Letter to My Father

Most of the people who read this blog are probably already aware. But, for those of you that aren't, my father Edward A. Morris (Alex) passed away about a week ago.

He was battling multiple health issues and finally succumbed to colon cancer on April 26th at approximately 12:15pm. He died in his bed at the age of 61.

I've been avoiding posting anything on here about his condition out of respect for him and the rest of our family. He was a proud man and wouldn't like the world to see how his condition effected him. 

He was diagnosed with terminal colon cancer last October. So, we have known this was coming for quite some time. I have discovered that knoweldge can be a double edged sword. Yes, it gave us time to talk and settle things. It was not a surprise that caught everyone off guard. But, we also had to watch his decline. We had to watch as the his pain became increasingly and unceasingly unbearable. And in the end, it still came as a shock. No amount of preperation could have truly prepared me for the shock of his death. There are always things left unsaid, frustrations unresolved.

I loved and will always love my father. He was my role model and I don't feel like I was done learning from him. And, I will miss him more than my feeble attempts at writing can possibly convey.

Nobody is perfect and as you grow older, most peoople start to see thair parents as people instead of just seeing them as "mom and dad". I was no different. I started to learn who Alex was and was starting to seperate him from the persona of Dad. I was not ready to lose him. I don't know that I ever will be.

I'm sad, I'm hurt, I'm angry.

Earnest Hemingway once said, "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." So, with Earnest in mind, here goes nothing.

Dear Dad,

I love you. It's been less than a week since you've been gone and I already miss you. I have to constantly remind myself that you're gone and that you're not coming back. There is no more, "Dad's going to hate this when he gets home," because you're not coming home. And, that may be the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with.

Until recently, I sometimes took it for granted that you would always be there for me. I assumed that you would be an ear to listen or someone to help catch me when I fell. I knew about your health problems and on an intellectual level I knew there was a good chance you would never live to see 2015. But, on an emotional level, I guess I always felt like these were temporary setbacks. These were all things that we would get through and be able to laugh about it after. Here we are, at the portion after the disease, and you're not here anymore to laugh at things with me. I miss you.

I know we didn't always agree on everything. You thought I was young and callous. I thought you were old and naïve. But I always knew, or at least felt, that everything you did was for the greater good of your family and friends. Your naïveté was born from a desire to see the best in people. You had a good many great friends and family members in your life that would never intentionally do you harm and although you had encounters with people who wanted nothing else, you never let that color your viewpoint of people as a whole.

You built great things. You had many great accomplishments and great friends. You have touched the lives of many people, even outside of our family. Our family and your friends will wax poetic about how great you were and how much you helped everyone you met. And for that I'm thankful. It helps to validate my viewpoint that you were a good man.

But, none of that changes the fact that you're gone. Believing you WERE a good man does little to console me in the face of the fact that you are no longer. 

I have modeled much of my person after you. I have tried to take all the good things you had to offer and make them part of myself while recognizing some of your faults and forgiving them because you were only a man. Nobody is perfect. 

I know that I am not yet the man you wanted me to be. I can only hope that I wasn't too much of a disappointment. But I want you to know that I am not done growing. I am not done trying to be the best man that I know how to be, that you taught me to be. Every little boy grows up with a desire for validation from his father. I am no different.

Thank you for all that you were and all that you taught me. I want you to rest easy. You're not in pain anymore. Although myself and my brothers still have a lot of growing to do, I have faith in our abilities. I hope you did too. 

Death is an inevitable part of life. But, I was not ready for yours. And I will forever think that you deserved a better end than you recieved. But, life isn't fair. And I want you to rest assured that I will continue to strive for better, for myself, for my brothers, for my friends, and for my family. 

I am going to try hard to remember you for the man that you were for the first 28 years of my life, not the last two. You were better than your end.

I love you dad. You will be missed. If I can be half the man you were, I'll consider my life a success.

With tears and sadness,

Cody

P.S. I know this letter could never convey all the things I want to say or the emotions that I'm feeling. But, it's a start.

Mammaw

I was at my father's house today. We were reminiscing over old times and going through a stack of old papers, documents, newspaper clippings, etc... that he has collected over his lifetime. Some of them were amusing, some of them were nostalgic, some were thought provoking, and some of them were insanely uninteresting to me. 

This is an activity that my father and other family members and I have been known to do on occasion.  Most of the time it only spurs conversations that the members of the nostalgia party would be interested in. Today, however, I was struck with a thought that might be a little more universal.

Tucked into my grandfather's old bible was some yellowed letters written by his pastor, a few comic clippings from various newspapers and other random roadsigns you'll find on memory lane. The thing that fluttered out from among its pages that caused me pause was a picture of my grandmother.

