Life

ANNOUNCEMENT: We’re Moving! (again)

Well, we finally know. For over eight months now, I’ve been anticipating answers: Where will I go to school? Where will Megan and I spend the next two years of our lives? What kind of food will I be eating?

I found five schools that spoke to me. Five universities in five different regions of the country. Five different prices. All too expensive. Megan thought I was crazy. Not because of my chances, but because of the distance to which I was reaching, the scope of it all. Also, I give her plenty of reasons to think I’m crazy each day.

So, we waited. And waited. And I lost hope. I began to look at plan b’s and cower from fear. Months and months went by. More times then I care to admit, #thewaitinggame got the best of me.

Finally, the letters started coming; better yet, the financial aid letters started coming. Monday morning, my heart shat its pants with joy.

Upstate and Away!

I write this in California. I sit with coffee and think of my family and friends here. Once again, I will be leaving them. I think of our friends and Megan’s family, in Idaho, who once again we will leave.

With a heavy, yet joyous heart, we have decided to move away from everyone we know and love. About 2700 miles away. As I get older, these things get harder.

The decision is this: we are moving to Rochester, New York! I will study Entrepreneurship and Economics with (hopefully) a minor in Creative Writing at the University of Rochester!

Best yet, my educational costs are completely covered. I was awarded a crap-ton of grants and scholarships! Think, three Little Caesar franchises. We’ll have enough to cover tuition, and a little extra to move there and get settled.

At this moment, I feel completely and utterly loved.

3 Reflections on Reaching Your Goals

(From the perspective of a poor boy who was given nothing)

1. Write down your goals on a piece of paper. Look at them everyday. Many books will tell you to do this; I was always hesitant. Monday morning though, I was able to check off the first four goals on my list. The best of which was this: go to a top university with a full scholarship. No debt for education.

2. Take responsibility for yourself and your situation. I was born into a family that didn’t champion higher education, nor did it have the money to do so. There was no fund waiting for me. I truly believe that everyone gets their chance. You might have to work a little harder, or wait a little longer, but it will happen.

3. Enjoy your goals with a thankful and modest heart. When I got the news, I called just about called everyone. I tried for CNN, but couldn’t get through. Excited doesn’t even begin to explain. Later, I had to check my motives. It’s okay to brag a little, but be cautious. Stay humble and move forward. We are all in God’s grace, every day.

PS: I couldn’t have done this without my wonderful wife! She is the best and I don’t know what I’d do without her. Thank you Lord for putting her in my life.

Matlock, The Angel of Death

Since last week’s wetsuit incident, I’ve been thinking about my failing youth. A good friend once told me that getting old is a process of many realizations. The first and most important, is understanding that the world doesn’t revolve around you.

I would amend this statement by saying hurting your back is definitely the first sign.

Have you ever pulled a muscle in your back? Geez. It’s terrible. You have to buy heat/ice packs and think about what type of shoes you’re wearing.

Just put on Matlock already; I’m done. Count me out.

Getting Older

We were at a small group last night, and one of the couple’s kids starting spinning in the middle of the floor. He thought we were all there to watch him.

It made me think about my friend’s statement—the one at the top.

I used to be like that kid. Everybody used to be my audience and I’d always have the floor. What’s changed?

Is it my understanding of adult civility, a mellowing out of my extroverted nature, is it something else?

Getting old has it’s privileges. I’ve talked to many people about it. There was one lady I got to know at my old job in Idaho. She claimed she didn’t feel comfortable in her own skin until she turned 50.

That’s cool, I guess.

Wife Proverbs

Yesterday Megan and I walked to the end of the Avila Beach pier. As usual, I complained about everything. My back. How I couldn’t boogie board anymore. My world was over.

She said, “You know, the world doesn’t end just because you can’t do something.”

She was right, as usual. The world doesn’t revolve around me. I’m getting older.

I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it but enjoy the ride. Enjoy each day I have, hurt back or not.

Sometimes though, I’m selfish and I want to be young again. Not a teenager, not even 21. I want to be 6 or 7. I want to be back at that place; the place where I’m spinning in front of the room. Where everyone is looking at me. They didn’t come to see me, but now they are.

From the Avila Beach Pier

Would that be so bad?

As usual, I’d love to hear some feedback. Any advice on getting older? Any advice on pulled backs? A good Matlock episode?

Beach Body: The Boogie Back-Break Blues

The Pismo Beach Pier

Some of my favorite memories revolve around the ocean.

