the love song of j alfred rickschock

i have been restless of late. there is a fair amount going on right now, some of which i hesitate to post here. not that it is scandalous, it just does not need to see the light of the blogosphere. i have, as you know, resigned my current well-paying but soul weeping job with no follow-up job in sight. though i still believe it to be the right thing to do for my well-being and sanity, i am doing it while carrying a mortgage and the cash outlay that comes with raising children. though i feel confident that something will come up (and i am actually working very hard to make a certain *something* happen) patience is not my virtue.

 funny, during the first lunch i ever had with my birth mother, she mentioned the same thing. for myself, when i say patience is not one of my virtues, i do not really mean standing in a line, or being placed on hold during a call. what i cannot stand is to not know what is forth coming (Strange that i would place myself in this situation then, isn't it?). But it is true. It keeps me up at night, makes me ponder all sorts of fantastic outcomes. yet, here i am. I have put an end to this job, i do not yet know what the future is going to bring...and i did it all to my own self.

 with respect to this job, i think i have mentioned this, but i do realize that what i am undertaking is a luxury. most people on this planet, whether at present or at some point in the past, have not had the bougeouis luxury of whining and whimpering that their job does not satisfy their "emotional needs." i know that. i'm appreciative and understand. and yet, i must make this change.

 and, actually, i believe this to be a bit of a mental shadow game. what i am getting at in the last sentence of the previous paragraph is that i do not have it as hard as most people in this world. i was listening to Fresh Air with Terri Gross just moments ago. she was speaking with milos forman who very narrowly survived the german concentration camps. his mother was taken away from him when he was just a child...more or less on his own by the time he was eight. and i started chastising myself for quitting a job where the most harm that comes to me is the daily grind of constant complaints about things that do not really matter at all.

but i think the opposite is true. if someone can go through what mr. forman went through, who emerged as an artist and a respected director, how can i, who had such a great advantage when our childhoods are compared, squandor it on a daily consumption of cell phone billing and accounting (i have said a bit too much, but i do not really  care)? how can i recognize the importance of the gift of life, the fragility of life (mr. forman spoke of visiting his mother one time after she was taken away...in a room for 10 minutes where she asked if the plums were good and if they had made any jam...and after that he never saw her again) and apply this gift toward the pursuit of faculties of thought that are utterly and shamefully vapid?

if i need to be knocked about the head and shown the error of my logic, please do so. but i see true value in so much work, but i do not see any in the work in which i am currently engaged. i already know i am on the bullet train of life and i see the station into which this train will pull. how much longer shall i stay here counting the hundred indecisions?

[ let me take a moment to remind myself of why i took this job (i frequently need to come to my own defense): it was not because you thought it as a career. it was and has always been a means to an end. that end being the freedom to more or less be your own boss and dictate to yourself the plans of any given day. the only alteration to this plan is that you are unable to finish this job prior to your REAL plan being ready to go. ok. so what? ]

i will make those mermaids speak to me yet. i will. 

my son turned 10 yesterday

happy birthday luke atticus! you don't know it yet, but time flies. you are my precious boy and i could not be more proud of you. happy birthday my son.

sister and nephew coming down next week

next week marks a major and great milestone...for the first time my sister and her son are coming down for the weekend. i've been up to oklahoma a dozen or so times, but this is the fist time one of my newly found siblings will be spending the night under my roof. I'm very excited.

killing days

because of the current job that i have (and have given notice of my intent to resign) i find myself simply killing days. i don't like this existence...where all i am looking forward to is the end of the day. a couple of days ago my neighbor knocked on the door. he was working on his car and needed to go to the auto parts store.

we ended up chasing the necessary part all the way to a napa store off of seminary in fort worth. this gave us time to converse. both of us are adopted, but that was not the focus of the conversation. my neighbor has a new-born son (6 months old) and as all parents know (well most, i suppose) having a child gives one a new perspective on life. as we drove down the old fort worth streets, taking the long way down beach drive, which is somewhat akin to going through a time warp and arriving in approximately 1972, we pondered, somewhat befittingly, what makes life speed up as we age.

my neighbor's assertion is that as children, each day is somewhat different: new adventures, new traumas, new joys, new friends. as we age, those daily surprises are all but eliminated, we become almost programmed. he further asserted that his goal, or at least his desire, was to craft an existence that was more like his former life; his childhood. not that he wanted to be a child, he simply wanted each day to be meaningful.

while i believe the answer to times' rapidity is probably somewhat more complex (i am sure he would acknowledge that as well) his assertion and desire is right in sync with mine. i want a life where each day is, while not always joyful or inspiring, at least, meaningful. and i do not mean in a purely existential or artistic or "whatever" sense. i'd like the freedom, almost exclusively found in childhood (at least in this country) to craft my day: whether it is working outside, starting a company, finding an obscure autopart, traveling to see family and friends: that is the life i want. i realize that may be polyanic, but i'm actually going to attempt to grasp that life: i have resigned my current job which affords a nice salary but nothing in the way of joy or meaning. i am rolling the dice. i appreciate the love of my wife for letting me do this...i go back to Donald Hall's poem, Affirmation, which has been circling through my mind these last few days:

    "it is fitting and delicious to lose everything"

we have already lost everything. we own nothing. we borrow. we return. permanently. from that perspective, what is the greater risk: being unemployed, or spending almost each and every day hoping it will just end?

It's COLD in Texas

That's right...a whopping 30 degrees! What are we going to do?

I'm ready for spring:

bluebonnets

indian paint brushes

baseball

spring break

road trips

the first swim

lawn mowing

flower planting

long evenings