I never knew my grandfather on my dad's side. He died many years before I was born and is not even spoken of very much amongst my family members. He and my father had a tumultuous relationship during my father's youth and I've only ever caught glimpses into the man that made the man that made me.

My grandmother, on the other hand, is a completely different story. She lived within 6 blocks of every place I lived before I grew up and moved away from home. And for most of my life, she lived across the street. I could see her house from my bedroom window. Claire Morris was her name if you don't want to go by what my brothers and I called her, Mammaw (or Mammaw Claire if we were speaking about her in the third person).

Don't get me wrong, my parents raised us. But Mammaw was always across the street and we spent many days hanging out over at her house, playing in the basement and out on the seemingly hundred year old swing set in her back yard. 

Mammaw was a kind and giving old bird and was unintentionally hilarious. But, she had her quirks. She smoked Camel non-filters and drank Jim Beam almost up until the day she died at the age of 88 in 2006. 

Her death was hard on me, as is the passing of any grandparent is on a grandchild. Her service was one of the few times in my life I've seen my father cry and that's an image I'll never forget. 

But, as I picked her picture up off of the table top this afternoon I smiled. I realized that her memory had become a happy one for me, no longer a point of sadness. I remembered her for calling the radio and "idiot box" and referring to my uncle as being "rather large in girth." I remembered her for the half stale spearmint gum she always had in her purse and those gross, sugar coated orange slice candies in a bowl on her counter. I remembered the popsicles she always had in her fridge and the living room in her house that nobody had set foot in for years. 

Mammaw's freezer was old and as such had to be defrosted regularly. In the automatic ice box, a few times a year, was a giant block of ice that had been individual cubes at one point but had melted and refrozen enough times that it had become one solid block of ice that was completely useless for her Jim Beam. As children, we would take this block of ice out to her black tar driveway and smack it around with hockey sticks as it melted on the million degree blacktop. Sometimes it's the simple things in life.

I remembered Mammaw for how she took care of my brothers and our friends. She was even referred to as Mammaw by my best childhood friend. He and his girlfriend went to visit her in Florida one spring break without any of our actually family members even being there. 

She was Mammaw Claire, everyone's Mammaw.

As I looked at the picture of Mammaw, yellowed and curled with age, I remembered all of the great things about her and the great times we had at her house and I smiled. The memory of her death is still painful but the memories that I have of her are overall positive. At this moment, I wondered when that paradigm had shifted. When did the mention of my grandmother spur memories of the good times and not memories of her passing?  

Apparently it's true that time heals all wounds. I'm glad that I can think of her and remember all the wonderful memories I have of her without first thinking about how she is no longer around to help create new memories. And, it gives me hope and solace that any trials life throws at us, given enough time, will become memories without pain. 

Hopefully the pain from all the struggles we go through on a daily basis will eventually fade and leave behind only the happy memories of the people we love whom have endured the hardships with us. 

Claire McGannon Morris 

1917-2006

RIP

I Love You Mammaw

-Cody

Times They Are A Changing

Hello all! Can I use the word all when there will probably only be about 10 views of this page? Oh well, I'm going for it. ALL!

If any of you read my sad sack 30th birthday blog then you've probably realized there are some changes going on in my life. But, there are also a plethora of things happening, often more important things, with the people in and around my life. It's been a busy couple of weeks and I apologize for not getting a couple more posts out recently.

First, I'd like to take a second to congratulate my youngest brother and his new wife on their marriage. Dylan and Kristin tied the knot last weekend! Congrats guys, I'm sure you will make each other very happy. I couldn't be more proud of you.

Their wedding was an interesting affair. It was an outdoor ceremony set in the early evening. The venue was gorgeous with the exception that Mother Nature decided to bless us with 36 hours of continuous rain. The clouds would tease us and act as if the rain was going to stop just long enough for the ceremony until the wind blew and another downpour let loose.

The people I felt worst for were the bridesmaids and the spectators. As a groomsman I was fortunate enough to be wearing a tuxedo. For those of you who have never worn a rented tuxedo, it provides about 5 layers of protection against the outside elements. This is a great feature if it's cold or rainy (as was this case this time) but leaves the wearer a tad uncomfortable in even the most moderate climates. The bridesmaids and many of the spectators were wearing dresses with their hair done up in classic wedding styles (strapless dresses and curly hair). This is not exactly an optimal set up for a rainy day.

But, Dylan and Kristin soldiered through and the ceremony ended up being a rousing success. I had a damn good time with the whole thing.

The reception was also outside, albeit under a tent, and the ground was somewhat squishy. The speeches were a bit haphazard, the cake started to melt, and the bar was a little empty. However, the DJ was a good one and the dance floor was packed all night. If any of you know Dylan, this shouldn't come as much of a surprise.

