What I Learned From A Fungus

Here is, what is on the face of it, a rather unremarkable photo. The composition is mediocre, the exposure rather ordinary and the subject matter seemingly dull. Definitely not Instagram-worthy.

But look deeper. There's a story here. (Click to embiggen).

Once upon a time (because all good stories start that way) there was a tree,  standing tall, with bracket fungus happily (?) growing on the trunk. Being very strict, traditional polypores, they grew perpendicular to the trunk, parallel to the ground.

One day a mean, evil witch (...or a windstorm...or a guy with a chainsaw...) knocked the tree over. Now the pores containing the spores were sideways! How ever would they release their spores and spawn the next generation? Oh no!

Our hero (heroes?) the fungus didn't rail against a situation it couldn't control, didn't wallow in self pity, just shrugged their nonexistent shoulders and resumed growing, 90 degrees from the previous growth -once again parallel to the ground as is right and proper- and life went on.

Huh. Sometimes even a simple life form has more sense than I do.

Guilt and Gratitude

After the initial shock of the world turning upside down subsided, I saw a lot of potential in this period of imposed isolation.

At last I have time to do things I've not had time for, or have been putting off - both "non-fun" stuff like yard work and "fun" stuff like riding my bike. I see an opportunity to get a bit ahead on things I need to do, freeing me up for fun stuff later on when the weather improves.

I also see that it is a chance for me to think...and maybe learn a little. Being forced to slow down, and being unable to do some things might help me understand why I am so driven, all the time. "Why do I feel the need to multitask all the time?" "Why do I feel like everything I don't get done will come back to bite me in the ass later on"? "How much of it is 'real' and how much is self-created...maybe to bolster my own ego, inflate my sense of self-importance"? It's a rare chance for reflection and I'm trying to make the most of it.

I promised myself to get my camera out and go back to playing photographer - not because I fancy myself an artist, but because I use photography as a tool. It forces me to slow down and actually see what's around me, not just hurtle through the landscape blindly, locked inside my own head.

As you can see, I've also used this chance to sit down and start writing again - after a four year hiatus- not just because I finally got around to straightening out my password issues, but because it kind of helps me turn the noise in my head into a somewhat coherent form. That way, maybe if I write now, I won't be "writing" at 2AM.

....and all these things benefit me.

People are getting sick and dying. People are in tough financial straits. People are feeling the strain of enforced separation. People are living under a cloud of fear and uncertainty.

I have a job. I have insurance. I have my health. I have the means to keep myself fairly well isolated and lessen the odds of getting infested - a lot of people don't.

...and I'm looking at this as an opportunity?  What kind of self-centered son of a bitch am I?

I have been railing against the selfish people who clean the stores out of toilet paper and sanitizer because, well. "Hooray for me, screw the next guy..." I've been looking with disgust at businesses who profiteer and put money ahead of the well being of their employees. I have been thinking with loathing of politicians or those who would use this as a chance to do some shady shit, while everyone's attention is elsewhere,

...am I one of them? Am I that which I despise?

After a brief period of self-loathing*, I realized that the difference is that the good that I hope to get from this doesn't come at the expense of anyone else. The gains that I seek to wrest from this are in spite of the situation, not because of it. It's my way of giving a middle finger to a situation I cannot control. I can live with that.

If the "price" I have to pay is to be reminded and humbled about how goddamn lucky I am, I am more than ok with that. It's more than fair.



*My Catholic education never made it much past first grade, but apparently the "guilt" portion of the indoctrination "took".

Gender Blender

I don’t get it.

I have heard much about “non-binary gender”, “gender fluidity” and “gender dysphoria”. Each time I see or hear something about the subject, I try to understand it...and come up empty.

Now before you brand me as a hater, let me try to dispel that notion. I am willing to accept and respect anyone willing to grant me the same courtesy. For someone to live a lie, just because it’s what others expect of them, is a sin of the first order. I am a firm believer that people should be themselves, whoever that might be. The “problem” is not that people are this way, it’s my inability to relate - and I’m working on that.

I like seeing paradigms challenged. Any time my preconceived notions are questioned, I find it kind of refreshing to ask myself “...yeah, why is that?” More often than not the answer is “...well, I don’t know, you just do...” because there is no real reason! Doing something “just because we’ve always done it that way“ or “because everyone else does” is stupid.

