A Work In Progress...

October 28^th, Wednesday evening.

On my way home from work today as I sat in my car, I heard on the radio a song that I had not heard since I was a teenager. I distinctly remember buying the CD from a store in downtown Chicago while on a trip with my family. My father had given my thirty dollars to do whatever I wanted while we were on vacation; walking the busy streets with my mother and father behind I saw a store with posters covering all the windows and in every poster was a face of someone who wanted my attention. Every face was different some had men with make-up under their eyes, others with beards and long hair. One had a woman sitting at a piano with her eyes closed who seemed at once both defiant and at peace. Another was a group of five men, one sitting at the drums with his arms raised while the others standing behind their instruments and lights were marking the stage as they played. Another was a single man playing the saxophone wearing a suit and tie. Another was a man standing in a corner holding his guitar with a microphone coming out of the top while the man looks down and away. The one that I could not help staring at was of an angry man with his acoustic guitar slung to the left as he flipped off the camera. The recklessness and brashness of it intrigued me. That this was someone famous, someone who people wanted to listen to was almost too much for me to comprehend. I knew that what he was doing was something that I was not supposed to do and when I realized that my parents were close behind I quickly looked away and told my parents that I wanted to go in here. I left there with one CD a blue album with a song called Buddy Holly. That record began a shift in me, or perhaps more accurately was indicative of something already happening that I was just beginning to become aware of. This was the first time that I did something outside of what was expected of me; that I took a step towards becoming independent.

Hearing that song reminded me of those feelings. That song, while it is nothing special in itself, is special to me because it marks for me the time when I began to choose and not let someone else choose for me.

Today at work Mr. Downs checked in on me to see how things were going. While this is expected of him to do every year, I still feel a since of eagerness for it to be over. He told me that everything was fine and to keep up the good work. I was glad once it was over. He said that I would get a copy of his form in a couple of days and that I need to return it to him signed. I have not had any shortages in my drawer in over six months and have set up six new loans this year. I know that I have nothing to worry about, but all the same I will be glad to see his report.

A Work In Progress...

October 27th, Tuesday

After a long day my dad liked to listen to music and drink jack and sprite. Tom Waits was one of his favorites after a particularly hard week. When he thought we were doing something else he would hold his glass and sing along quietly. I remember after every sip his lower lip would suck the whiskey that his mustache held on to. He would lift his glass with one hand and act like he was directing the band with the other. Whenever I could I would watch him and wonder. My dad would never let me see him like this and my Mom would call me back to the other room if she ever caught me watching. My parents were good people; my Dad was my hero growing up. I would always tell people this because even as a kid I sought people’s approval and that always impressed people. I knew that was a good answer when people asked me by their response. Ever since I was little I have been pretty good at reading people and having a good idea at what they want to hear. Call it a gift if you want.

I like to drink whiskey; I am pretty sure that I am not an alcoholic but I do like to drink alone. I have never gotten drunk and I think to be an alcoholic you would have to have been drunk at least onece; but I lie about how much and when I drink.

“Everything is going to change when you have a baby. Your life will never be the same. You have no idea how hard it will be. Get ready to not sleep. Your life will be pretty crazy for now on, that is just part of being a parent. I am so excited for you.” All of these have been said to me in the last few months from people with big smiles on their faces. People have a funny way of expressing their joy about us having a baby. When I hear people say this sort of thing, I tend to smile and nod/laugh while inside I am thinking, “What are you trying to tell me?”