Nick

The world is about two-thirds of the way through the month of May 2020 and nothing will ever be the same. The United States is a little over two months into a national emergency while fighting the novel corona virus and we were late to the party. Several European countries were weeks to months ahead of us in both response and preparation. As of the time I write this, more than 90,000 Americans are dead. As a result of the lock-downs certain states implemented in an effort to reduce the spread, our economy has cratered. More than 20% of Americans are currently unemployed, the largest number since the Great Depression. While restrictions are beginning to loosen in places, we now wear masks in public and try to maintain six feet from each other - what we now call social distancing. None of us have been able to escape the reach of this new disease.

How it has affected me: on March 21, two full days before the state of Illinois instituted our lock-down, I made the difficult decision to close my shop. The news out of Europe at the time was alarming and the smart among us began making preparations. For the full week before I closed our shop, I encouraged customers to bring projects to us at a discount so that we could stay occupied with work during our quarantine. I transformed my dining room into a fully functional archiving station. For the first week, I was pretty serious about it. I worked eight hours every day, more on some and didn't take any time off. I posited that working from home didn't require "time off" since I controlled my schedule. By the middle of the second week, in early April, my outlook began to change. I worked less and focused more on myself. I would leave the house only to find myself at the Millennium Trail for a work-out. Four weeks into the lock-down I began to work from the store two or three days a week. It was nice to be out of the house, even though there was little pressure to do anything quickly. I rearranged the store's lobby so that I could work by the windows. It gave me a sense of happiness to see the arrival of spring outside, even while working. As our country grew restless from being quarantined, more and more folks began venturing away from their homes. That resulted in a fairly significant increase in business for us even being closed. On April 29th, our governor allowed retail businesses to begin offering curbside pick-up and drop-off service. That was 21 days ago and the business is running at 75-80% of where it normally is. While not ideal, we are still technically working from behind closed doors until our stage three gating criteria are met, supposedly ten days from now. We shall see, as these dates have tended to be extended from time to time. Initially we all thought this would last three weeks or so. It probably could have... but then this becomes a political post as opposed to just a historical account.

So why the journal entry tonight then? For years and years adding up to nearly two decades, I have desired change. I've written about it in this journal. I've written about it in my actual journal. I've made motivational posters. I've laminated inspirational quotes and carried them around with me in my car. I've cried over my loneliness too many times to count. I've allowed relationships to languish or fall apart completely because it was easier to do that than to confront whatever challenges that relationship faced. I didn't fight. I didn't fight for me, for my business, for anyone else around me and definitely not for the future. Fighting makes me tired and I have been tired for a very long time. There simply wasn't the energy. Enter SARS-CoV-2, or more commonly known colloquially as COVID-19.

In April, I spent a lot of time on the couch learning Spanish. I began studying Spanish as far back as last December but it didn't become serious until late March. At first it was more an exercise to keep my mind sharp in the days of not being challenged. It evolved into something more, however - a desire to take myself to a different level of being human. As I've aged I have tended to become more "liberal" in my politics, whatever that means. It's a stupid label that has been bestowed upon certain members of society that believe we CAN protect the planet and still have profitable businesses, that we CAN have health care that is affordable and accessible to everyone. It takes hard work and sacrifice, but it CAN be done. I guess that makes me liberal. Or progressive. Or compassionate and human. This ravaging disease has opened parts of me that had been dormant for years. I want to be a better human. I want to start communicating with people out of desire, not necessity. To that end, I sent Easter cards to a number of people. That was five weeks ago and it's time to do it again. I want to start eating better, because I'm not going to be able to explore our crazy magnificent world when it reopens if I don't. There are depths of my personality that need to be exposed, through creativity and passion and love. It starts with love for myself, something I've neglected for far too long. I have my faults, some of which are pretty significant, but there is no reason that I can't be valuable to society beyond being a job creator and a tax payer. There is far too much emphasis put on the dollar, what we contribute to the economy and our humanity has suffered as a result. I know I'm certainly not the only person who has had these revelations over the past weeks and months, but I am fearful that there won't be enough of us to make lasting, meaningful change. And, pre-outbreak that would have been enough to shut me down. Now, it's just a thought in passing. I can't be concerned with how others may or may not change. I can change. It's up to me. It starts with little things that grow into big things. It starts with a journal entry like this that repeats ideas and concepts of years past, but now? This feels different.