All in all pretty much everything that can go wrong with a wedding did, but it was still a hell of a time! Dylan and Kristin made it through the ceremony and seemed immensely happy at the eventual outcome. They are currently road tripping randomly around the country and I wish them all the best in the future.

Three days after the ceremony my second youngest brother (Cullen) and his girlfriend (Heather) embarked upon a round the world trip. When I say "around the world" I don't mean Mexico-Canada-Home. I mean they are planning on being gone multiple years and visiting 22+ countries throughout Europe, Asia, and Africa. You can follow, and I recommend that you do, their travel blog at acoupleofwanderingwanderers.blogspot.com.  (Cullen is at least as talented, and probably more so, of a writer as I am. He can be very entertaining)

As chaotic as it has been from the outside looking in on these couple of events, I can't even imagine how much stress and fervor has been happening behind closed doors for those two couples.

In the matter of 3 days one of my brothers got married and another left the country indefinitely. I wish all of them the best of luck on their very different adventures. It truly won't be there same around here. In many ways I am jealous of both Cullen and Dylan but, I'll try to be adult and not call them assholes......assholes!

Oh, I almost forgot. Today is Dylan's 24th (I think) birthday. Happy birthday brother!

30th Birthday Blog Cliche pt 2

The amount of responses I've had to the first post in this sad little series took my by surprise. I didn't become an overnight celebrity but I've heard from a good many of you. Thank you for your responses and well wishes....without one single hit of hate mail (weird...I'm probably just not popular enough yet).

I feel like I should preface part 2 by saying that I don't feel like I'm in the worst situation in the world. There are millions of people who have it much worse than I do and to whom these stories and circumstances seem trivial. I am aware of that; however, it doesn't change how these circumstances have altered my life.  This post is about the regrets I have and introspection that I've gained through the last couple of years with regards to my own life. It is not an attempt to one-up or overshadow those who have real problems.

This is meant to be a catharsis for myself and hopefully an interesting story for you to read. I am focusing on my involvement in these stories more than those of the people around me. This is not intended to cast blame or judgment upon them. Any attempt to do so would be unjust. I don't feel that it is my place to tell their side of it. I can only tell mine.

We left off with me moving into my father's house and starting my new position at my new store.

As you can probably imagine I didn't get a great night's sleep the night of the move. I left my mattress with A and had to resort to sleeping on a 20 year old twin size mattress, that had been stored in the garage, on the floor of my father's spare bedroom. But, I tried to wake up, put on a brave face and show up to my new store to meet my new GM (for the first time) ready to work.

My first few days were uneventful at work and not worth talking about. I didn't feel I was giving it my best, but it was all I had left. I was destroyed emotionally and mentally, and those two growing neurosis were taking a toll on me physically. It was an amazingly tough period of time for me. I pride myself on my mental toughness and my use of logic and reason. I was unable to be logical, or reasonable, and that in itself was enough to drive me insane. I felt like I couldn't get control of my brain or my emotions regardless of how I tried. The more I tried to control myself, the worse my breakdowns became. I felt out of control.

To this point, I would like to take a second to thank J for all the help he gave me during this time. He has been a great friend to me and although there was little he could do to lessen the pain he took great care in listening to me rant and rave to the point of insanity. He provided a sounding board for the relentless onslaught of anger, and pain that was raging through me.

I should also probably take a second to apologize to J and to the other people around me for being an unbearable prick during this time period. I'm sure it wasn't easy to listen to me go on and on and on about A and how miserable I was and how much I blamed and hated her.  It was hard to leave the topic alone when even things that had nothing to do with us reminded me of her. Things that tied us together were cause for an almost instant outburst. I tried to not put our mutual friends in a position of having to choose sides. I hope that I succeeded in limiting that as much as possible and if I did a poor job, I apologize. Given my shattered mental state I'm, in retrospect, sure that I did a poor job of this.

There were a few things in which I began to take shelter from the hailstorm that was my brain. J was an immense help. My father and brother were also of great help. They listened patiently while I bitched and moaned and it was my brother that first got me back into working out. I took refuge in the gym which turned out to be a great source of release for me. I took to killing myself night after night under the fluorescent lights as a way to channel the anger. And, I'm happy to say, I managed to lose almost 30lbs in the matter of a few months. The weight loss was almost a by-product but it has helped me get some self confidence back. And although my progress has slowed dramatically of late, it is a habit that I have continued throughout the last year. A habit that I plan on refocusing my resolve on in the future.

 Baby steps....

But, the one thing that helped me more than any other was the re-emergence of an old flame into my life. I don't know exactly what made me call her. I only know that it turned out to be the best decision that I had made in recent history. She was a god send. She made me feel wanted again. She did more to restore my confidence than any amount of weight loss could ever. She was going through some tough times of her own and was more than understanding at my moodiness and never once got impatient with me when I spoke of A, which was often.