For me, the first step toward understanding something new to me is to relate it to something I do understand. When I look at same-sex relationships, while I may not understand the attraction -in the same way I don’t understand how people can like chick peas - I do understand that it’s a relationship, with all that entails. “Oh, it’s a relationship! I know what those are! I’ve had them!” So for me the first step was to try and think of a time when I felt like maybe I was someone else or not a guy-type person...and I came up empty. My immediate, visceral response was “I am a man”. There was no ambiguity there.

I have never been one to subscribe to established gender roles. The idea that people are not allowed to (or are unable to) do something just because of their gender, is beyond stupid. The idea that somethings are “manly” and others are not is just plain dumb. I have often shook my head at the idea that because I am a male person, I’m supposed to like monster trucks and fishin’ and football...or whatever. I don’t, but it’s never made me question who I am. If that’s what “the rules” say I’m supposed to like and I don’t, then the rules are fucked up, not me!

Like Popeye, “I yam what I yam”, rules and labels and convention be damned.

...which is what I suppose someone of “non traditional” gender might be inclined to say.

Hmm....maybe I just learned something.

Social Distance...and Isolation.

I have heard many people bemoaning the lack of socialization during this period of forced separation. Many, many times, I have read of the mental toll solitary confinement can take on people. But...I don’t really get it. I understand how confinement could make me go stark raving mad - probably quicker than most - but as someone who needs and wants little social interaction I don’t really understand how lack thereof can take such a toll on people. So far, the only downside to this whole “social distancing” thing for me is that places I used to go for solitude are now...crowded and I dread the thought that my “secret places” are going to remain crowded after this all blows over. Now my “crack-of-dawn-to-avoid-the-idiots” grocery runs are not quite as placid and idiot-free as they once were. (Hopefully they’ll go back to the malls instead of the woods and take up sleeping in again, once this all blows over).

I don’t feel like I’m missing anything and I have to wonder “...why is that?” “...what does it say about me?” “...am I some sort of sociopath?” The logical place to look for answers seems to be the past - Where did it start and how did I get to where I am now? 

Growing up in a small town where I didn’t fit in probably had a lot to do with it. I realized fairly early on that I was never going to fit in, so there was no point in trying. I found that being “different” was acceptable but being “uncool” was a major, major sin to be avoided at all costs. Being different earned me a mostly undeserved reputation for being crazy, but it accorded me a degree of respect. The lesson I took from this is that, if you give people a few threads, they will spin an entire cloth of an image of you - and because they came up with it themselves, they believe it wholeheartedly. It’s better than anything you could come up with on your own. Still, maintaining the machinery that creates an image is taxing. When I was on my bike alone for hours, I didn’t have to keep up appearances, there was no one to judge me and I didn’t have to be on alert not to make any missteps. In addition to my bike freeing me from my mother and my small town, it freed me from having to manage the smoke and mirrors of the persona I created. I liked it. I had “guys I hung out with” but no real “friends”. Like Barf, I was my own best friend, and I was mostly ok with that.

As I got older, my social circle expanded. I had friends and did social things. I have to admit, I had a lot of fun. I even -gasp!- initiated get togethers and hosted parties! Still, I found it draining. After several hours at a party, I found myself just shutting down and needing to go off by myself. It felt like my batteries were depleted. Again, it seemed like I was maintaining an image and ever on my guard against being “uncool”. I realized how many little things I was doing - like making sure not to tell the same story twice, keeping track of what I had in common with which person so that I could direct the conversations in a “safe” direction, always wearing something that I had gotten since we had been together last (so that I knew I wasn’t wearing the same thing as last time)...and so on. I maintained a mental Rolodex (I’m too old for a database) of everyone’s likes and dislikes and acted accordingly. I kept a ready store of witty quips and quotes, just in case I needed them. If I was hosting, I depleted my emotional batteries making sure everyone was having the best time ever. That all has a mental and emotional cost, and at the end of the day, I was spent. Recharge and recovery was lengthy.

I have been a member of many groups and clubs and while it was fun sharing a common interest with folks, the inevitable eventual discord soured me on social groups. Someone always has to ruin it, so I mostly stopped getting involved.

I’ve always found interactions with coworkers to be taxing as well, but it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I was aware of just how much. One day, I realized I was unconsciously taking a mental inventory of what my coworkers were wearing. Every day. God knows I’m no fashionista, but I realized it was so I could tell, at a glimpse out of the corner of my eye who was approaching or in my immediate area. Apparently, without my even being aware of it, I had created an entire defense network. Since there were people I despised and was likely to conflict with, I had built my own DEW line to keep me apprised of who was where. Because there was no way to make everyone wear IFF transponders, “blue shirt good/striped shirt bad ” was the next best thing. But that epiphany left me wondering what the cost of being on DEFCON 4 all the time was - without even knowing it. The strange part is, I notice that I still do it. The atmosphere at my former employer was (is) toxic and stressful, to say the least, but I actually like my coworkers now. Why am I still on guard?