There's this idea that as you approach the theoretical middle of your life you might reflect on things that have been, make some changes, buy a Porsche. I certainly can't afford a Porsche and if I had the equivalent amount of money to spend on something that excessive, I'd be traveling. Chance I'd not come back, either.

The thing with mid-life crises is that you have to make a broad assumption on how long you'd live. For me, right now, that would be 80. Good heavens, that's another ten presidential elections. No thanks! I digress - in that I may not live until I'm 80, but I certainly think it should be an option. For the last five years I've done pretty much nothing but obsess over that (insert foul language here) business. I have learned some things along the way, valuable lessons that may help me in my next career - but none of it adds up to enough to tip the scale in a positive direction. The negatives of letting the business run me far outstrip the positives.

So, where do I go from here? I don't exactly have a plan for the next phase of my life, but it's time to start putting some of those pieces into play. There is some 'stream-of-consciousness' music out right now that reminds me of late 2003 (I ended up failing out of the Coast Guard) and the winter of '09/'10 (when I almost killed myself at a bridge in Bellevue, Washington). Hold up now, I'm not in that kind of state, but there are similarities. Something important in my life was taken from me against my will in both instances, but this time the choice could very well be mine. There are some headwinds with the business that may force me into a decision sooner rather than later, but the decision is still likely to be mine.

Can I move into my 40's and start over? Again? Do I fall back to things that are familiar to me, or do I chart a new path? As I was going through my previous life-altering experiences I was convinced that I wouldn't make it through. I don't feel that way now. I have an expansive list of things I want to accomplish in life and I don't think that can be done here, or now. So, where do I go from here? Wednesday, I guess... but there are major changes on the horizon. Stay tuned.

It starts most nights about 8:30. There is a laugh challenge or something clever from Tom Dailey and the race to the bottom has begun. Tonight, I finished watching a pirated copy of Love, Simon (even though it comes out on dvd on Tuesday) and migrated to YT to listen to Strawberries and Cigarettes by Troye Sivan - which then turned into Years and Years, which morphed several times before settling into a four song spin with Evanescence. I know what happens next, because I’ve been here a hundred times. Or likely more.

I feel as trapped as I ever have. I believed that starting over in Chicago was going to be a good thing for me, but it’s ended up being easily the worst thing for me - and I’ve been through some stuff, so that’s saying something. Don’t get me wrong, there have been moments but not nearly enough to outweigh the bad. Since leaving Hawaii I’ve lost three relationships that were very valuable to me and replaced them with 60 pounds on my body. I’ve aged much more than the six years I have been here and find myself scrapping for little bits of happy. It’s a bad place to be.

I’d love to say I could talk to family about this, but God’s law and all. So, I bottle it all inside and try to deal the best I can but it’s no longer staying inside. I’ve been snippy with people, outright lying to others who want to put their nose where it doesn’t belong and feeling less worth as a person as I go.

There are some really difficult decisions coming in the near future and it will be less about what’s going on with the business and more about what the business has done to me. I don’t want to give up on it and really feel like I shouldn’t from an obligations standpoint, but it’s getting harder to breathe everyday. If I am forced to play the hand I’ve been dealt, the 3/7 off-suit tells me to fold.

For tonight though, it’s some upbeat Andain in my headphones and an attempt at sleep so tomorrow isn’t a walking disaster. Maybe that’s my clue to move on, yeah - when your goal for the next day is to not fall apart.

July 2016 seems so long ago. The theme at the annual IPIC convention this past year was "Fearless Reinvention". Yes, it's about not being afraid to change our business, but it has personal meaning for me too. In the more than five months that have passed since coming home I've done little towards accomplishing my reinvention. Perhaps there is a reason for that.