She helped me through an extremely tough time in my life. Regardless of how things are now, and what arguments and problems we may have, I can never thank her enough for that.

It could have been the start of something great, but once again I got in my own way. I knew I was vulnerable and that a single word from A could send me spiraling downward once again. And as such I viewed it as unfair to try to give too much of myself to (for the sake on continued anonymity, let's call her Q) Q. I was trying to be fair to her. I didn't want to risk hurting the person whom had done so much for me as of late. I knew that A had to but say the word and I would've gone running right back to her side, leaving Q alone.

In the interim Q and I had a great couple of months together. We laughed and joked more easily than I had in months. Even when A and I were still together, by the end, there was no laughter. Q and I went places together and did things. My family loved her and she got along great with everyone else in my life. Work was getting better, and at my new location I wasn't hating my job as much. It wasn't consuming me as it had at the Castleton location. I was starting to feel better about everything. However, I still continued to warn Q that I was damaged and that I didn't think I could be trusted with her heart.

 I was trying to do the right thing. I was trying to protect her, although I was simultaneously being selfish by not either letting her go or giving her more of myself. I knew I couldn't let her go, but I didn't think I could give her what she deserved. Ironically, it was this guarded stance that I took with her that ended up driving us apart. And I didn't know how much I was going to miss her until we too fell apart.

She had taken my advice, much to my chagrin, and kept her guard up. Finally it became too much and we split.

We still talked on a regular basis but the relationship had become strained. We couldn't understand each other anymore. And it wasn't until I was starting to lose her that I realized how much I wanted her to stay. I tried to express this to her but all she heard was me telling her to keep her distance, to not trust me. Once again, in a matter of months, I was driving myself crazy because I had lost someone whom I had so recently had. (Jesus, that's a terrible way of putting it, but I'm feeling at a loss of any better way of describing it)

At this point A had become part of my past. She was no longer part of my future, and I didn't want her to be. I can't claim that I didn't still think about her. But the emotions surrounding her departure were fading. I was moving on. There was only Q, and regardless of my past mistakes I was going to win her back.

It took months of calls and texts and arguments but I finally got the chance to get her back into my life. Around the beginning of the new year we began dating again. And just as if we had never stopped, we picked up right where we left off and things were great. Amazingly so. Our past transgressions upon one another were forgiven and forgotten.

During the time of our separation I had been given the news that I was to be transferred yet again, back to the Castleton location. This would have been good news except that it was another overnight notice on a transfer for which I was given no compensation. Back to Castleton I went. Back to the long hours, the stress, the chaos.

For those of you who don't know (most of you, I'd imagine) the difference between the Castleton and Plainfield stores is massive. Castleton does roughly 7x the sales and 2x the deliveries of Plainfield, yet has the same amount of employees. Makes sense right? Welcome to corporate America. The pressure on the management staff from the store itself and from the GM of that location is unimaginable. I could write volumes about the stress and pressure of that store, but trust me, you wouldn't want to read it. Suffice it to say that it sucks....bad.

But throughout the transition Q and I were able to maintain our relationship. We made time for each other whenever possible. We made it work even though time and distance were against us once again. For a short few months things were great. Until, once again, I made a mess of things.

Work was manageable, and Q and I were doing well. I even managed to get approved for a mortgage and buy the house that I had been striving after for the last two years. The only problem was that in my desire to get my own house, I over-extended myself financially. I wasn't over leveraged greatly, but enough that things became a little tight. I was still adjusting to a single income household when I had been living in a dual income household for so long. In my haste, I may have made a mistake.

Q and I were doing well but had only been back together for a couple of months and with our tumultuous recent history I didn't feel comfortable asking her to move in. But, as a financial stop gap, I needed a roommate. Unfortunately, my social circle had been cut down to almost nothing over the last few years and with my brothers all having steady living situations I was left without many options for a roommate.

I made a decision and asked a female friend of mine if she wanted to move in. I knew Q would be.....unhappy.....with the decision but I made it anyway. Now, some of you are thinking that I'm the stupidest person in the world right about now and you're probably right. In my defense, I didn't even view the roommate as female. She was just a roommate. She was someone to pay half the bills whom I would rarely see because of our conflicting work schedules. As you might guess, Q didn't see it that way.

Once I realized how much the decision I made was going to hurt our relationship I called said potential roommate and we agreed that it would probably be a better decision for her to not move in. I tried to stop it, I tried to repair the damage I had done. But, it was too late. She left me again.

