I'm in a weird mood.  Actually, I have been for a few days now.

Or maybe it is not that weird.

Maybe it's just the loneliness hitting me in a different way.

I've noticed that I have had a reaction, for lack of a better word, to many women lately.  Don't get me wrong, there has never been a time when I didn't notice that a woman was attractive or pleasant to interact with.  But the last few days, I notice those things I always do and then I start picture what a date, or more, might look like.

Between you and I (I can trust you, can't I?), there are a few women a work with that have got my attention.  One of them is, frankly, too young for me and has a boyfriend as well.  One of them is still younger, but maybe not embarrassingly so, but if I had to guess, she has her own thing going on and I'm not her type.  The last one, I know nothing about, she works in the kitchen and I've barely interacted with her, but she seems cool.

Of course, none of this means anything really.  Except that it's new to me.  From 1998 to halfway through 2017, I've pretty much been with some one.  Now it's been about a year since the thing with the women I dated after she left ended.  This is the longest I've been unattached in decades.

It's not even just about girls or dating.  I don't have a buddy around here to hang out with.  I'm lonely.  I have my work interactions and that's great.  I have family interactions at home, that's good too.  But I think I want (maybe need) more.

Of course, i don't know how to make that happen.  I don't know how to meet people.  I don't know how to make the leap from work buddy to more.

But I guess I'm going to have to figure it out.

A chance to catch my breath

After working 8 days straight and 70 some odd hours, I had a day off today.

Wednesday through Sunday were insanely busy.  Saturday was hellish.  Almost every movie in every theater was sold out.  (Pretty much everything but a couple of the seatings of that god-awful Robin Hood movie.)  Three servers called out, along with four runners that called out or no-showed.  No time to smoke.  No time to pee.  No time to catch your breath.  12 hours of this shit.  I was supposed to train in the bar for the second part of my shift.  I was behind the bar for less than 2 hours.  I had 36,500 steps or so.  A new personal record.  I was grumpy and scowly.  It sucked.

To my credit (I think so anyway), I bounced back and was ready to rock and roll on Sunday.  Smiling, hustling, making little jokes with my co-workers.  Monday and Tuesday were normal slow weekdays and gave me a chance to catch my breath (and actually train on bar.)

And then today.  I got paid.  I did laundry.  I took a nice long shower.  And I shaved for the first time in two weeks.  I know that doesn't sound like a big deal, but for the last several days, I've been getting up, crushing a cigarette or two while pouring some coffee into me, before jumping into the shower for five minutes, maybe less, and then rushing out the door to work.  I don't really grow a beard beyond the neat trimmed goatee that I have, but the scraggly stray whiskers were making me nuts, even if no one else could see the difference.  A nice long hot shower and good clean shave was almost like a spa treatment for me.

Then this evening, my son and I went to see Bohemian Rhapsody.  Free movie tickets are nice perk from work, it got even nicer when their was a projection issue and the make started 25 minutes late.  They gave all the guests Rain Checks to a future movie to apologize for the inconvenience, including us.  So now I have 2 more free tickets (and these don't have the normal employee restrictions on them.)

The movie was great.  I've seen most of it during the course of doing my job, but it is just not the same is seeing uninterrupted and in order.  We enjoyed it.  I bawled my eyes out during the end when they showed the Live-Aid set.  It was great.

I usually cry at movies.  I have for years.  I think it has something to do with whatever emotions I have bottled up.  It is definitely getting worse.  Hell, there are trailers that I catch in the theater that choke me up.  Mary Poppins Returns definitely gets me.  But that may just be because I'm a big sap.

It may also be because I am still grieving things that I've lost and haven't really processed yet.  But that is a discussion for another day.

For today, I had a day off and it was pretty damn good.. 

Fighting the impostor

Okay, I'll admit I was in a pretty bad mood last night.  But, I'm feeling better today.

I got trained on the back bar today.  That is a service bar.  All of the drinks that guests order from the servers come from there.

It was different.  But good.  I feel like I picked it up pretty quickly.  Of course, it was trial by fire.  Multiple sold out theaters all day long.  When it got crazy busy, they pulled me to run.  This isn't anything personal, bartenders are always the back up to support runners when it gets backed up.  It make sense too.  No point in having bartenders keep making drinks, when they aren't getting out theaters.