We have a small, separate shop for the students to use -about 15’x30’- and one day I walked into the empty room to get something...and the quiet and isolation was like a soothing balm. I briefly entertained thoughts of moving my machine and tools in there, so I could be alone. Why? Habit from my old job? I don’t think so, for one day when I went down to the park to walk the dog, as I stepped out of the truck I had the mental image of slipping a cape off my shoulders and letting it fall to the ground - except the cape was weighted, very much like the X-ray vest you wear at the dentist. It was very similar to the calming effect I felt walking into the empty "student cave". What was this weight that fell from my shoulders, why was a carrying it around and at what cost?

I dabbled in social media for a bit - Reddit and a couple of cycling forums. I met some nice people - some in real life and a couple who have made it into the very exclusive group I call “friends”. After a time, I stopped to consider the implications of what I was doing. I realized I was posting things and then checking back -almost obsessively- to see if anyone responded, if anyone “liked” what I posted, hoping for that little endorphin hit. It seemed kind of sick and narcissistic, not to mention a huge time-suck, so I stopped posting. (A blog that no one reads doesn’t count, smartass).

Strangely, I make a conscious effort to interact with store clerks and the like. For some reason, I go out of my way to make our interaction more than a business transaction. I know it’s partly empathetic- I realize that they have a job that may be boring and stressful, so I try to alleviate it a bit by not being another person who just throws their stuff on the counter and ignores them. But, maybe it’s a "low-cost" way for me to get my socialization fix. They’re no “threat” to me and I will walk away at the end of our brief encounter. 

I started writing this looking for answers and understanding. Instead, I’ve ended up with more questions and no insight. I still don’t get it. But hey, I’m at least aware.

I Got Fired.

Yeah, I'm now Middle Class, Middle Aged Unemployed White Guy.

I've been told there's a "mourning period" when one loses a job. I guess it's true - smarter folks than I came to that conclusion - but for me, it was like when someone dies after a long, painful illness; a blessing and a relief. They took a fun place to work and slowly strangled the fun out. (Along with slowly whittling away at the benefits). It went from a place I cared about to a place I struggled to forget about when I came home. Any misgivings I still might have had disappeared when a former co-worker told me they just put surveillance cameras everywhere. All they need now is a sign over the door that says "Arbeit Macht Frei".

Still, after 25 1/2 years, that much of a change has been a bit disorienting, to say the least. Like when you lost a tooth as a kid, it's not painful, but the hole where it used to be is noticeable and disconcerting. You never really noticed it when it was there, but once it's gone.....

When I first got let go, I was like, "Hell yeah!" I made myself a laundry list of things I was going to do; both things I wanted to do -like ride my damned bike- and things that have been hanging over my head, undone, like a List of Damocles. I started whittling away at my list. "I'm going to run! I'm going to ride! I'm going to finish the goddamn siding, soffits and fascia! I'm going to walk the dog every morning! I'm going to do some trail work at camp!"

Slowly, though, I realized I was sitting on my ass in front of the iPad longer and longer, every morning. There was no sense of urgency. All those things would be there mañana. It didn't matter if I got them done, they'd still be there if I didn't and I had nothing but time. I had no sense of purpose, no goals, no real future. Every day was going to be the same as the last. That's dangerous territory. I began to understand those people who retire, then drop dead, six months later. The lack of social interaction began to take a toll, too. I'm not exactly Mr. Social Butterfly, but day after day of being by myself began to get to me. Don't get me wrong, Gus has been my buddy the whole time, and if I didn't at least have him to talk to, I'd have come unhinged a while ago, but I've noticed even interacting with store clerks can perk up my mood. Okay, so I'll admit it, I need at least a modicum of social intercourse - I can't quite go full hermit.

I'm not sure what the catalyst was, but I've started to adjust. I could get used to this "not working" thing. I'm sort of ready to go back to work, but when retirement comes, I'll be ready for it, thanks to this "rehearsal".

I've gotten a whole lot of things done around the house, just PR'ed a 10K, lost 11 lbs, stopped drinking soda, made a batch of beer, changed my diet for the better and even- as you may have noticed- started writing again.