There is much more I could say on this topic. I could go on for days about my though processes of why I didn't ask Q to move in and how a female roommate didn't seem like a big deal to me. You're are going to make and keep the opinions you develop regardless of what I say.  I saw/see it as a financial decision. Most of the people who have heard this story only hear the word FEMALE and can't see it any other way.

Q and I fell apart quickly after the roommate debacle. I was once again, due in large part to the decisions I had made, alone. I had pissed away another relationship because I can't seem to let my emotions have their say. Like I said, I pride myself on my logic and self control. I couldn't justify taking a leap of that magnitude and because I was so gun shy, I let an amazing woman walk right out of my life.

So there I was, 8 months removed from my break up with A and I'm enduring yet another break up with Q.  As in any situation like this there are a number of small factors that add up to the sum total but the only common denominator is.....me.

As a result, I was left with work as my only relationship. I redoubled my efforts and became more and more engrossed in a job that I held with great disdain because it was all I had left. I became dependent upon the thing that I, deep down, blamed for ruining my chances at a most of what life has to offer. Much as an alcoholic sinks deeper into the bottle as a refuge from the life that the bottle had ruined, I dove headlong into my work.

As I took on more and more responsibilities, my co-managers became more and more dependent upon me. They took time off, and were called away to run other locations leaving me the sole person in charge of a 10 million dollar per year store. To make matters worse, the other assistant at the Castleton location put in his notice and left the company. M was the only person I felt I could count on to help lessen the load. He was a good co-worker and a good friend. The store never really recovered from losing him.

Even after M left I would not admit that the work load was too much. I would never say that I needed help or that there were things I couldn't do. I couldn't bring myself to show, what I considered to be, weakness. I could do it...all of it...bring it on.

Over the summer I briefly dated a girl who was sweet and funny and who could cook like nobody's business. But, it too fell apart in short order. I was married to my work and, in all honesty, had yet to fully give up on Q. It had been months since we had seen each other but I couldn't forget her, as much as I tried. Once again I threw myself into my work.

I allowed myself to be taken advantage of out of some sense of responsibility to my position. Somewhere out there are people who were getting very rich off of the work that I had done. All I know is that it wasn't me. Don't get me wrong, they took advantage of my ability and my willingness to take on any task. But, a good portion of the blame falls on me. I allowed them to do so.

Regardless of fault or blame the outcome was the same. Work was becoming too much. It had taken too much out of me and given too little in return. I had given my life to my job and in return I was over worked, and lied to. I had been given rave reviews from every GM that I had worked for and from most employees that had worked for me. I was constantly told that I was being groomed to take over my own store. I was fed line after line and after 18mo of ridiculous hours and stressful working conditions I was finally promised an 8% raise....and was promptly given 5%.

I had taken a pay cut to take the managerial position. I had been passed up on my original raise (because I was still "too new" at the position), and had been transferred twice without compensation. I had worked more hours and taken on more responsibility than anyone in our market (Assistant or GM). A 60 hour work week had become my light week and I was rarely given both, if any, days off. I played the good soldier for 18 months and I was rewarded by being promised a raise of $3,000 and given a raise of $2,400. Our store made a net profit of over $130,000 in the month of March alone yet they couldn't pony up the complete, if meager, raise that I was promised.

I'm not saying I was a perfect manager. There were things that I needed to work on. Some of those things needed quite a lot of work. But, at the risk of sounding arrogant, I was a damn good manager and I worked as hard as anyone at that company ever has and I was rewarded with lip service and more work.

Who knows? Maybe I'm just playing the martyr. Maybe there's something about my personality that doesn't translate well to retail management.

It became painfully apparent that I needed to make some changes in my life. My personal life was a wreck and my professional life was becoming the butt of a bad joke. So I set out to find a new job and begin a new chapter of my life. The current one had become stale.

I looked back at the mistakes I had made over the twilight of my 20s and decided that if changes were to be made they needed to start with me. It is a hard thing, to look back at yourself and your decisions and attempt to view them in the daylight, to turn them over and look at the pot marks and imperfections. It is tough to admit your mistakes and tougher still to view them with the honesty it takes to recognize that a change must be made. It is a bitter pill to swallow but without introspection how can you hope to change?

Change is not something that happens overnight. It is a tough and arduous process. Life is not a fairy take or a Lifetime movie. You don't wake up one morning to find that it was all a dream and that your actual life is everything you had hoped and wished for. There are no Snow Whites or Prince Charmings.

Life is about the choices you make. If you want to change, makes sure that every decision is one that brings you one step closer to the person you want to be. Regardless of what anyone says, the most powerful person in your life is you.

I have realized recently that I cannot blame other people for my shortcomings. I cannot place the responsibility of my life on anyone but me. I have found a new job and have started the long road to becoming the man that I want to be. I'm sure I will continue to stumble and make mistakes. I can only hope that the mistakes I make will not be repeats of the ones I have made in the past.

