, let me just say it's product marketing at Thomson Reuters." He wasn't satisfied by that answer: "What kind of products?", "Who do you have to work with?", "Do you meet regularly with other individuals or do you call meetings as you go?"

It was nice because it gave me the chance to articulate what I do. I also conveyed to him that I like the results-driven culture and the flexibility it gives me. That said, I continued, I like that I have a place to go for work and the separation between my work and home lives the workplace gives me. I believe that working from home regularly is insidious in that it blurs the line between work life and home life.

"It's funny you mention that," he responded, "because, as ministers, we're like the old family doctor in that we're on call for our parishioners 24/7. And so, the place where we draw the line between work life and the everything-else is always blurred."

"Well, I'm glad that I'm not important enough and what I do isn't important enough to require me to available like that," I said.

"Oh no," he said, "don't say that. What you do is your calling. I was called to do what I do and you were called to do what you do. In that sense, what I do is no more important than what you do and vice-versa. The President of the United States is no more important than the carpenter. They were both called to do what they do."

We continued to chat until he was called to the service desk. His statement that this is my calling initially made me feel validated - validation is always nice! - but when I thought more about it, I began to wonder: is this job truly my "calling"? Does it compensate me fairly? Yes. As aforementioned, am I validated by my boss and my colleagues? Yes. Do I generally enjoy what I do and, dare I ask, actually have fun from time to time? Yes. But, do I see myself doing this forever? Do I see this role evolving into something that is going to continually challenge me? Do I see this role making me an expert in something and someone people defer to? Do I see this role developing, sharpening, and honing skills? These are all questions I need to ask and answer for myself before I consider this my calling.

Of course, a job is just a job. The questions to which I answered "yes" above are just as important as the questions to which I don't have an answer. And just like the perfect house, the perfect job is most often elusive. We compromise with ourselves on what's more important and go for those criteria. And just like a house from which you can move, you can always switch jobs. So, I guess what I'm saying is the calling is more than the job. Does the job fulfill enough of the criteria that you need to heed your calling?

Personally, I don't know what my calling is. It's something I'm still listening for. But, there are a million quotes out there about how the journey is or teaches you about the destination.

MSL

What I Want; What I Need

I have always had a hard time differentiating my wants from my needs. For me, they are often one in the same. It's not like this is exactly harmless. I am a father of three; should my wants or needs ever come before those of my children? Well, is my airway constricted? No? Then, no.

I don't know why I have this problem. I'm an educated, successful, grown-ass man. Yet, too often I let my id take over, like I am a child. I want pizza for lunch; I need pizza for lunch. I want to smoke; I need to smoke. I don't want to help out around the house tonight; I don't need...you get the idea.

It is a matter of self-control. I am not ignorant to the fact that I was raised without any. So, as an adult, I am learning how to have self-control. It sounds crazy, I know. But, from my perspective, denying myself anything seems like a baffling ordeal.

Ironically, this lack of self-control comes from the fact that I have always been deprived of some very fundamental things. Having my wants met is a matter of survival. I have been given a surplus of wrong things, and been denied some right things. I'm not making excuses. I am accepting it so that I can step around it.

How am I doing this? Mindfulness. I'm not going to provide a traditional description of mindfulness. You can look that up yourself. But, for me, it's the practice of stepping outside of yourself and trying as hard as you can to make an objective evaluation of your current state. It's a powerful arrow in your quiver. And it's also really fucking hard to master. But, like that one shot out of ten that gets you on the green, when you get a taste of it, it'll keep you coming back.

I am at that point where I am getting tastes with an occasional spoonful. I am starting to be able to evaluate the status quo and starting to be able to take ownership of the things that work and things that don't.

How am I doing it? Meditation helps. But, with a wandering mind it's really hard - and not to mention boring - to pay attention to nothing but my breathing for 10 minutes. I have found that the biggest obstacle to mindfulness is an inability to accept who you are and what you bring to the table.

I used to think I was a useless piece of shit who brought nothing to the table. Weirdly, I also had delusions of grandeur, with the accompanying sense of entitlement, at some points. This is no longer the case. I know that I am a good person who does good things, but I am also only one person. I have learned the dangers of isolation and learned how sad it makes me to live life by myself. I have learned that I have many people who love me unconditionally and some who don't and that life is better spent with the former group.