Meriam Webster defines reinvention as change so great that it appears to be new again. Therein lies my problem - I haven't been willing or as the case may be, able to make changes on such a significant level so as to make myself new again. It's time. It's long been time.

The turn of the new year is rather cliche for turning over a new leaf, setting goals and resolutions and celebrating the promise of the future. For me, it's my last chance to set things right. I've gained an unhealthy amount of weight. I've damaged family relationships, because those were the only ones left for me to destroy. I'd already been successful in killing off several amazing friendships. I'm scared of the future due to actions I've taken in the recent past, actions that could land me in bankruptcy or worse. Yes, it's time for fearless reinvention.

Today, after spending a fair amount of time recovering my apartment from six weeks of apathy, I spent about thirty minutes in the gym. It wasn't enough, but it was more than enough. Tomorrow will present another opportunity to go, and with time I can regain the form I once had. Rome wasn't built in a day. I also spent about $50 at the grocery store on healthy food. I shopped the outside of the store and kept my head down and eyes forward when I did transit the one aisle in the store I couldn't avoid. I've done this in the past. For a few days, or a couple of weeks but this feels different. This feels like a last shot at surviving. I know that sounds dramatic, but with where my emotions have been of late and my body giving me early warning signs, it may not be that much of a stretch. I downed 90 ounces of water today with a goal of 100 ounces tomorrow. I need to flush my system of toxins - including the parts of my brain that say I can't do this. Yes, it's time for fearless reinvention.

When I sit down again next January 1st to reflect on the year that has been, I want to write about all the good that has happened. I want this fearless reinvention - to change so significantly that I appear new again. It's time.

A couple of years ago chevrons broke onto the design scene as hot, trendy. Thing is, chevrons have been around a long time and just as sure, there will be a design element to come along and replace the chevron. In fact, it's probably already out and I'm just not aware that I'm already supposed to like it.

Patterns. They bring interest to something that needs attention. They put life into places where there was none. They're safe, reliable and repeating. You can take a reasonable amount of comfort in a pattern. If that wasn't true you wouldn't see so many of them when you visit the fabric store. Patterns. They can also grow stale and need to be replaced after time. I have favorite photographs that hang on my walls years later but when the bed spread gets replaced, it's usually an entirely new look. They're also predictable. Find the right pattern and you can safely predict where it will take you.

Holy $**t Nick, where are you going with this? Tonight. It's been an absolutely amazing month of May, arguably the most stable and happiest of my time in Illinois and almost certainly six to eight years prior. So what gives about tonight? It was another happy, productive day. One of the shelves in my bedroom closet collapsed and even that I was able to shrug off as something that just happens. Sucks, but it happens. I sat down at the table about an hour ago to download some new artwork for use in the store and of course it's Kevin. There was no trigger, no reasonable answer for why he might pop into my mind and immediately create that ache in my heart that I've never been able to conquer. I avoid the music we shared, I no longer look at the photos of when we were together and I don't revisit the journal entries that he prompted. I've made an honest effort to let go. It's been more than eight years for crying out loud. Why, then does this continue to happen?

I'm at a happy place in my life. I love where I live. Even though things could be financially stronger, the business is healthy and growing. I'm running on a regular basis, eating better, trying to strengthen my mind and heart daily. I'm becoming more patient, more forgiving, less angry. It's a good place to be. It's where I want to be.

If this were a Hollywood script or a walk through the woods, this is where the character you've been watching would fall to the knees and cry. Perhaps a sob, perhaps an anguished cry. Maybe it's a plea to the sky. I have one tonight too: either come back and come back entirely, or leave me in peace. I can't do this anymore.