Thank you to everyone who has had an impact on my life, both positive and negative. Without you I wouldn't be the person I am today. I am flawed. But, I strive to be better.

So here's to the passing of the 3rd decade of my life. Cheers. This will be the last time I look upon the mistakes I've made with scorn or regret. I only hope that I will learn from them and strive to make myself a better person for that. My 20s are coming to a close, my life is not.

#pretentiousmuch?

Thank you for reading. I hope it kept you entertained.

Cody Morris

30th Birthday Blog Cliche pt1

In the tradition of all great bloggers everywhere I am writing a post about my impending 30th birthday.  In the tradition of all great egos I cleverly labeled this part 1. I don't know that there will be a part 2 but in the interest of giving my self enough space to wax poetic and cry on the proverbial shoulder of the blogosphere (Holy hell, my computer just auto-corrected my spelling of 'blogosphere'. Has that really become a real word?) I figured that I should give myself the option of posting multiple volumes on this particular subject.

In exactly 8 days I will be leaving my 20s behind. Now, with the long life expectancy of your average American male this isn't quite the milestone that it used to be. It is still, however, a big deal. Especially to those of us who look back on the last few years with such a long list of regrets. Regrets that are exacerbated by the amount of drinking, smoking, having casual sex with general disdain for taking care of myself that I have endured throughout my 20s and have undoubtedly dropped my life expectancy into the 50s.

People may read this and say, "It's too early to be having a mid life crisis." To those people I say,
"Prove it!"

My early twenties were spent in college. That should say enough. I went to class (some). I worked (some). But, I spent the majority of my time at parties, bars, and other social gatherings. I graduated with basically the bare minimum requirements. My grades weren't terrible but let's say that I wasn't exactly inundated with job offers or invitations to graduate school upon my graduation. Even with all that in mind, I wouldn't say my college career was wasted.

I made some invaluable friends during my time at ISU. Many of them I am still in contact with and remain close to even today. My high school career was one of tortured anonymity and as such college was a much needed switch. I honed my social skills and got to the point where there was almost nowhere I could go in my college town without knowing someone else who was there. It was great, and comfortable, and kept the loneliness at bay.

To those of you whom I met at ISU or through other sources while I was in school, you know who you are, and I want you to know you mean the world to me. In the interest of leaving you anonymous, on the off chance that someone actually reads this post, I'll only use letters to indicate your names. And if you're clever I bet you can identify yourself. So, to: JF, KC, EE, MS, TF, BC, CS, MB, JG, TJ, AL; I just want to say thank you, and I love you all. To those of you who I may have left off of this list, please don't take it as a slight. Many of us have lost contact but the additions you've made to my life cannot be measured.

After graduation I moved back to Indianapolis and into an apartment with my girlfriend. And right around this time is where I've begun to really second guess many of the decisions I've made. I do not regret moving in with her, what I regret is the way I handled the situation which, with some other factors, led to the eventual demise of our relationship.

We moved to Indy together. She was able to find a decent job (that could eventually mold itself into a career) fairly quickly. I wasn't quite so fortunate. It took months for me to even find a job as a waiter. The financial aspect of the move wasn't a huge strain. I had enough savings (mostly left over from daddy's money) at the time to float us for a few months even without gainful employment for myself. After about 9 or 10 months of working as a server at a mid-range Italian restaurant I was given an opportunity as a salesperson at a low-end furniture store. My brother worked there and was in the good graces of the GM at the time which basically allowed me to walk in to a job that I was totally unqualified for.  I went from working 25-35 hours a week making almost nothing to working 50+ hours a week and potentially bringing home 60k a year. It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. I had the chance to make some real money for the first time in my life. And due to how long it took me to finally graduate I was already a smidge behind the whole "starting my adult life" thing than a lot of the people I graduated High School with.

It wasn't an easy transition for me. I had been a slacker for such a long time that it was a serious reality check when I had to work, and work hard, to make the kind of money that I wanted to be making. To make a long, boring story short; I went from all play and no work to all work and no play in the matter of a few weeks. I wanted to do well. I found a new desire to be "successful." It was a major transformation from the screw-off I had been for such a long time.

I don't regret taking the job. What I do regret is how much I allowed it to effect my life outside of work. A and I worked opposite schedules. I was working retail hours (9am-10pm) and she was working food service hours (3pm-1am). When she was getting home and wanting to go out and be social, I was headed for bed to get ready to work the following morning.  While the difference in schedules was real and made things difficult, I never should have let it fester and disease our relationship as much as I did. I should have made more time. I should have sacrificed a productive day of work on occasion or tried to take more time off. I should have put her happiness as more of a priority as opposed to thinking, "She just needs to understand."