So, an 11 hour day to start my week.  I like it.

You may wonder, why is this guy always updating about his hours and how many steps he took (18,000 for the record) on this blog?

It is an easy way for to measure that I am accomplishing something.  Sure, it's just running food and pouring drinks for a lot of hours.  But every day that I go in and do it (and do it well) is a success.  I've learned that when success seems hard to find, to start counting up the little wins.  It helps.

Are you familiar with Impostor Syndrome?  It's the phenomenon where an individual believes that they are not really qualified to do what it is they are doing.  It's pretty common.  You may be asked to train someone how to do something at work, and a nagging little voice in your head says, but I'm not even sure that I do it right.

It is also common in job hunting and interview situations.  And as rejections pile up, it gets worse.  So imagine looking for a job in your field for a solid year and for whatever reason, no one wants to hire you.  Well, that's me.

By September, I had hard time believing that I was qualified to push a broom.  Add to that the rejection factory of dating apps.  Over a year of that, and I actually met in person, one woman.  And she was nuts.  Now that nagging little voice is screaming at me, you are unqualified and quite frankly unlikable.

I know that these things aren't true.  But the feeling is hard to shake.

So I go to work.  And I succeed.  And people actually like me.  And then I write about it here.

Because it is going take a while to undo that feeling.  I need to keep reminding myself.  Writing it down (or at least typing it to the Internet) is the best way I know to reinforce it.

So bear with me and my little updates.  These are baby steps I need to take.

Happy fucking holidays to you too

I worked today.

I guess you knew that if you read this thing.

Wednesday was crazy busy.  I loved it.

Today... it was busy-ish.  It made for a long day.  10 hours to be exact.  60 for the week.

I had an anxiety attack at work.  Not a total panic attack, but closer than is comfortable.

I'm not sure what started it.  Probably a combination of things.

Maybe a bit of Cindy Lou Who trying desperately to contact Santa, so that Santa can help her poor loving, hard working, single mom.

Maybe it was it was my co-workers being sad, angry, irritated that they had to be at work instead having a Thanksgiving they wanted to have.  In contrast to me, who was much happier to be there instead of having a Thanksgiving with my folks, brother, sister, their spouses, and normal families.

Maybe it was that work was at that moment providing us for free the Turkey dinner platter special.

Maybe it was just the exhaustion.

Once it started, I found myself short of breath and on the verge of tears.

And my mind raced.

Images of Thanksgiving when thing were normal.

Images of Thanksgivings when my son was with his mom and I was alone with my family.

Remembering my mom saying this week how much the cousins said they would miss my son when he wasn't there.  After she said had said it few different times, I joked that I hoped they'd miss me too.  Oh, she replied, they don't know you won't be there.

The fact that they planned and scheduled this year's festivities before they even knew when I would work or what my options were.

The fact that I knew the fridge was stocked with more beer than anyone who had a two hour drive afterwards needed.  And the surety that it would not be there (no doubt sent home with my brother and sister).  For the record, I was right.  I can have leftover turkey, but we aren't giving Jeckles any beer he doesn't buy.  (Edit: I'm an idiot.  The beer was in a cooler outside.  Maybe I was just looking for things to be grumpy about.)

All of these things and more, in snippets and out of order and over and over again.

I finally got outside for a smoke break and was able to calm my self down.  And when I checked the time, it was ironically 2 PM.  Just when my family was starting their meal.

I've felt drained and deflated since then.

I wish it had been busier.  Busy enough for me to be completely distracted.

No one will really understand why I really was happier to be at work today.  But I am certain that the anxiety attack I had work was nothing compared to what I would have had, if I had got to  spend Thanksgiving with my family.

I have a bunch of leftovers I could eat, but I don't even know if I want to.  (Maybe I'm just look for things to be upset about, but if I was hosting a thing and someone was going to miss it, I'd put together a plate for them.)  I might just have a beer or two and go to bed.   

Holidays suck and we are just getting started.  All the more reason to try to work 60 hours every week until January.  I'm already done with the holiday season.

I haven't enjoyed this time of year for a long time now.  I sincerely hope your Holidays are much, much better.

