Monday, December 31, 2012
How was YOUR 2012?
So it has been another year, blah blah blah. How many times have you read that crap? And, of course, the whole "New Year, New You" business that's inevitably a part of it, particularly when marketed to women.
What I like to do at the end of the year is count my blessings, and this year is no different. So here it is: Blessings 2012, Shepherd Style.
Zach had his last of everything high school: last wrestling season, in which he finally realized his dream of making state. His last band concert, which was a little hard to watch. I can't believe he is so grown up now. He continues to be a dream of a stepchild. He graduated in May, took a full course load at the local college this summer, and aced his first fall semester. He will start January 2013 as a sophomore. He has a lot of changes coming up in his life this summer, but he is a mature and responsible kid, and I am so proud of him. I feel blessed to be in his orbit.
Hunter is taking his first college class, Chemistry, and I can't believe how smart he is. He didn't get it from me, for sure. He got the second highest score in the grade in his pre-ACT test. Again, didn't get that from me. He turned 16, which was a stressful couple of weeks in terms of adjusting to the price of gas and finding a driveable vehicle, but he did adjust, thank goodness. He works two jobs in addition to school, and is doing very well at balancing it all. He impressed me during the election season with his informed opinions and desire to learn about the political process. I'm not worried about him.
Zane had an amazing year. He has worked through a lot and seems so well-adjusted now. I didn't think it was possible for him to be any funnier, but he is. He has grown a LOT. At the beginning of last year, he was almost my height. Now he is taller than me and Hunter, and just about taller than Zach. I give him another year before he will be taller than Bill. He is doing great in school, as usual, and says he wants to work with me when he turns 16, which is a great compliment. I love hanging out with him.
Bill and I had some adjustments to make as we had to bid our old house goodbye and start over. Our new house has ended up being better for everyone, though. Even though it's further from town, it's our little piece of heaven. I'd love to have a better signal and even a kind-of decent internet connection, but you can't have it all. We're closer than ever, despite the obstacles that we have faced with his ex-wife and her inability to be happy. Hopefully in 2013, she will find her happiness.
I graduated from Pitt State in May, and after a semester off, decided to go back and start my graduate degree in January. I also started an amazing new job in May at the theater, and have never had a more rewarding job in my life. Everybody should have a job that they are excited to go to. The people I work with are awesome, and I love every single one of them.
I kept my health, which is a blessing every day, and although Bill has had a few problems with his back and feet, he's still going strong, too. I have loved having him around more this year. We're talking about doing some traveling when the kids graduate, which will happen quicker than we know. I can't believe they're 18, 16 and 15 now. Time goes too fast, as many of you know.
All in all, I think 2013 is looking to be a great year, too. I'm really excited at the changes to come, and ready to take them on with my family by my side.
Oh, and I'll probably diet from January 1-2, as always.
How was YOUR 2012?
Friday, December 28, 2012
Ch-ch-ch-changes!
Starting next month, I am leaving Heartland and starting a new phase of life at Pitt State.
Part of this probably has to do with the fact that I am getting older, and want to explore as many things as I can before I'm too old to care.
Has anyone else ever felt that way? It's not a mid-life crisis, exactly; actually, I think it has more to do with cancer. I had no real motivation or ambition before cancer. I just drifted, really. But once I had that death scare, I realized that I want to do a lot more things before I die.
I got this position at Pitt State, as a graduate assistant in employer relations, and I think it will be more challenging. I will get to conduct all the mock interviews for the campus and grade them. I get to research stuff I care about. The condition to employment is that I have to stay enrolled in school; no problem, because I miss it there. So I'm taking six hours in grad school and working part time on campus. I'll still keep my theater job because I freaking love it.
I'll get paid a fair amount, but with gas prices factored in, I won't make as much as I did at Heartland.
