1/25/16
Important memories have a knack for bubbling to the surface at the opportune moment.
My Grandma (Dad's mom), passed away when I was in the 6th grade. She was the first one of my relatives to pass away. Hers was the first funeral I ever went to.
After the funeral there was a reception in the basement of the town (Echo OR) church. I sat next to my Aunt Dee during. I always liked her. She always enjoyed talking to me, was always nice, didnt boss me around. Ya know, all the combinations that make up a great relative. Even after just burying her mother, she was willing to answer all the questions that an 12 year old had to ask. I asked about my Grandma, what she was like more. I asked about what my dad was like as a kid. What this town was like as a kid, what she was like. She answered everything with a smile. She gave me this new perspective on the lives of people I had know my whole life. I loved it and I loved her for it.
Sadly, I did not remember how much I enjoyed and cherished that moment until this morning. I woke up to a text from my dad saying that she had passed away peacefully. I stared working backwards, and thinking about the times I had spent with her. I saw her just this last summer at a family reunion Illinois. Before that it had been a very long time and quite possibly the last time may have been my Grandma's funeral. But then I remembered how amazing she made that time. How she was able to let a little boy, confused about the box containing his Grandmother, bombard her with questions, and make him feel comfortable. I remember how she normalized the situation. Helped me to feel ok with my first experience with loss. I dont know if she knew what she was doing, or if she was just having a conversation and doing her best to put up with me. Either way, it still means so much.
Im sad I never got to thank her.
I have a lot of Aunts and Uncles. They in turn have a lot of kids, nieces, nephews and grandchildren. So I do not expect much in terms of the memory department with them. But when she was able, every year, on my birthday there was a phone call or a card. Every year the age of my birthday was correct. Neer once did she ask me how old I was. Even this summer. She knew I was 21. Again, I dont know how she did it.
But I thank her for it.
RIP Aunt Dee.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Friday, January 22, 2016
Kindergarten Projects: The Foundation of Future Success
1/22/16
The last few months have been nothing but me trying to figure out me. Progress has been slow. My school work, job and my relationships with my family and friends have each taken a bit of a back seat. If during this time, I have had some form of negative affect on you I am sorry, truly. Also, to people who have done the same to me in that stretch of time and before, well I don't really care. The actions, and thoughts of others have not really been on my mind.
I am learning to take responsibility for the wrong things I do. Not so much toward others, because I do feel that I own up to my actions in that regard. But I do a terrible job of treating myself the right way. So if what I am going through is depression, or just a bad few years, or whatever it is, I know that a lot of it falls on me. I need to eat healthier. I need to get my ass to the gym. I need to listen better. And I need to think carefully about the words that I use or don't use. But mostly what I need to do is find out what makes me me, and how to live that life. Because if i'm not living as the best Mack i can be, then I am never going to be able to achieve anything else.
I started CWU in Fall of 2012. It was the only school I applied too, but a 100% acceptance rate for college is nothing to sneeze at, and the credit I receive for such a thing is always lacking....DAD. But when I showed up I put on a good face, as I always do. I cracked jokes, I smiled, I laughed, I wasn't happy. Its hard to pinpoint when I started not to be happy, mainly because its hard to pinpoint when i realized I wasn't happy. (BTW, i wont be proof reading or using a thesaurus or anything for the majority of these. If i want to do something formal i will. If i catch mistakes is will fix them, But thats not really the point of this currently. so BEAR with me...............) I knew it wasn't the school. It came down to me. I didnt know what type of person i wanted to be, so figuring out the friends i wanted, the major I wanted, or anything was near impossible to decide.
I have switched majors 6 times since coming to CWU. I came originally to do Sports Business, Then switched to broadcast journalism, screenwriting, theater, education and finally Political Science. So as you can see, it was a very clear and concise grouping of fields that made it very easy to decypher what my degree should be. Oddly enough, I even considered going into meteorology simply because that was apparently what i wanted to be in kindergarten. I remember the drawing that i did for it and everything. Kindergarten was a good ass time. I highly recommend. But alas, i landed on political science. Which as it turns out, has become a very fine choice, a choice that was made in November of my Junior year here at Central.