My Livejournal is celebrating its' 15th birthday/anniversary today. It's incredible to think all that's happened over that time, including 1,297 different journal entries. Some of the highlights since the inception of the journal:

* I've visited all 50 states, 2 Canadian provinces and four countries in Europe. I've also lived in Ohio (twice), Washington (twice), Alaska, Hawaii and Illinois in that span.
* I've logged nearly 3,400 miles in my running shoes. Washington is my most run state, with 1,448 of those miles. I have yet to run a half marathon.
* I've held 8 jobs: Meijer, Max & Ermas, the US Coast Guard, Huffman's Market, Ritz/Wolf Camera, Starbucks (twice), Peapod and Click Incorporated.
* I've visited 10 national parks: Acadia, Olympic, Rainier, Cascades, Zion, Yosemite, Yellowstone, Glacier, Volcanoes and Haleakala.
* I've had only two phone numbers, but fourteen addresses.

It's been a wild fifteen years. I don't imagine my journal will be around to see thirty, and maybe not even twenty - but I also didn't expect that I'd still be logging in at fifteen. Cheers for sticking with me!

It's eight days into what is shaping up to be a superb May. My eating habits have changed, I've been to the gym 7 times in 8 days and as a result find my pants fitting a little looser in the thighs and hips. I'm on top of keeping my apartment tidy - laundry is done and folded, kitchen is clean and meals prepped for the upcoming week. The cherry tree outside my bedroom is in full bloom and gorgeous. Eight days, but so far so good.

With a couple of notable exceptions (my exit from Starbucks, my "mis-understanding" with the state regarding filing of paperwork), it's been a pretty good start to the year. It's almost like 2016 is the new 2012. Let's compare some stuff through the first four months and then some:

In 2012: I visited Kauai for three days, I spent lots of time running up and around Diamond Head, I got my wish and began preparations for my move to Chicago.

In 2016: I visited Ohio for three days (it's not Kauai, but family is important), I've spent lots of time getting my personal life in order, I'm still in Chicago. Add to the list, I'm now a board member with Independent Photo Imagers.

While I won't dwell on the financial headwinds I continue to face, I find myself in a place mentally and emotionally that has me content, prepared to continue fighting on with my challenges and optimistic for the future. Dare I say life is good right now? This journal hasn't experienced a great deal of happiness over its' life but maybe that's about to change. 16: it's the new 12.

It's just before 11pm as I sit down to write. A tumbler of DiSaronno on the rocks sits to my right, headphones are on and it feels like autumn 2004 all over again. Minus the late night runs out into rural Franklin County, of course. The feelings of emptiness that I have now are as present and real as they were then, and that's scary to me.

I'm on "vacation" this week, a misnomer in every sense that it only means I haven't driven in to Libertyville. I have a 40 hour week at Starbucks and taxes to prepare at the kitchen table. This evening, I downloaded a movie rental from iTunes. "Naked As We Came", a story about life and ultimately, death. I was fairly emotional by the time the credits rolled at the end but the tears remained locked up. I've become pretty good at keeping them locked up. The pain is there, just not the tears. Lately, there is a lot of anger too. Pain and anger.

It's taken me 20 minutes to get to this sentence in my journal entry. It mirrors my life: completely lost, disjointed. I don't feel that I have a strong, personal relationship with another soul on this planet and it would be almost impossible to describe what that does to your stomach. Perhaps if you had Mexican, Italian and Chinese food all on the same evening. That's my stomach pretty much all the time.

I'm probably closest to my dad. He listens to me rant on the phone for twenty minutes twice a week and he sends me the money I need monthly to continue my push towards "success", however that might be measured. I will miss him fiercely when he isn't around anymore - but I don't know anything about him, nor does he really know anything about me. Mom and I share trivialities - Survivor, the weather, her cat. We don't talk about things that are important to us because her blind faith has kept her eyes shut so tightly that she can't see how much she hurts me. It's led me to a point where I no longer consider myself to be a christian because it's inconceivable to me that we can be so hurtful to each other over things that don't matter. They don't matter. None of it. My sister, I think we're connected because both of our parents are still living.

So, that's what I've got. There's Click, but it's really just something to keep my days occupied. Yes, I want it to succeed. Yes, I'd love for that to be the only job I have for the rest of my life. BUT, the lack of human contact in my life has just gotten to the point that I really don't know that I want to carry on. That isn't to say I'm suicidal. Trust me, I've learned that lesson. When that day comes, I'm not going to write about it in my journal or reach out to friends on Facebook, it'll just happen. What I'm endeavoring to say is that the loneliness makes it hard to get up in the morning, to fight through the nerves in my stomach that I'm closer to a larger number of my customers than I am to my family, and that every single night I will go to bed alone.