Something that has fallen by the wayside this month, though, is my book. I wish NaNoWriMo had a December contest, too, so that I could have kept pace with my word count. As it stands, I'm just past 60,000 words, and plot-wise, hovering around the two-thirds to three-fourths mark. I think about all I need to do, with finishing, and then editing, and then marketing, and I get so freakin' tired.
And then I like hanging out with my dang kids too much. They're fun. I miss seeing the oldest, but he did ask me to go with him to enroll for the spring semester. We had so much fun doing that - I think the highlight was when he snuck into the teacher's lounge and stole some cake, then the advisor called us in right after that. He had chocolate all over himself.
But I digress. He's really excited about taking Philosophy, which made me happy. Although he's not around as much, he's doing ok considering all the changes happening in his life. The youngest is always awesome. We get each other, and have our own bond. I am so glad to have them and to have their support. They are the best stepkids in the world (sorry, all you other stepkids, you didn't make the cut).
This is kind of rambly, but I hadn't posted in a while, so to all my readers (ha!), chill out. There were holidays and stuff.
Have a kick-ass New Year (I'll be working, so have fun for both of us) and I'll see ya in 2013!
Part of this probably has to do with the fact that I am getting older, and want to explore as many things as I can before I'm too old to care.
Has anyone else ever felt that way? It's not a mid-life crisis, exactly; actually, I think it has more to do with cancer. I had no real motivation or ambition before cancer. I just drifted, really. But once I had that death scare, I realized that I want to do a lot more things before I die.
I got this position at Pitt State, as a graduate assistant in employer relations, and I think it will be more challenging. I will get to conduct all the mock interviews for the campus and grade them. I get to research stuff I care about. The condition to employment is that I have to stay enrolled in school; no problem, because I miss it there. So I'm taking six hours in grad school and working part time on campus. I'll still keep my theater job because I freaking love it.
I'll get paid a fair amount, but with gas prices factored in, I won't make as much as I did at Heartland.
Something that has fallen by the wayside this month, though, is my book. I wish NaNoWriMo had a December contest, too, so that I could have kept pace with my word count. As it stands, I'm just past 60,000 words, and plot-wise, hovering around the two-thirds to three-fourths mark. I think about all I need to do, with finishing, and then editing, and then marketing, and I get so freakin' tired.
And then I like hanging out with my dang kids too much. They're fun. I miss seeing the oldest, but he did ask me to go with him to enroll for the spring semester. We had so much fun doing that - I think the highlight was when he snuck into the teacher's lounge and stole some cake, then the advisor called us in right after that. He had chocolate all over himself.
But I digress. He's really excited about taking Philosophy, which made me happy. Although he's not around as much, he's doing ok considering all the changes happening in his life. The youngest is always awesome. We get each other, and have our own bond. I am so glad to have them and to have their support. They are the best stepkids in the world (sorry, all you other stepkids, you didn't make the cut).
This is kind of rambly, but I hadn't posted in a while, so to all my readers (ha!), chill out. There were holidays and stuff.
Have a kick-ass New Year (I'll be working, so have fun for both of us) and I'll see ya in 2013!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
My THIRD BOOK!
When I turned 30, I had a little freak-out. I always expected I would have written at least one book before I turned 30, and, well, I failed. So in November 2005, I wrote a little something called "Thirty." I wrote it in 30 days, when I was 30, and it was about the wacky world of pharmacy. It really isn't that boring - it was kind of fiction/nonfiction and focused on the types of crazy people who come into retail pharmacy every single day.
The next year, spurred by the recent death of my grandfather, I wrote "The Christmas Room." That one was a little too personal to share with anyone, but it was a labor of love for me, as well as being so cathartic.
After that, my passion for book-writing died. I tried another one the next year, but it was more of a collection of jumbled words and little coherence than anything else, so I quietly closed the door on that chapter of my life.
Until last night. I felt tired, and Bill had to get up early too, so we went to bed. Except, I couldn't sleep. A single line kept running through my head, and this urgent insistence from my inner voice telling me that it had to go in my book. What the hell, I thought. I am so not writing a book. I have plenty of other crap going on.