24hrs prior to my declaration as a Poli. Sci. major, I found myself in line to declare a a Secondary History Education Major, in Black Hall here on campus. Whilst in said line, my hands began to shake. My body temp rose. I started to sweat. This was my first ever panic attack/nervous breakdown. I could sense it coming. I had no clue how to handle it. I had no clue what i would have done if i would have let that happen. All i knew to do was stuff my papers in my backpack and wrinkly as i could, and get the fuck out of that building, which i did. I knew that that had to be a sign that Education, at least at that time, was not for me. So i went home, looked online at the catalog of majors on the CWU website, saw political science, remembered the 101 poli sci class i had my freshman year. i remembered that i enjoy my politial opinions, and talking about politics with others, so i called the department. They didnt have a secretary so the Chair of the Dept. answered the phone. He talked me through the major, I looked at the requirements, did some math, and discovered that i could do Poli Sci and still graduate in 4 years total. Less than a 15hrs later I was in the Poli Sci. Office and was declared as a Poli Sci Major.
I have no plans on using my degree.
The last few months have been nothing but me trying to figure out me. Progress has been slow. My school work, job and my relationships with my family and friends have each taken a bit of a back seat. If during this time, I have had some form of negative affect on you I am sorry, truly. Also, to people who have done the same to me in that stretch of time and before, well I don't really care. The actions, and thoughts of others have not really been on my mind.
I am learning to take responsibility for the wrong things I do. Not so much toward others, because I do feel that I own up to my actions in that regard. But I do a terrible job of treating myself the right way. So if what I am going through is depression, or just a bad few years, or whatever it is, I know that a lot of it falls on me. I need to eat healthier. I need to get my ass to the gym. I need to listen better. And I need to think carefully about the words that I use or don't use. But mostly what I need to do is find out what makes me me, and how to live that life. Because if i'm not living as the best Mack i can be, then I am never going to be able to achieve anything else.
I started CWU in Fall of 2012. It was the only school I applied too, but a 100% acceptance rate for college is nothing to sneeze at, and the credit I receive for such a thing is always lacking....DAD. But when I showed up I put on a good face, as I always do. I cracked jokes, I smiled, I laughed, I wasn't happy. Its hard to pinpoint when I started not to be happy, mainly because its hard to pinpoint when i realized I wasn't happy. (BTW, i wont be proof reading or using a thesaurus or anything for the majority of these. If i want to do something formal i will. If i catch mistakes is will fix them, But thats not really the point of this currently. so BEAR with me...............) I knew it wasn't the school. It came down to me. I didnt know what type of person i wanted to be, so figuring out the friends i wanted, the major I wanted, or anything was near impossible to decide.
I have switched majors 6 times since coming to CWU. I came originally to do Sports Business, Then switched to broadcast journalism, screenwriting, theater, education and finally Political Science. So as you can see, it was a very clear and concise grouping of fields that made it very easy to decypher what my degree should be. Oddly enough, I even considered going into meteorology simply because that was apparently what i wanted to be in kindergarten. I remember the drawing that i did for it and everything. Kindergarten was a good ass time. I highly recommend. But alas, i landed on political science. Which as it turns out, has become a very fine choice, a choice that was made in November of my Junior year here at Central.
24hrs prior to my declaration as a Poli. Sci. major, I found myself in line to declare a a Secondary History Education Major, in Black Hall here on campus. Whilst in said line, my hands began to shake. My body temp rose. I started to sweat. This was my first ever panic attack/nervous breakdown. I could sense it coming. I had no clue how to handle it. I had no clue what i would have done if i would have let that happen. All i knew to do was stuff my papers in my backpack and wrinkly as i could, and get the fuck out of that building, which i did. I knew that that had to be a sign that Education, at least at that time, was not for me. So i went home, looked online at the catalog of majors on the CWU website, saw political science, remembered the 101 poli sci class i had my freshman year. i remembered that i enjoy my politial opinions, and talking about politics with others, so i called the department. They didnt have a secretary so the Chair of the Dept. answered the phone. He talked me through the major, I looked at the requirements, did some math, and discovered that i could do Poli Sci and still graduate in 4 years total. Less than a 15hrs later I was in the Poli Sci. Office and was declared as a Poli Sci Major.