This isn't all I've learned, as some of it I can't articulate. But, it's enough for me to wake up every morning and smile. Knowing you have what you need is a powerful thing.

The 4 Train

The next stop is: Brooklyn Bridge/City Hall. Please stand clear of the closing doors. BING BOONG!

Crowded but not bad. I don't need music today. I don't get service between City Hall and 14th Street, anyway, so I would only get, what, one song? It's fine. Hmmm...this is moving pretty well for Fulton Street to City Hall. I might get to Grand Central early. I guess I can go to the bathroom and get some hand sanitizer, maybe I'll...

This is: Brooklyn Bridge/City Hall. Ladies and gentlemen, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the train.

Hmmm...doesn't look like too many people are waiting. Slowing... stopping... Oh...hmmm...a lot of people are are waiting to get on my car. Eh, no problem. Train is moving. So it's a little crowded.

The next stop is 14th Street/Union Square. Please stand clear of the closing doors. BING BOONG!

BOOM! What the fuck, bitch? I know it's crowded, but common courtesy, please! Look at you with your thick-rimmed glasses, flannel-ish shirt, stylish skirt, and ankle boots. Dressed up, self-impressed hipster. Eye roll. Anyway. I hope the train still rolls.

Canal Street.

Spring Street.

Stop.

No problem. I can go to the bathroom on the train they have hand sanitizer. 

"Eguirhfhfgjhgpfdfghghfgjf...SOIGOTTHECHARGEDISMISSED!..djfcksahdjfhsafhskljdfhskldfhs."

God, motor mouth, shut the fuck up. Oh, it's that hipster bitch. Go figure, she's a lawyer. 

"Ehfdfgklhkldkfjsklfdjsjfs...ICAN'TCUZIHAVEANAFFIDAVITTHATDAY!..sdfkhcniwehiujrncsl."

We get it. You're busy. You're a lawyer. You have a boyfriend who is much more attractive than you. Now, please, shut the fuck up. Oh good, we're moving.

Bleeker Street.

Astor Place.

Crawl.

This is: 14th Street/Union Square. Ladies and gentlemen, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the train.

They're probably getting off. She seems like the kind of person who lives around Union Square. God, there are a lot of people waiting to get on this train. I hope a lot of people get off.

The next stop is 42nd Street/Grand Central. Please stand clear of the closing doors. BING BOONG!

Shit, net zero. SHIT! Motor mouth and her boyfriend are still here. SHIT! I just got pushed right next to them. God, how does this guy tolerate such a wound-up, type-A bitch? He probably keeps on kissing on her to shut her the fuck up. 

"Ghuefhrklifdskhdeiurnd...YOUWANNAJUSTSWITCHTOTHE6ATGRANDCENTRAL!..siddjkhfvoe."

FUCK. They're getting off with me. She's the type of person who will just ram through me again to get off, despite the fact I'm getting off. Well, no way. I will win. I will get off first.

Ahh, we're moving. Brace yourself, boy. It's almost go-time. It's like "Saving Private Ryan" and you're cruising to the beach somewhere between 23rd and 28th Streets.

28th Street.

33rd Street.

Crawl.

Stop.

Crawl.

This is: 42nd Street/Grand Central. Ladies and gentlemen, please be careful of the gap between the platform and the train.

"Pardon! PARDON! Excuse me!" I plead, as the bullets rain down on me. The voice, that grating, galloping voice, fades out. I let out a heavy, exulted exhale and climbed the stairs. Move. MOVE! Jesus, tourons. 

"You look familiar."

"Yes, Matt LePage and you're but not anymore."

"Yes! Wow. Yeah, I'm getting married in June. How are you?"

"Good, you?"

"I'm well. Where are you commuting from?"

"Wilton."

"Oh, great! My brother lives in Weston, so I'm familiar."

"Yeah, Weston's a great town. OK, so, I have a train to catch."

"Yes, please catch your train."

"OK, bye."

Ugh, not even a "Good seeing you" or "I'm sorry, but I have to run" or "Let's grab a coffee and catch up"? What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell does she think is wrong with me? I have 15 minutes. I have plenty of time. I could crawl, still make the train, and have a seat, to boot. Did this wretchedly self-absorbed conversation have such an effect on me that I am still carrying it and just can't tolerate people in general for a certain grace period? Ugh, I'm gonna message her on Facebook.

Moral of the story: keep going to psychotherapy and ALWAYS listen to music on the subway.