But, that voice. And it wouldn't stop. Then another thought, a plot point, popped into my head too, and stayed there, ringing like a bell every time I tried to find sleep.
Rolling over and grabbing my phone, I explained to Bill that I had to write this down or it would undoubtedly be lost in the morning.
I ended up writing a lot. I'm at 2400 words so far, and the story is spinning itself together in my mind and flowing out through my fingers in a way that I thought was lost to me forever.
Holy cow, I might be writing a book. This one is different in that it truly is fiction. I have no idea where the plot is coming from, or how it popped into my head. I only know I can't ignore it.
I will keep you posted on its progress.
The next year, spurred by the recent death of my grandfather, I wrote "The Christmas Room." That one was a little too personal to share with anyone, but it was a labor of love for me, as well as being so cathartic.
After that, my passion for book-writing died. I tried another one the next year, but it was more of a collection of jumbled words and little coherence than anything else, so I quietly closed the door on that chapter of my life.
Until last night. I felt tired, and Bill had to get up early too, so we went to bed. Except, I couldn't sleep. A single line kept running through my head, and this urgent insistence from my inner voice telling me that it had to go in my book. What the hell, I thought. I am so not writing a book. I have plenty of other crap going on.
But, that voice. And it wouldn't stop. Then another thought, a plot point, popped into my head too, and stayed there, ringing like a bell every time I tried to find sleep.
Rolling over and grabbing my phone, I explained to Bill that I had to write this down or it would undoubtedly be lost in the morning.
I ended up writing a lot. I'm at 2400 words so far, and the story is spinning itself together in my mind and flowing out through my fingers in a way that I thought was lost to me forever.
Holy cow, I might be writing a book. This one is different in that it truly is fiction. I have no idea where the plot is coming from, or how it popped into my head. I only know I can't ignore it.
I will keep you posted on its progress.
Friday, November 2, 2012
At What Point Do You Surrender?
Being around myself more than anyone else, I feel fairly qualified to name both bad and good things about me. Because it's me, we're going to focus on the bad today, and how it is detrimental to my mental health.
I am a clean freak.
I don't mean a glove-wearing, masked, constantly-disinfecting mom like on Dexter's Laboratory.
I just like things to be clean. And that's the way it is.
My paternal grandparents were not concerned about having a spotless house, nor is my dad. My mom is, which makes this just one more thing I have to admit I have in common with her. My brother and sister are very particular about the order of things, but I don't know how fastidious they are.
I just want my space orderly. I want my tables and counters wiped down. I don't want clutter. I don't care about stuff being alphabetized or being correlated by color. I just want it clean.
This can be a problem when you live with guys.
In my case, I mean it IS a problem. I live with two who do not care at all about keeping anything clean, one who cares but not enough to help, and finally, my pleaser, who will help me whenever asked and will try to remember to help when not asked.
It's still overwhelming. To me, if each person cleans up his own personal mess, we have no problems.
If only we all felt that way.
I have two choices: clean it up myself or ask the offender to do it.
Both have pros and cons.
If I clean it up myself, I have the benefit of knowing it will be done to my often-unreasonable expectations (the way a towel is folded, the way a bed should be made, where the dishes are put away). I know that I will have the personal satisfaction of a job well done, and I will know exactly what I have done and what still needs to be done.
If I request that it be done by the offender, in an ideal world, that offender would do it. Instead, in the BEST-case scenario, it is put off to "later," a time that seems to be related to the word "never." If I request again, I am a nag and just being mean, because they SAID they'd do it later! GOD! If I then do it myself, I am being a total freak and wow, I SAID I would do it, what is WRONG with you!?
And I mean, let's face it. I am gone more than anyone else in the house, with the exception of my kid, who lives with his dad half the time. Do I enjoy coming home to a messy house? Uh, NO. Is it the quickest thing to put me in a horrible mood? You bet.