And, just like every other night in the past week, past month, past year, I'm headed off to bed wondering how I can fix this. Things can be fixed. I can get back to being healthy again, and I want to be healthy again but I don't know how to get there and the struggle is even more real when you're alone. If there's a takeaway from tonight, it could very well be the closing line of the movie I watched:
"It's in those moments when we push through the fear we find new opportunities, even when we think it's too late".

Today was a day off, from both jobs. I did next to nothing all day in an effort to let my body rest from the abuse I put it through on a near daily basis. This afternoon, after an unplanned nap on my couch, I put in a movie. I've seen "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" before but it had been a while. I'm an emotional person and this is an emotional movie, so I ended up crying. It's been almost 14 years since the twin towers came down and it feels like my life has been on fast forward. There's a story on the screen that's worth being involved in, but it's happening so fast that all you get are blurry snippets. If you were to hit play at any point in the fast forwarding, you would undoubtedly hear the character most representing myself tell you about his ongoing loneliness. Fast forward again. More snippets. Coast Guard. Kevin. Hawaii. Click. Press play.

I don't know how to go about fixing any of this. Every movie has an ending, some better than others. Maybe my plot line is slow to develop, but I want people who see my story to step back or walk away and felt that their time with me was worthwhile. Nick's story is worth the price of admission.

It certainly isn't the case tonight. The popcorn is stale and I'm on sugar overload from the 40oz soda that cost me $7. I will go to bed unfulfilled. The good news is that tomorrow presents another opportunity to revise the script and I am hoping deep inside that it won't be long until I find someone to help me revise a script that right now has the makings of a Tarentino film. For now, it's time for another movie. "Cowboy Bebop" isn't in my collection yet, so I'll have to settle for "Bring It On".

Seriously. If that's the best I can do...

I love pizza. Truly. I could have it several times a week if it wasn't so bad for me. Now, imagine having pizza for every meal, every single day for months on end. When it's snack time, you get pizza. When you go home, you brush your teeth with pizza toothpaste. Too much? Yeah, that's how I feel about Click right now. It's been fourteen, sixteen, eighteen hours a day for months on end and I've about had my fill.

I absolutely love what I do and can't see myself doing anything else. I'm not gun shy about starting the business and honestly believe that we'll be profitable in the fairly near future. However, there are things about the overall environment at Click that are starting to make me queasy. I had a customer corner me this afternoon with pricing that supposedly came from my business partner. I wasn't privy to the original conversation, so I don't know which party is half-truthing me. Either way, the customer got mad at me that I wouldn't "honor" the price she may have been quoted (or quite possibly made up to see if I would bite). She took her project and left. That doesn't happen. When a customer goes to that amount of effort to put a project together, they may have misgivings about the price or the timeframe in which it would be completed - but they obviously want the project done. This is the first time that I can remember where a customer tightened their jaw, grabbed the box and wheeled out of the store I was working in.

It should go without saying that my world view is entirely affected by the way I perceive things happening around me. Right now, I'm on overload. I'm surprised it's taken this long, actually. Do I work too hard? Without question. I work this hard because I have so much at risk in this venture and I get irritated easily when others don't take this as seriously as I do. It's also difficult for me to say anything; to my co-workers, my friends or even my family, because I don't want to upset the apple cart. So, I lay in bed in a living environment where I'm uncomfortable and watch YouTube videos with noise cancelling headphones while I try and shut off the spin inside my head. It often takes several hours. Tonight, it's several hours and a livejournal entry. I'm still not entirely sure that I've worked out enough stress tonight to make tomorrow morning pleasant.

I have an 8am appointment at the store with an insurance agent. A 9am appointment with a health care specialist. 10am, the website people. On Tuesday, it's the Mayor's Breakfast. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess the menu for breakfast both days: PIZZA.