Don't get me wrong, it hurt me too. I lost contact with a lot of people. I sacrificed a good portion of my social life in the attempt to be successful. We were a great couple. We had friends together. We went out and were sociable. We had fun. I let work ruin that. It took a while for me to get rolling as a salesperson. But, once I did I should have fought harder for a little more balance in my life and in our relationship. My regret at the way things transpired knows no bounds.

A, I am sorry I let you down. I hope you can understand that I was just trying to do right by you and by us. I wanted to make it work. In retrospect I have found that I was holding on too tightly and ended up suffocating a good many of the great things in my life.

I don't mean for this post to be too much of a downer. There were good times too. A and I had a few great years together. I can say honestly and without embarrassment that I loved her. I loved her more than even I knew until it all came crashing down.

The final straw in our relationship came when I accepted the offer of a "promotion." I use quotation marks because in this sense "promotion" means a job with longer hours, higher stress, more responsibility, less pay but has added benefit of having the title of manager attached to it.

There were a handful of reasons I decided to take the position; chief among them was my desire to purchase my own house. I don't know how many of you have gone through the mortgage process but it is damn near impossible to get one on a commission based pay system. Having a salary makes it a dozen times easier.

Once I took the promotion the small part of my life that had not yet been consumed by work was gobbled up almost instantly. I was working 60-80 hours a week and it took everything I had just to keep going. I took the weight of the store on my shoulders. I was going to be the best god damn manager that place had ever seen and there was no project or responsibility that I wasn't going to take on. After more than a year of me putting her on the back burner, I believe this additional strain is what finally took A to the brink. She was living with a workaholic, her boyfriend as she knew him had ceased to be. She left me.

I can't blame her too much. Looking back I must have been a bear to live with. Stressed and unhappy all the time. I brought my work home with me far too much and we rarely saw each other. I tried to keep doing all the little things. I made dinner and bought her flowers. But the damage had been done. A year and a half of this was enough.

One Saturday night after a 70 hour work week my boss called me into his office. He informed me that, starting Tuesday, I was being transferred to a different store. A and I had already been having problems and I was sleeping in the spare bedroom and this transfer was sure to add even more stress. Needless to say, this news wasn't what I wanted to hear for both personal and professional reasons. The new location was 45 miles away and I was receiving nothing in the way of compensation. I went home, and fell asleep. The following morning I went into our bedroom to discover that A had never come home the previous night. I hadn't heard from her and had no idea where she was. I was some combination of furious and worried and although we had been having problems, this was the first time she had disappeared without so much as a word. I went to work and tried to continue with my day. I finally heard from her halfway though the day. She was OK but didn't really want to talk via text message (understandable). I got home hours before her and tried to keep myself busy because I knew that the conversation to come was not going to be pleasant.

She came home and the argument ensued. After a couple hours of yelling at each other she decided that we shouldn't "live together anymore," which was tantamount to us not being together anymore. There was no "us" anymore. There was only "me" and "her." We had been heading toward that precipice for a long time and when the bottom fell out it turned out that I didn't have a parachute.

I grabbed my dog and went to stay the night at my father's house. The following morning I rented a U-Haul, gathered my brothers and moved most of my stuff out of our apartment and back into my father's house. The following day I started work in my new store. Just like that, a 4 year relationship was down the drain.

As a quick synopsis: At this point I was a month shy of 29 years old, back living at my father's, single with very few worldly possessions, and with a job that I hated and blamed for the demise of everything good in my life. So, yup, things were looking up.

#firstworldproblems

Guess I'll need a part 2 after all. To be continued.....

Back In the Saddle

Back In The Saddle

     I can't believe it's been three years since I posted anything on my blog. I am incredibly sorry for neglecting all of you for so long. The new Apple iOS7 came out for my iPhone today and listed in my favorites on the new safari browser was my old blog and it got me to thinking that I should really start writing again. And because it's been such a long time, and I was never particularly good at it anyway, this blog is my only outlet.

     I read through some (all) of my old posts and it was refreshing to see that most of my opinions, especially sports related opinions, haven't changed much in the last few years. Some of the old posts were even slightly funny! So, starting today I'm going to try to post at least a couple of times a week again.

     Most of my old posts were about the NFL (the weekly recaps). I think I'd like to continue those and also expand into some other topics as well. I'd like to think I've grown wiser, because I'm damn sure I've grown older, in the last few years and have more to offer the world than just semi-humorous rants about the NFL and fantasy football. So here goes nothing.....Wish me luck.

The Walk

As some of you may know, I attended and graduated from Indiana State University (ISU). I’m not going to wax poetic about my college career or ISU’s campus or anything like that. But, the one thing that ISU does have that I will support until the end of time is a little thing called “The Walk”.

