The Self Absorbed Man in Isolation: Act II

I suspect those who grew up in the American Mid-West were in a similar situation: During winter months I spent endless hours in front of the almighty television. I'll go into further detail in future posts what shows had the biggest impact, but let's just say I ran the gamut from daytime PBS to 80's prime time. There were times my obsession was bad enough I would play sick just to stay home and watch TV. Sad in retrospect.

I was never really comfortable around groups of friends; I've always been a one-on-one kinda guy. And when there was an individual friend who was spending time with me, I was devoted to the one friend unwaveringly. Always been loyal like that. Got me fucked over a few times. I make "best friends" easy.

During summer months when school was out, my parents would send me traveling to visit with family for weeks on end. Looking back now, I suppose they were trying to save me from additional long stretches of solo time. They would plop me on a bus and send me to Brooklyn, New York to spend a few weeks with my Grandparents (on my mother's side) or upstate NY (Monroe to be precise) for my Dad's parents. They did their best to keep me occupied: Both sets of Grandparents had huge gardens. I spent many an afternoon pulling weeds. My Brooklyn Gramps had grape vines growing in his back yard. I was in charge of the annual wine-making. He'd give me loose instructions and once everything was fermenting in sealed bottles, he'd give me a glass of some previous year's vintage (I was too young to know any better, but I hear his wine was like turpentine).

Brooklyn Grampa and my Great Uncle (Dad's Uncle) Sonny (real name: Sylvester) were painters by hobby. They both worked in oils and attempted to pass on the skill. I actually took to it quite well although my patience got the better of me later in life. I do pen-and-ink illustrations now as a hobby. Despite some basic instruction and pointing in the right direction, all of the above activities were done alone. Yup, despite best intentions I still ended up in isolation - only now I was in a strange locale with no friends around or people my age. For the years between age 9 and 16, I spent my summer vacations with Senior Citizens.

It's funny: as I write this I realize how my wife is forever saying "God, You're like an old man!!!" I guess those summers really influenced my temperament and interests. More on that later...

Act III will be a study in how these early experiences affected my relationships and work life. I'm pretty pumped to see what comes of this, so expect an update within a week.

The Self-Absorbed Man in Isolation

At the risk of being perpetually self analytical, I'm gonna tell you a little about my childhood:

I was born in upstate New York. My family lived there until I was 6 or 7 when we moved to north eastern Connecticut; Woodstock to be precise. I can't speak for other places as I only grew up where I did. But it seems to me there is something unique about that corner of the world. The populace is very aware of their history - a history riddled with superstition and witch burning. At all times you are surrounded by thick vegetation and dark forest and are told early on to be in by dusk.

Woodstock also prides itself on having the last "active" one-room schoolhouse. Every year in public elementary school each grade spent a few weeks in there. You were required to dress in late 1800s period garb, learned to write with ink and quill and played all those colonial games that you see in reenactment movies. Thinking back sometimes it feels like I have a vision of a previous life: the happy, young Pilgrim boy who one day disappeared into the woods never heard from again.

My parents rented a big, yellow cube of a house. It was huge. We rented from the owner of Woodstock's (at the time) only manufacturing facility. They made foot switches for sewing machines among other things. The owner was an eccentric rich woman in her mid to late forties. Her husband had died and left her everything including the mansion on the hill, the switch factory a small boy scout camp, a 3 star restaurant and our yellow house - all of which were on the same thousands of acres piece of land I considered my personal playground.

My one sibling is my sister. I've mentioned her before - the one who had the accident. At this time she was pretty and popular and had no interest in hanging out with her geeky little brother. So I spent the majority of my time alone. I had friends; I wasn't an outcast or anything. But living in a place where it was a hike to get to the neighbor's house left me and my friends at the mercy of our parents. Geographically challenged, I'd like to say.

I learned very quickly to entertain myself, a talent I possess to this day. I spent endless hours tromping around the woods by myself - scouting locations for GI Joe adventures and building forts and shit. I spent a lot of time inside my own head.

Let's us consider this the end of act 1. I can't spend all day reminiscing... The bills must be paid and stuff. But now I've gone and started, so finish I must. Act 2 soon to come.

It'll get worse before it gets better...

So it seemed like I was really on a roll there for a bit. The family was doing pretty well (despite the troubles trying to get pregnant again), work was coming together, the cursed car hasn't had any issues in a while... smooth sailing. And then it happened: Another role change at work. In addition to the current work load.

I am a supervisor of 25 people on a manufacturing shop floor. All the personnel issues, the Quality problems, efficiency, training - the list goes on. Now the fucking "scheduler" who organizes the orders through production starts really flaking out on the job: aggressive, confrontational behavior, delusions of power beyond his role. He was acting as a Production Manager, not a "scheduler." On top of his shit attitude, we have been taking lots of late orders and falling behind. He gets taken out/I get put in.

So let me get this straight: Full-time Managing position and full-time Scheduling position. OK, no pressure. Just the weight of the corporation on my shoulders. If I fuck up, a global organization fuck up. Millions of dollars are at stake with my every decision. No shit.

Me being me I have reacted by putting in more hours. 12 hours minimum. Luckily I have managed to maintain my "hourly" standing. Not salary. I work more, they pay more.

Little bit of a strain on the home front while I get settled. Every day I get a little closer to grasping "The Big Picture." It'll come. But today: I'm stressed.

As you know, I just write about the things around me. Others can write of current events, 80's toys or mutant bunnies. I have no format. I just throw down what comes. If it means anything to anyone - great. If it's just a bunch of garbled shit - sorry.

I've missed writing about all the crap I do on a daily. It's a nice release at these stressful times. So I'll be posting more often. Assuming anyone still checks in here, bear with me. It'll lighten up eventually. But I think it'll get worse before it gets better.