The snow is taking its last retreat here. Finally. It's been a long dark winter in Chicago, filled with cold tempertures and frequented by snow storms. But, though still below average temperatures, and with thanks to day light savings, I'm seeing more sun and less ice. This is comforting.
Work has been shitty during this period. Punctuated with more projects and less competent people, but this too is supposed to get better soon. Apparently, they are bringing in a "filing expert" to come and take a look at our system and make recommendations. I'm trying not to be bitter that I was once told I would be this expert, but at least this should make things easier. Or so I like to believe.
Staying with work, it seems I've decided to go for the paralegal certificate. There's a lot of positives to it (more cash, more autonomy and thinking, more job opportunities should we decide to leave Chicago, and it opens up jobs outside of law firms a lot more than I originally thought) , and few negatives (billing hours can suck). I'm happy with the decision, but a little disappointed that I'll start in the fall (you know, once I actually apply). It's a year-long program, so, it looks like I may stay here for another year plus. At least with the outsourcing company, who may pony up some cash for me, in which case I could be with them for 2 years or so, total.
You know, when I'd given up the idea of being a ballplayer (though I still have dreams of making it as a low-level relief pitcher [I've got to be as good as Armando Benitez right now, right? Um. no.]), I never thought this is where my life would take me.
For the longest time I assumed my livelihood would be tied to my want for expression. The need to be out there saying something (no matter how softly I spoke). But, I'm 30 years old now. I'm getting married. And while I've published a wee bit in comics, it looks like both publishers I've "worked" with (is it work if they don't pay you? Sort of.) seem to have failed. Though they aren't willing to say they're done. (Here's the bio page with the publisher I would call the "crazy one". I liked how my bio turned out...) And you know, I've still got ideas. And I'm still going to put things down. And maybe I'll get published (hey, someone's still paying John Byrne), but it probably won't be how I thought of it originally.
Which is okay. It's kind of upsetting to me that I'll never (and I'm being honest here) get the acclaim of being a good writer, and the adoring groupies (platonic groupies, Dinah. Platonic groupies). (Little known fact, comics writers do have groupies. Sure, they're dressed as storm troopers, but sexy storm troopers). Really, that's probably what I wanted most. For people to look at something I wrote and say, "hey man, that's pretty good." I can't say if that's how Mark Twain started writing, but I would venture a guess no (though maybe I'm being a little naive about this).
Anyway. I think I only know one person who knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life and now is doing it. In a lot of ways I'm jealous of him and how his life turned out. He's got a nice house, a great wife, a gorgeous (if loud) baby, and the job he's always wanted. It's the American dream, right? It's exactly what we're all supposed to be lusting after, right? I mean, it's not the path I wanted to travel, but the results. Those are the things you're parents (well, mine) tell you (me) to go for. And truthfully, I do want them. Not that it keeps me up at night or rattles me constantly, but. It's there, and I think about it. And I blame myself for not getting there yet. Which probably isn't fair to myself.
I do think I've sort of floated through life up until recently. I haven't aggressively gone after what I want (or deserve, if I'm allowing myself to believe that). But. Maybe that's not my fault. Maybe it's just how I needed to do things. Maybe it's how I needed to figure out that I should be going after the things I want.
Which brings me to Joe Hicks again. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him since I last wrote about him. I wonder what it was that told him it was time to call it a career and pursue something else. Age, most likely. Maybe family concerns. I don't know, and I doubt he'd appreciate me calling him up and asking. Though I like to think he'd invite me down to Kokomo where we'd have a beer and talk about life, baseball, and what-not. (It's too Field of Dreams to really happen, but as long as I don't try to talk to him, I can keep believing this is what would happen.) But, it's the romantic notion (and if he's anything to me, Joe Hicks is a romantic figure), to think he sees his kids playing ball and feels that twinge or remorse at not getting to face Dave Drabecki's fastball or Joaquin Andujar's crazy. But, who knows. Maybe he's happy because he does own the franchise homerun mark in Des Moines (shades of Bull Durham, sure). And he knows he did what he could to get there, and that looking back hurts your neck and your spirit. (Wait, I'm not surprising anyone by saying that I am probably the Joe Hicks I'm talking about am I? Oof. I took that too far.)
What I'm saying is, who knows what I've got coming in the future. I'm getting married (did I mention that's in 16 days? It is.) to an amazing woman. I'm getting a paralegal certificate. Everything else is hazy. I'm not really tied down to any one thing right now. Which, at 30, I thought I would be. That's encouraging, really. Sure, I want some things that will tie me down (house, kids, sexy storm trooper dominatrix), but still. But I'll get them. It's not like I have to have any of this done in the next 10 years. I kind of hope I have some of it done in the next 10 years, but what happens if I don't?
Nothing. I'll live.
Anyhoo. I've rambled a little bit off course, I know. I guess I'm just saying I'm happy the ice is receding, the sun is shining and that I'm getting married in 16 days. I'm not sure I accomplished much with this entry, but it was long. And I'm sure you gained even less by reading, but at least now you know my pen name.
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