Choosing to Let Go

"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life..."

I love this quote from the movie "American Beauty" said by Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey). In case you haven't seen it - if you haven't, I suggest you should - the movie centers around Lester and his quest to take his life back from who he perceives as the toxic people around him - his wife, his daughter, his boss, the company he works for.

This movie is one of my all time favorites and has always resonated with me, despite Lester's and my struggles being very different. I actually struggle with anxiety and depression which manifest as a vacillation between emotional paralysis, self-destructive behavior, and intense episodes of self-loathing and self-doubt. Phew, that felt good.

At baseline, my happiness level is much lower than most people's. I have people and things who make me happier: my wife, my kids, my work. Recognizing this, I have spent the past few years actively pursuing happiness; what I perceive to be this paradigm of contentment which has always seemed to elude me.

I read self-improvement articles constantly. I have explored Buddhism and all all sorts of "isms". But, I can never seem to even partially grasp anything I read or explore. That spikes my depression and anxiety and I end up worse than how I started. It's maddening and infuriating.

When it's bad, it's bad. I feel like a punching bag and my mind is getting a good workout on me. It doesn't stop and no matter how hard I try, I can't turn it off. It was one such acute episode of this last year which convinced me I needed help.

I got on meds and recently started going to psychotherapy. While it's helping, I'm still far from well. I know this is a long-term journey that, graphically, when it's all said and done, would have an upward trend. That said, even upward trends have deviations from the norm, some of those total anomalies. Last night, arriving home late from an intensely frustrating Board of Ed meeting, which followed my Ground Zero experience yesterday afternoon, my mind started spiraling out of control. I was emptying the dishwasher and started getting really freaked out that I still had all this stuff to do, despite it being so late, and I was obsessing over what exactly I was going to eat today. 

"I need to have vegetables with my lunch. But, I don't want vegetables. God, you're so fucking pathetic. If you don't want to be fat anymore, eat better. Jesus, why can't you do that? Why don't you have any self-control? And stop checking Facebook at work. Successful people don't do that. You want to be successful, right? Do you think Steve Jobs spent as much time as you do futzing around? No, the articles say work straight for 90 minutes and then take a 20 minute break. You probably won't do that. You'll just end up checking Facebook or Twitter. Just do better."

Imagine not being able to turn this off. Imagine knowing this is bullshit. That you are smart and accomplished. That you're working for a reputable company that is a world standard for media and information workflows and that you've been asked to join them in an effort to change the paradigm of not only the way they do business, but how the industry does business. You want it to stop. You tell it to stop, both audibly and inaudibly. But, it doesn't. It just keeps digging and scraping. It reminds me of MG-42 machine gun fire you take in Call of Duty.

While this isn't my daily experience, it happens enough for me to know I am not well. I know it has triggers (see above). I know I can be mindful of those triggers and talk them out with my therapist or R. (Thank you, sweetie, for talking me down last night) R made a good point: I know I'm not happy and I think I know what I need to be happy, so I chase this magic pill - figuratively - that will POOF! make it all better.

One of the things I read that always made me more depressed and now just makes me roll my eyes is that we can be happy simply if we choose to be happy. That might work for some, but for me, and at the risk of speaking out of turn on behalf of other depressed people, we simply cannot do that. We literally have a chemical imbalance in our brains that precludes our being happy at the drop of a hat. It's not an excuse. It's science. 

That said, we can make the choice to work to become happy. We can see a psychiatrist and/or a psychotherapist. We can work through our issues, getting down to the most fundamental feelings we have, we can work on getting around them, or we can simply just talk. Even just talking to someone objective who you know will not judge you helps. 

One of the things R imparted on me last night is that I should just let it go. Not necessarily push it away or just stand back and let it buck and kick unbridled in my mind. But, to hone in on it with someone who's not experiencing it and highlight what's really behind it. In my case, it was some stress I have been carrying for the past week, my experience at Ground Zero yesterday, and finally the agonizingly late meeting. As an analytical person, this type of root cause analysis was just what I needed. And it enabled me to let it go.

While I will still meditate, be mindful, and reflect on how I can do better - as a husband, father, employee - I am going to stop reading the self-help poppycock out there. While it might work for some, it doesn't work for me and causes me to set unrealistic expectations that don't help me and that I never realize. I have realized that when I focus on the WHY, the HOW is a lot less daunting.

Be well.