About this giving of thanks thing

Tonight I delivered my son to his mother, after working a short (8 hour) shift.  He's set for Thanksgiving.  The rest of the country is making their preparations.

My family will be gathering at my folks' place (where I currently reside).  There will be two turkeys, one grilled and one baked, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, pie and more.  They will arrive at noon for a 2 PM feast.

Long before anyone shows up, I will be at work.  And they will be long gone before I get home.  Although, I do anticipate leftovers.

I am so okay with this.

The thought of being around the whole lot of them sounds... well... awful.  The unasked questions.  Are you still looking for a real job?  Do you have a plan?  We are entirely too polite to actually ask them.  But they would nibble around the edges.

I do regret that I won't get to see my nieces and nephews (a grand total of 7 of them.)  They are pretty awesome.  But it is what it is.  A mandatory work day.

Besides, the whole thankful thing isn't really where I'm at right now.  I am thankful for my son.  He's grown into an awesome young man.  Better than I could have ever hoped for.

But after that, it's hard for me to think of gratitude without grieving what I've lost.  I am grateful that I have this job.  It's done wonders for me.  But I've lost my career.  I'm thankfully that my folks have helped support me, but I'm ashamed that they've had to.

And I'm not thankful at all for feeling so alone.

So yeah.  I'll skip it.  Go to work.  Make overtime.  And keep entirely too busy to let those thoughts into my head for long.  I figure I can stretch into a 12 hour day.

And I guess, I am thankful for that too.

Why are you still here?

I'm tired.

I am truly pushing myself at this job.  I work 6 days a week, and do my best to stretch each of those shifts as long as I can.  This has gotten easier since they keep scheduling me to open.  I work the 7-9 hours that the openers work, and then volunteer to help through the dinner rush.  Since it seems that we have someone call out for every shift, and we are now into the Holiday movie season; they are happy to have me for another 2-3 hours. 

Last week (Friday to Thursday), I worked 58.5 hours.  For more fun, there was a nice little snow storm on Thursday and I was one of the very few people who was scheduled who showed up.  I worked 11.5 hours.  But they did put me in a hotel and gave me combat pay for being willing to be there in that situation.

This week,  I've worked 31 hours or so, with three more days to work.  I'm off today, but Wednesday and Thursday will be busy as hell (I'll easily work 20 hours on those two days).   My next day off will likely be the following Wednesday.

My fancy watch says I get over 25,000 steps every time I work.  (Yesterday I got 35,000.) That translates to at least 12 miles of walking (and jogging, in some cases) each day. I've traveled 60ish miles in that building since my day off last Wednesday.

It is a full workout.  I sweat, I huff and puff.  My feet, my quads and my back always hurt.  I don't eat at work.  I don't want to spend money on our premium priced food, and honestly, I'm always so hot when I'm working that the thought of eating is simply unappealing.  (I do, however, sometimes spend money on our premium priced beer at that bar after work.)  I come home and carbo-load on what ever leftovers are around and crash until I have to get up and do it again.  I've lost over 20 pounds since I started.

It is a lot.  Obviously, I'm trying to make some money, but there is more to it than that.  I feel like I'm driven to work as much as possible.  Like I'm trying to prove something.  I don't know what I'm trying to prove or why I feel like I have to.  That maybe isn't entirely healthy either. 

It might be that I can't shake this feeling that my life is not whole.  Things are missing.  My therapist kept telling me that I needed to work on self-care.  Ignoring the fact that self-care sounds like a euphemism for something that I've been taking care off since I was like 14, I have trouble with the concept. 

My entire adult life, I haven't really done things for me.  My motivation has always been others.  I can be very motivated to work to maybe someone else happy, or fulfilled, or something.  But I don't even know what I want, other than a few guilty pleasures.  Go for a drive somewhere and see something beautiful, has been suggested.  But why?  Without out someone to turn to and say 'wow, isn't that beautiful?' it's just me taking a drive by myself.  Take a walk, do something creative, take a class, workout, meditate.  I'm just not feeling it.