In high school days, my friend Tim would come over and wake me up at 6am or so. He’d pull me out of bed and we’d drive to Pismo Beach and hit the cold ocean waves.

I was a boogie boarder; surfing was too much of a commitment.

When Megan and I moved back to the area, I knew sooner or later I’d have to face Poseidon.

Beach Body

There are many beaches in San Luis Obispo County. Pismo is famous; Avila is second best and pretty good for boogie boarders. Grover has a lot of people, and Shell is just too rocky. There’s Oceano, but it’s choppy and nobody goes to Oceano.

The less people to embarrass myself in front of the better; I went to Oceano.

First, there is the issue of the wetsuit. If you’ve never put one on before, let me explain. It is the single most difficult thing you will ever do in your life. It’s like putting on someone’s skin who is two sizes smaller than you.

For shy kids like me, Oceano has bathroom stalls to change in. They’re tiny, lightless, and the locks are all broken. The door may or may not have swung wide open with the wetsuit stuck around my ankles.

Boogie Time

After taming the wetsuit for what seemed like an hour (think Tommy Boy in the airplane bathroom), I met my wife back at the car. “How’d it go?” she asked.

“I think hurt my back.” She laughed. “No seriously,” starting to stretch, “I think pulled a muscle.” She laughed louder. Somehow, yes, I managed to hurt my back while pulling on a wetsuit. A new low. I don’t want to talk about it.

“Well don’t go in the water,” she warned. “It’ll make it worse!” I looked over at the choppy blue surf. She had a point, but I was already here, and my wetsuit was on. It’s not like I’m getting it off anytime soon. If I didn’t do it now, I never would.

So I ran towards the shore. And I ran. With each step, the sand felt colder and the air tasted sweeter. I reached the waters; my feet burned from the cold, and seized my thoughts. Soon my waist was covered, then higher.

So cold. So cold. Don’t think about it.

I cursed myself, the waters that now held my life, Obama, anything I could think of. The first three minutes dragged; I needed to go numb.

Soon, my thoughts became verbal. I started yelling phrases that didn’t make sense. Fart Cough, poop magnet. Cold help Siren Tonk! AHHHHHHH!

A wave slapped my face, and a rush of memories came over my eyes.

the post beach, triumphant Kevin

I saw Tim; we laughed over waves and cursed the cold water together. I watched the sky, from years ago, turn to day as seals broke the surface of the water, right next to me. For an instant, I saw who I was five years ago.

I saw what was important, and what wasn’t.

Reality returned, and happiness came with it. For the first time in my life I was proud of where I came from. More importantly, I was happy with who I became. I was happy with what I’ve chosen to love.

My wife, our future, God’s plan, the ocean.

I caught my first wave. As it did so many years ago, everything made sense.

The Waiting Game #worstgameever

Get outta here. Just happen already. Let’s DO this.

Do you ever struggle with patience? I do. For many, patience is a virtue. For me, it just virtually sucks. I guess I’ve just never been very good at it.

A focus of mine, as a blogger, is to turn negative issues into positive.

I hope to leave my readers inspired and give them something tangible for their lives.

Spoiler alert: there is no lesson here, I’m just complaining. Leave while you can.

The Waiting Room of Life

Last September, I sent transfer applications to five universities all over the country. The schools span from Hawaii to New York. I thought, why not? With my wife, it’s our chance to roam.

The applications were finished. In the words I wrote, I staked my future. As an artist it was my heaviest project yet. It was the best epic I could muster.

In the end, these forms held my linguistic DNA. I put everything into them—everything but the impatient part, I guess. That was left with me to suffer, to yearn.

Narcissus & Goldmund

I’ve been reading Hermann Hesse lately, specifically the novel Narcissus and Goldmund. Last night, I came upon a passage I quite liked—a discussion between two artists.

Be patient! I’m well aware of what it is like to have completed a piece of work that was of great personal significance. I know that empty feeling. It will pass, believe me.

This soothed my soul. I’m not exactly sure why, I submitted college applications over six months ago. My problem is patience, not art. But still, as an artist, I never confronted the emptiness I was left with after submitting these papers.

Yet another reason to hate the waiting game.

I’d appreciate any good stories or tales of impatience. Can you relate? Help me out here!

[photo cred: http://www.flickr.com/photos/8398214@N05/3214687264/]

The Intern Whoop: Taking a Local Day Pt. 2

Last year, I discovered newness inside my town and wrote a blog detailing this adventure: Local businesses and new people; I got outside—it was great. Check out, “Taking a Local Day” HERE.