                “The Walk” is an annual bar crawl that happened before the homecoming football game. Students wake up as early as 6am to drunkenly weave their way down Wabash Ave. while hitting every bar between campus and the football stadium for a drink or five. It is much like Purdue University’s breakfast club or any number of other bar crawls around the country.

                It's a big deal to ISU and to Terre Haute. In general it seems that ISU students love it and that the townspeople of Terre Haute would rather burn their bibles and participate in homosexual fornication while experimenting with intravenous drug use than allow this tradition to continue.

                One article in the local newspaper, the Tribune Star, was written by a Mrs. Creasy and had some slightly venomous thoughts about how “The Walk” affects Terre Haute and its inhabitants. Please check her article out: http://tribstar.com/flashpoint/x231067133/Flashpoint-Terre-Haute-needs-an-alternative-to-ISU-s-walk

              My good friend Barstool Theory has already written a rebuttal (check it out here: http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fbarstooltheory.blogspot.com%2F2010%2F10%2Fisu-homecoming-walk-is-ours-not-yours.html&h=a25e1). The following is my response.

Dear Mrs. Creasy,

                You’re wrong.

                In order to make sure that I don’t miss anything let’s just take your column in order and itemize the things you’re wrong about.

1)      You’re right about homecoming being about supporting the Sycamores. Granted, it can also be annoying sitting next to someone at a sporting event that is rip-roaring drunk (unless you’ve also had a few too many glasses of White Zin). My question to you would be how often are you out there “supporting the Sycamores” on days that aren’t homecoming? What’s the average attendance at an ISU football game? Almost none. I say that anything that gets people to the stadium is a good thing and not to be sneered at.

2)      You then attempt to blame alcoholism on participation in “The Walk”. HAHAHAHAHA Really?! It’s “The Walk” that causes alcoholism? I’d say more alcoholism is caused by overbearing uber-religious, repressed households than any amount of partying in the U.S. Alcoholics drink before work, not before football games.

3)      You look down upon “designated walkers” but not on designated drivers? What’s the difference? People have realized that the students (and older people) who participate in “The Walk” are going to do it whether you approve or not, so they may as well try to make it as safe as possible. I bet you’re one of those people who think giving condoms out to high school kids is a bad idea because it promotes casual sex.  THEY’RE GOING TO DO IT ANYWAY. COME TO TERMS WITH IT AND MAKE IT S SAFE AS YOU CAN.

4)      Why did you separate Christians from other non-drinkers? Do no Christians drink? Are Muslims or Jews allowed to come to your anti-drinking, anti-fun rally? Do you realize that just by putting that little line in your article you ruin your credibility for anyone who’s not a devout Christian, closed-minded, or under the age of 60?

5)      Also, just as a point of clarification, the participants in “The Walk” aren’t kids. They are at least 21 years old and often much older. Referring to them as kids is degrading and misrepresentative. These are young (and sometimes not so young) adults. Old enough to drink, old enough to fight in Iraq, old enough to get married, and old enough to ignore you.

6)      You cite the legal problems as costing the city tons of money. Arrests and tickets from people who are screwing around on the walk don’t cost the city money. They make the city money. Where do you think a fine for public intoxication goes? It goes to the city. Not to mention the hundreds of thousands of dollars ISU’s homecoming and “The Walk” bring to the local business of Terre Haute. The bars and clothing stores and whatnot all make money which then turns back into revenue for the city through purchases by the owners and employees of those establishments. Also, there’s tons of money the city collects in taxes off of all these sales. The Copper Bar gives more money back to your beloved city than your church does.

7)      I can assure you that if you try to block people from entering the bars the morning of “The Walk” that the bartenders are not going to “appreciate support and interest in the welfare of the students.” You’d be taking money directly out of their pockets. Imagine how you’d feel if I came in and took all your bingo winnings.

In general, your small minded approach to ISU’s best (and only real) tradition is the reason that Terre Haute isn’t moving up in the world. Maybe if you wouldn’t have dropped out of ISU, you’d realize that. It’s the mindset that it is your job to correct the morality of people keeps your city stuck in the middle ages.

Sincerely,

Cody

ISU Graduate 2007

I’m not going to go over all the great things “The Walk” can do for the city. I wrote an article about it for ISU’s newspaper a couple of years ago (click here if you’re interested: http://www.indianastatesman.com/2.3880/two-statesman-staff-members-weigh-in-on-their-favorite-isu-traditions-1.454433). I just want Mrs. Creasy to come down off of her high horse a little bit and attempt to live in the real world for a few minutes.  So, Mrs. Creasy, I have a big old middle finger salute to you and your bible thumping, morality police ways.