I KNOW, ladies, that I am not alone in this quandry. My question is, at what point do we give in? At what point do we try to change our very makeup, the stuff that makes us who we are, to save our own sanity?
I don't want to resort to drinking EVERY night. I mean, that's not good for you, right? Or is it now? I can't keep up.
I just know that, when I get home tonight at roughly 11:30 p.m., there will be a mess.
I can count on few things in this life, but by God, I know I can count on that.
I am a clean freak.
I don't mean a glove-wearing, masked, constantly-disinfecting mom like on Dexter's Laboratory.
I just like things to be clean. And that's the way it is.
My paternal grandparents were not concerned about having a spotless house, nor is my dad. My mom is, which makes this just one more thing I have to admit I have in common with her. My brother and sister are very particular about the order of things, but I don't know how fastidious they are.
I just want my space orderly. I want my tables and counters wiped down. I don't want clutter. I don't care about stuff being alphabetized or being correlated by color. I just want it clean.
This can be a problem when you live with guys.
In my case, I mean it IS a problem. I live with two who do not care at all about keeping anything clean, one who cares but not enough to help, and finally, my pleaser, who will help me whenever asked and will try to remember to help when not asked.
It's still overwhelming. To me, if each person cleans up his own personal mess, we have no problems.
If only we all felt that way.
I have two choices: clean it up myself or ask the offender to do it.
Both have pros and cons.
If I clean it up myself, I have the benefit of knowing it will be done to my often-unreasonable expectations (the way a towel is folded, the way a bed should be made, where the dishes are put away). I know that I will have the personal satisfaction of a job well done, and I will know exactly what I have done and what still needs to be done.
If I request that it be done by the offender, in an ideal world, that offender would do it. Instead, in the BEST-case scenario, it is put off to "later," a time that seems to be related to the word "never." If I request again, I am a nag and just being mean, because they SAID they'd do it later! GOD! If I then do it myself, I am being a total freak and wow, I SAID I would do it, what is WRONG with you!?
And I mean, let's face it. I am gone more than anyone else in the house, with the exception of my kid, who lives with his dad half the time. Do I enjoy coming home to a messy house? Uh, NO. Is it the quickest thing to put me in a horrible mood? You bet.
I KNOW, ladies, that I am not alone in this quandry. My question is, at what point do we give in? At what point do we try to change our very makeup, the stuff that makes us who we are, to save our own sanity?
I don't want to resort to drinking EVERY night. I mean, that's not good for you, right? Or is it now? I can't keep up.
I just know that, when I get home tonight at roughly 11:30 p.m., there will be a mess.
I can count on few things in this life, but by God, I know I can count on that.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Be Careful What You Wish For...
I don't have a lot of memories from childhood. I don't remember really ever wanting to BE anything, except a writer. When I was 19, however, I became dead-set on achieving a very particular goal. Once I achieve this goal, I told myself then, my life will be set.
Do you see where this is headed?
I achieved the goal. I wanted it, I wished for it, I prayed about it, and I got it.
Now I don't know how I feel about that.
It doesn't matter what it is.
When I look at the surface of my life, it seems absolutely amazing. I live in a dream home, after facing the loss of our previous home a few months ago. I have the best kids in the world, even if only one of them is mine biologically. I have my "dream" husband. I have a college degree. I no longer have cancer. I have one amazing job and one not-terrible job. I have hair again.
So why am I in such a fog?
I have true happiness when I'm with the three boys, or any variation of the three, and they're trying to one-up each other with ridiculousness. I truly am happy at the theater. I truly am happy living in the house I live in, and the land and the pond that comes with it are out of this world. The beauty is incredible. Being there makes me feel even closer to God.
Other than that, I feel like I'm living in my own world, and only snap out of it periodically. I feel like I have a wall built around my heart all the time when I'm not with the kids. Even when I'm laughing, or smiling, which is almost all the time, I feel like I'm not really present.