Part Duex

On the first of the year, my wife and I moved from snowy Coeur d’ Alene, Idaho to sunny San Luis Obispo, California. I grew up here in SLO county, well south county, I guess.

Despite my history here, everything seemed new; the mountains had never looked greener and skies had never been bluer. The local troves held new names and faces, while their sidewalks ferried fresh bodies to and fro.

We were in a land of newness and I was bound to explore it.

Then we got jobs. Well, I got an internship and she got a job.

Makin’ Copies

My internship so far has been ideal. There isn’t much grunt work, and I’m treated as an employee with as much to say as anyone else. Though yesterday, I made copies for five hours.

Five hours. I can still smell it. The copies.

In the middle of my copying madness, I was given a quick job to distribute a notice to all the local businesses in our strip regarding a meeting of some sort.

I welcomed the break.

Makin’ Discoveries

outside

There were twelve of these notices to hand out. I peeked outside, “there’s twelve shops here?”

For over two months I’ve worked here. Besides the coffee shop, I had no idea who my neighbors were.

“There’s twelve shops?” I repeated.

So once again, I ventured out; I took a local day. Shaking hands, I discovered business owners, employees and their products.

One shop offered full car-audio installation, with a contract for city police vehicles (two were inside). Another shop sold used baby clothes, and right next to it, golf gear. Further down, I met some kids working in a skateboarding warehouse who specialized in online sales; further down, there was a Muay Thai kick boxing ring.

Like us, they were all just trying to make their mark and tell their story. Before yesterday, they didn’t exist. At least not to me.

Reminded

It’s terrible, our bubbles. We hide inside and shut out the world—sometimes on purpose, most times unknowingly. Like a horse race, we focus on the goal and miss the uniqueness that surrounds it, even if the goal is just a parking spot.

Culture is a beautiful thing. Sometimes, embracing it is as simple as walking outside.

Any good stories of meeting your neighbors? What else can we do to break our daily routines? Are all routines bad? I’d love some feedback.

Internet Fasting: My Googless Week

Google is a lot like toilet paper: everyone uses it but no one admits it. Recently, I took a week off the internet empire. Here were the rules:

One week, no Google. Also, no Bing, Yahoo or other search engines. I did leave gmail accounts open for work and personal purposes. Maybe next time… Also worth noting, this was not a spiritual fast. One could claim, however, that I was searching… for myself… (GET IT?)

Dependency

Without Google image search, this was the best I could do.

googless.

I’m a big fan of the internet. Besides blogging, I really enjoy social media, online shopping, and of course, the ability to watch TV whenever and wherever I want. These benefits may seem juvenile, but in all sincerity they’ve reshaped millions of lives.

The average user spends most of their time on mediums that weren’t available just ten years ago. And knowledge, well, that has come a long way. Remember not knowing the answer to a question? Awkward.

Like a sovereign empire, Google rules the world wide web with an iron fist. The simple “search” has changed more than we ever imagined it could.

I am not here to attack the internet but—rather simply—contribute to the conversation of our internet dependency.

Here’s What I Noticed

It turns out, I’m not an expert on every topic ever. Once I removed my ability to acquire instant knowledge of everything through Google search, I was starkly reminded of the work required for real expertise.

I’m capable of finding the answer on my own. Earlier this week I wrote a blog about the book of Esther. Without Google, I dedicated ten minutes to rereading and searching my own sources for context questions. I am capable!

still googless.

I’m not a photographer. Every good blog needs a good picture. Without “Google image search” or any other picture service, I was reminded of real photography talent (unfortunately, I don’t have it). Also, I need to be better about photo cred.

Human dependency isn’t all that bad. This last week a customer asked about baritone ukuleles. Staring at a blank Google search, I almost caved in and faked some knowledge. Instead, I took a deep breathe and declared, “Ya know, I just… have no idea whatsoever.” Believe it or not, she actually understood. What I did do was direct her to a co-worker with expertise on the subject. Though not available at the time, she happily came back later.

It’ll be okay. With or without Google, it’s not the end of the world. I don’t want to rid myself entirely, but instead, set boundaries.

Fin

I hope something jumped out at you regarding my bullet points. Expecting a challenging week full of great stories to tell, I was instead left with a simpler message of patience and humility.

Would you be wiling to try it? Take a week off and let me know how it goes!

I’d also be interested hearing other takes on “internet dependency.” Have you had any experiences or viewpoints you’d care to share?

The Number Kevin

linguistic chaos from my niche world

Life