Work my ass off?  That I can do.  That I understand.  And at work I get social interaction.  With my co-workers, with the guests.  It's good.  Outside of work, I'm just a stranger in a strange town.  As I work my 9th, 10th or 11th hours, people ask me, 'why are you still here?'  I give them any number of snarky answers, but the truth is I have no where else to be.  I'm lonely.  And oddly, I'm more lonely than when I had practically no social interaction.  It is a combination of having a taste of interaction, snippets of conversations throughout the day and seeing people having fun together.

I think most of the people I work with went to high school together.  It is a small town on top of that.  Everyone seems to know each other.  I know no one.  On the one hand it is awesome that I am keeping busy and having a chance to interact with people, on the other it leaves me feeling isolated.  Some days it isn't a thing at all.  But the last week or so, I've been feeling it a lot.  Could I be friends outside of work with some of these guys?  Maybe, but mostly they are so young that I don't know that it works.  I fear that when they look at me, they see someone their parents age, not a potential friend.  Maybe that's how it should be.

I've never understood why no one ever says to me, 'hey I know someone you should meet.'  Whether that would be a potential buddy or a potential date.  I feel like people do this, they introduce people that think have something in common.  This is networking, right?

No one has ever done that for me.  My brother, my parents have been down here for 4 plus years.  They know lots of people.  Why don't they feel the desire to do that for me.  I've made it clear that I'm lonely and would love to meet people, but it doesn't happen.  Is that because they think I don't want that?  That I wouldn't like anyone that they know?  That they think that no one that they know would like me?

It's frustrating.  I could stand a local buddy.  Or date.  Or anything like a social life.  And sooner or later, I'll figure it out.  But it frustrates that no one wants to help a brother out.

So maybe that it is it.  Maybe I'm taking the lack of social life, the lack of things that I want to do for me and pouring it all into this job.  If I can't have those things, I can do more, do better and do longer at work.

I'm not convinced that this is bad thing.

True Believers

Stan Lee died yesterday.  He was 95, so I guess it isn't really a shock.  But it hit me much harder than I expected.  Someone passed that fact along to me at work yesterday.  My first reaction was, okay that make sense.  A little while later, I realized I was on the verge of tears.

Other people will write better obituaries, memories and tributes, so I won't try to do that.  But I will tell you what he meant to me.

Stan Lee rose through the ranks of what was then Atlas Comics.  In the early 60's they re-branded as Marvel Comics.  In, what I believe is an unprecedented burst of creativity, Lee (along with Jack Kirby and others) created some of the most iconic super heroes in popular fiction.  If you watch movies at all, you are familiar with them.  The Fantastic Four, Thor, Iron Man, the X-Men, Black Panther, Doctor Strange, Daredevil and more were created during this time frame.  He modernized the WWII era hero Captain America as the man out of time that we all now know.  But most importantly, to me anyway, he created Spider-Man.

Spider-man embodies the theme that ran through almost all Marvel heroes.  He had incredible (one might say Amazing) powers, but at the same time struggled with school, money, friends and girls.  Unlike Golden Age heroes like Superman, he wasn't a god.  He was a kid.  And he had the same kinds of problems that the rest of us kids had.  He was amazing, but he was human.  We could relate to him.

So yeah, I'm a comic book nerd and Stan Lee created some of my favorite characters.  But the reason, I think, that his death hit me so hard is remembering the Saturday mornings of my childhood.

I feel bad for my son's generation.  They will never understand the magic of Saturday morning cartoons.  They had cartoons whenever they wanted.  But for me (us), there were Saturday mornings, the one time that had shows just for us.

NBC aired various versions of a Spider-man cartoon when I was young.  I remember Spider-man and his Amazing Friends followed by The Incredible Hulk.  And each week I was greeted by Stan Lee, who said, Welcome True Believers and then gave some perspective to the episodes we were about to watch.

Welcome True Believers.

That was permission to engage in the fantasy.  It was acknowledgement that loving these characters was a righteous pursuit.  It was being part of a club, full of people I didn't know, but we were all True Believers.

That's what hit me.  I've loved these super heroes for most of my life, but I learned to love them on Saturday mornings and Stan Lee greeted me each week.  And welcomed me to believe.  I still do.  But he is gone.  And with him, some part of my childhood died as well.

Excelsior Stan.  And thank you.