I wish I knew what this was all about. I think I know, and I do think part of it is the aftermath of cancer, when sure, you might be healthy, but you're always waiting for what's next. And there are always, always more bills, even when you think that every department in every medical facility in the tri-state area has already billed you. It seems like a hole I will never be able to crawl out of, and it's on my mind a lot.
My college degree, as I suspected, has not changed my life at all, but I do miss college. I don't know if no longer having that routine and facing the everyday drudgery of work again is part of it, either.
I JUST DON'T KNOW. I don't KNOW. And it's bugging the crap out of me.
Thank God for music.
Do you see where this is headed?
I achieved the goal. I wanted it, I wished for it, I prayed about it, and I got it.
Now I don't know how I feel about that.
It doesn't matter what it is.
When I look at the surface of my life, it seems absolutely amazing. I live in a dream home, after facing the loss of our previous home a few months ago. I have the best kids in the world, even if only one of them is mine biologically. I have my "dream" husband. I have a college degree. I no longer have cancer. I have one amazing job and one not-terrible job. I have hair again.
So why am I in such a fog?
I have true happiness when I'm with the three boys, or any variation of the three, and they're trying to one-up each other with ridiculousness. I truly am happy at the theater. I truly am happy living in the house I live in, and the land and the pond that comes with it are out of this world. The beauty is incredible. Being there makes me feel even closer to God.
Other than that, I feel like I'm living in my own world, and only snap out of it periodically. I feel like I have a wall built around my heart all the time when I'm not with the kids. Even when I'm laughing, or smiling, which is almost all the time, I feel like I'm not really present.
I wish I knew what this was all about. I think I know, and I do think part of it is the aftermath of cancer, when sure, you might be healthy, but you're always waiting for what's next. And there are always, always more bills, even when you think that every department in every medical facility in the tri-state area has already billed you. It seems like a hole I will never be able to crawl out of, and it's on my mind a lot.
My college degree, as I suspected, has not changed my life at all, but I do miss college. I don't know if no longer having that routine and facing the everyday drudgery of work again is part of it, either.
I JUST DON'T KNOW. I don't KNOW. And it's bugging the crap out of me.
Thank God for music.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Ho Hey!
Before you do anything else, look up the song in my title.
It is entitled "Ho Hey" by The Lumineers.
It was worth paying for to have it in my music library. The video is a similarly feel-good experience.
Now that I've done something for you, I will continue.
I always feel better knowing that I've helped you in some way.
Oh, and if I ever DO help you, and you want to let me know, well, that's cool.
One of the worst feelings in the world for me is when I can't help someone.
That's how I feel now. But that's a little personal, so maybe I'll write about that another time.
Today, let's talk about choices.
Sometimes you make them, and sometimes they make you.
That's kind of what is happening with our family right now.
Through a series of events dating back four years, my family found ourselves in the position of having to find a new house. It was unfortunate - we were current on our mortgage, we were fine with the bank. But things happen sometimes.
Side note: don't ever get divorced unless it is amicable. That situation may not even exist.
One thing I do NOT advise is going through a divorce that drags out over two-plus years. Those suckers get expensive.
But I digress.
After a lengthy period of downright uncertainty, we found a house that we are able to live in. Our payment will even be slightly less than our old payment, and the house is 3000 square feet as opposed to our current 1500.
It's a better place for our kids. They will have their own rooms AND their own closets. Heck, the house even has two kitchens.
And a basement.
And two and a half bathrooms.
This will be my fourth move in four years. I don't advise it. The only plus side is that I've been able to keep my "stuff" accumulation down this way. I long to be a minimalist. I'm not there yet. If my kid made it when he was little, or wore it a lot, I have a hard time parting with it.
I love the crap out of that kid.
Similarly, no way would I tell Bill to get rid of his kids' stuff. It's just freakin' adorable, you know? By some miracle, we still have some of it. Even pictures of them from their youth I didn't know we had.