Since the wheels of bureaucracy apparently turn very slowly in NJ, I get an extended vacation, for which I am grateful. I also realized I needed this time to reboot my attitude - it's not fair to my future employer to hold them accountable for sins visited upon me by my old employer. I really shouldn't go in there resenting, hating and not trusting them, which was the norm, previously. It's time to get my enthusiasm and my work ethic out of storage. It's time to put my animosity and apathy away. (Hopefully for good). This part may be the biggest challenge of them all.

Why do we....

.....buy a Corvette - arguably an ostentatious, "look at me" vehicle - customize, individualize and personalize it...then join a Corvette club?

I'm not really singling out Corvette owners, but they were the inspiration for this post. (You'll notice I use the pronoun "we" throughout this). I saw what was most likely some sort of a club event in Watkins Glen, recently. There were a number of Corvettes driving by and each was different, yet the same.  Like wild animals living their solitary existences, they had all come from their respective garages to converge at the watering hole, only to disperse again.

This made me reflect on the question of why we humans do things to set ourselves apart - cars, clothes, hairstyles, tattoos, lifestyles or whatever - and then seek others to feel "included". We very much value individualism, yet at the same time, we have a need to "belong". In some respects the two would seem mutually exclusive. We want to be individuals, yet we want to be part of a tribe.

Why is that?

I don't have any ready answers, but I'm sure some dude with a "PhD" and a bunch of alphabet soup after his name has already sorted this out in a paper somewhere. But hey, I'm only a Standup Philosopher, what do I know?

And so....

...the darkness claims another one...

I have to admit that, at my age, I've gotten used to hearing that someone has died. When I saw the headlines that Robin Williams had died, my reaction was "Damn, that's too bad. Hope it wasn't a lingering, painful illness...still, he wasn't that old..." but I wasn't too shook up over the news - I filed it under "shit happens to everyone, eventually - some sooner than others...".

When I heard how it had happened, however, things got dark, fairly quickly.

Now I admit, being the diligent movie-watcher that I am (your sarcasm detector should be going off like mad....) I have not seen any of his movies. I remember him from his HBO specials (yeah, that long ago...) and just random clips of him on different occasions. Hardly enough to have formed an opinion of someone, but on the other hand, I don't remember him playing a role - a scripted persona that he was trying to portray. I remember him....being himself.  His manic energy and the ability to pull from very disparate sources and synthesize something on the fly was amazing to me. (Well, that and the damned voices...) Yet, one thing I remember is that, even when he was parodying someone, it was never mean-spirited, for just as often as he lampooned someone else, he poked fun at himself. He just seemed so full of life, warmth and humor.

So, like everyone else, I was left going "How the fuck did this happen?".

I was dimly aware of his substance-abusing past, but wrote it off to "Hey, it was the '80's..." I thought he, like many of his contemporaries, had put that behind him. Not being too into Hollywood gossip. I wasn't aware of his struggles with Winston Churchill's "black dog".  In retrospect, it makes sense, I guess, for he was not the first (and sadly, won't be the last) to suffer the dichotomy of creativity/depression. I've often wondered why the two seem to be inextricably linked.

How can a person who has everything -fame, fortune, friends, family and a seeming joyous outlook on life- take the plunge off the abyss?

Maybe in humor, he found a way to hide his darkness, or perhaps, knowing what that blackness was like, he sought to provide joy to others that they would be spared that pain.

I've heard so many stories of his generosity -from being personable and gracious about autographs to the bicycle pizza delivery guy he quietly bought a new bike for* to picking up the tab for the medical bills that Christopher Reeve's insurance wouldn't cover. Maybe he gave so much to others that he had nothing left for himself? With empathic and generous people  when more people ask more of you, rather than shortchange someone else, you reduce your own share.

The only good I can see coming from this is that -at least for a few minutes- people are talking about depression, people are talking about suicide. The American people's attention span being what it is, I don't see this lasting....

Many, many people have walked to that cliff and looked over the edge, but walked away instead of taking that last step. Even among people who eventually do, there have been many times where they turned away from the edge. If we could only figure out what makes us turn around and go back to the light, we'd have taken a huge step toward understanding this affliction and how to combat it.



* He happened to be in a bike shop when a guy brought his bike in for a repair. They struck up an conversation and Robin commended the guy for all his hard work. When the guy went back to pick his repair up, there was a brand new bike and a note from Robin.