I have no plans on using my degree.
So it Begins
1/22/16
"Talking to yourself isn't crazy. Answering yourself is."
You know, I don't think I agree with that quote. I think good conversation is good conversation, no matter who with. As someone who has always kept in consistent contact with myself both verbally and mentally I have learned that talking to yourself does not make you crazy.
For a long time I really did think there was something wrong. Because it was not just the occasional couple question and answers that people have, I would have close to full conversations with myself. I had no idea what might cause it, and how to stop it. But recently, as in earlier today, I think I finally stumbled on the answer; The voice in my head is not just that, but it is my voice. The conversations i have been having are not between two personalities, but between two different adaptations of the same one.
I believe that I have been having conversations between the person and the writer in me. I believe that i have been having these conversations, because I have all these thoughts, musings, dreams and opinions that have no where to go. These conversations have been the only way that I could process, file, and store info, or else it would have no where to go, and traffic would start to build up in my brain.
Thus, this brings us to this blog. One, I want to test out my theory that I am a writer, and see if that by putting things on paper, the conversations among myself might subside. Also, I think that a lot of the things I have to say should be heard, and talked about by others, and talked about with me.
So, if I post something, and it hits a chord with you, if it makes you angry or sad. If it makes you laugh or cry. If you agree or if you disagree, or if you simply want to talk; LETS. I not only want to work through some of the issues I have been having, but I also want to create a place, or an avenue that people can use to help themselves. I have 0 qualifications that make me able to help anyone is almost anyway, but I want to try. I want to try for myself, and to give others a chance to be apart of it, or to help themselves is just an added bonus.
I have no idea how often I will write. I have no idea how long each individual post will be. I have no idea what is going to be said in each post, and there is no guarantee that the beginning of a post will relate to the middle or the end.
So here is it. "Talking to Myself, About Myself."
Thanks.
"Talking to yourself isn't crazy. Answering yourself is."
You know, I don't think I agree with that quote. I think good conversation is good conversation, no matter who with. As someone who has always kept in consistent contact with myself both verbally and mentally I have learned that talking to yourself does not make you crazy.
For a long time I really did think there was something wrong. Because it was not just the occasional couple question and answers that people have, I would have close to full conversations with myself. I had no idea what might cause it, and how to stop it. But recently, as in earlier today, I think I finally stumbled on the answer; The voice in my head is not just that, but it is my voice. The conversations i have been having are not between two personalities, but between two different adaptations of the same one.
I believe that I have been having conversations between the person and the writer in me. I believe that i have been having these conversations, because I have all these thoughts, musings, dreams and opinions that have no where to go. These conversations have been the only way that I could process, file, and store info, or else it would have no where to go, and traffic would start to build up in my brain.
Thus, this brings us to this blog. One, I want to test out my theory that I am a writer, and see if that by putting things on paper, the conversations among myself might subside. Also, I think that a lot of the things I have to say should be heard, and talked about by others, and talked about with me.
So, if I post something, and it hits a chord with you, if it makes you angry or sad. If it makes you laugh or cry. If you agree or if you disagree, or if you simply want to talk; LETS. I not only want to work through some of the issues I have been having, but I also want to create a place, or an avenue that people can use to help themselves. I have 0 qualifications that make me able to help anyone is almost anyway, but I want to try. I want to try for myself, and to give others a chance to be apart of it, or to help themselves is just an added bonus.
I have no idea how often I will write. I have no idea how long each individual post will be. I have no idea what is going to be said in each post, and there is no guarantee that the beginning of a post will relate to the middle or the end.
So here is it. "Talking to Myself, About Myself."
Thanks.
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