I don't even know that I have a point here. Beginnings? Endings?
Have you listened to that song yet?
Anyway, we're moving. The house closing was Wednesday and we're actually moving.
I have mixed feelings now that moving time is here.
I'm kind of sad about leaving the old house. It was never really my house, but I tried to make it a good home. It was most definitely a bachelor pad when I got there, and it was most definitely the former home of the former Mrs. Shepherd, which made it difficult when I changed things because I didn't want to upset the kids by taking anything she did away.
I left her curtains up even though I'm a fan of blinds. I left her bathroom cabinet mural even though it didn't match the new bathroom stuff.
We transitioned well, really. The boys went from living in that house with their mom and dad to moving out briefly with their mom, to moving back in with their dad, to making room for me and for Hunter, and they did it with so much grace and heart that I tear up even writing about it.
She was a worn-down house. A fixer-upper that couldn't quite be fixed up. We did a lot in the last year, but there's only so much you can do with some places. We had 'er almost maxed out. I had a new floor fund that consisted of 100% of my second job paychecks.
I never dreamed that I would turn around and use those on a completely different house.
As much as my heart is torn about moving out of our current house, I can't imagine how the boys feel. As Zane says, "It's just a house." But it was more.
They lived there for 12 years. That's a long time when you're 15 and 18.
We have been up-front with them about every new development in the process. We took all three kids to see the house to get their approval first. We lined everything up the best we could.
It's still sad. While I know that we are going to make a new life and new memories in this new house, it's always a little sad leaving the old behind.
I get sad driving past my old house that has been painted a sickening shade of yellow with black accents, sitting in the middle of a bare yard after the new owners decided they just hated all the cedar trees.
I get sad driving past the site of my house before, that burned down three months ago.
Just because I don't live in either of those places anymore doesn't mean I don't still have the memories. Even if those houses remained unchanged, I still wouldn't be living in them. It's just, I don't know, sometimes change is freakin' sad.
Anybody else feel this way?
I'm leaving the house where I lived when I was diagnosed with cancer and the house where I lived when I beat cancer, simultaneously. I grew a lot as a person living here. It was the house I lived in when I finally got my bachelor's degree. The house where we lived when Zach graduated from high school.
I will keep you posted, undoubtedly with more pictures than you would ever want to see, as we make this transition.
Peace out, old house. You were good.
It is entitled "Ho Hey" by The Lumineers.
It was worth paying for to have it in my music library. The video is a similarly feel-good experience.
Now that I've done something for you, I will continue.
I always feel better knowing that I've helped you in some way.
Oh, and if I ever DO help you, and you want to let me know, well, that's cool.
One of the worst feelings in the world for me is when I can't help someone.
That's how I feel now. But that's a little personal, so maybe I'll write about that another time.
Today, let's talk about choices.
Sometimes you make them, and sometimes they make you.
That's kind of what is happening with our family right now.
Through a series of events dating back four years, my family found ourselves in the position of having to find a new house. It was unfortunate - we were current on our mortgage, we were fine with the bank. But things happen sometimes.
Side note: don't ever get divorced unless it is amicable. That situation may not even exist.
One thing I do NOT advise is going through a divorce that drags out over two-plus years. Those suckers get expensive.
But I digress.
After a lengthy period of downright uncertainty, we found a house that we are able to live in. Our payment will even be slightly less than our old payment, and the house is 3000 square feet as opposed to our current 1500.
It's a better place for our kids. They will have their own rooms AND their own closets. Heck, the house even has two kitchens.
And a basement.
And two and a half bathrooms.
This will be my fourth move in four years. I don't advise it. The only plus side is that I've been able to keep my "stuff" accumulation down this way. I long to be a minimalist. I'm not there yet. If my kid made it when he was little, or wore it a lot, I have a hard time parting with it.
I love the crap out of that kid.
Similarly, no way would I tell Bill to get rid of his kids' stuff. It's just freakin' adorable, you know? By some miracle, we still have some of it. Even pictures of them from their youth I didn't know we had.
I don't even know that I have a point here. Beginnings? Endings?
Have you listened to that song yet?
Anyway, we're moving. The house closing was Wednesday and we're actually moving.
I have mixed feelings now that moving time is here.
I'm kind of sad about leaving the old house. It was never really my house, but I tried to make it a good home. It was most definitely a bachelor pad when I got there, and it was most definitely the former home of the former Mrs. Shepherd, which made it difficult when I changed things because I didn't want to upset the kids by taking anything she did away.
I left her curtains up even though I'm a fan of blinds. I left her bathroom cabinet mural even though it didn't match the new bathroom stuff.
We transitioned well, really. The boys went from living in that house with their mom and dad to moving out briefly with their mom, to moving back in with their dad, to making room for me and for Hunter, and they did it with so much grace and heart that I tear up even writing about it.
She was a worn-down house. A fixer-upper that couldn't quite be fixed up. We did a lot in the last year, but there's only so much you can do with some places. We had 'er almost maxed out. I had a new floor fund that consisted of 100% of my second job paychecks.
I never dreamed that I would turn around and use those on a completely different house.
As much as my heart is torn about moving out of our current house, I can't imagine how the boys feel. As Zane says, "It's just a house." But it was more.
They lived there for 12 years. That's a long time when you're 15 and 18.
We have been up-front with them about every new development in the process. We took all three kids to see the house to get their approval first. We lined everything up the best we could.
It's still sad. While I know that we are going to make a new life and new memories in this new house, it's always a little sad leaving the old behind.
I get sad driving past my old house that has been painted a sickening shade of yellow with black accents, sitting in the middle of a bare yard after the new owners decided they just hated all the cedar trees.
I get sad driving past the site of my house before, that burned down three months ago.
Just because I don't live in either of those places anymore doesn't mean I don't still have the memories. Even if those houses remained unchanged, I still wouldn't be living in them. It's just, I don't know, sometimes change is freakin' sad.
Anybody else feel this way?
I'm leaving the house where I lived when I was diagnosed with cancer and the house where I lived when I beat cancer, simultaneously. I grew a lot as a person living here. It was the house I lived in when I finally got my bachelor's degree. The house where we lived when Zach graduated from high school.
I will keep you posted, undoubtedly with more pictures than you would ever want to see, as we make this transition.
Peace out, old house. You were good.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Using My Major/It Could Have Been so Much Worse
When I graduated from PSU with my little emphasis area in public relations, I was realistic.
I live in Nevada. I will continue to live in Nevada for at least five more years.
I ain't using my degree.
So, imagine my shock and delight when I got to practice crisis communication in a real, live setting with real, live people!
The Place: Century Six Cinema
The Time: 12:15 a.m.
The Reason: Batman: The Dark Knight Rises midnight showing.
Let me preface the story by saying that this was a big showing. The Spiderman midnight show two weeks ago, in comparison, sold roughly 40-some tickets.
Batman sold 140.
Of these 140 movie-goers, it looked like half wore some sort of Batman memorabilia, whether it was a shirt, a hat, swim goggles, underwear over the pants, tights, or a full cape.
It made what happened a little tougher.
Let me digress again by explaining that movies are not like what they used to be. In my previous days working in the old Fox Theatre, way back in the 80's, film was actual film. It was on a giant reel. It had to be threaded.
It was really cool. I never learned how to do it.
Fast-forward twenty-some years, and not much has changed. I still don't know how to do it.
But it's different. Movies now look like some kind of prehistoric eight-track, and require a key to be activated before they will play.
Cue the problem. The key did not work.
The movie did not start.
As our manager stayed on the phone with the film company, I felt that the crowd needed to be placated, or at least notified about the problem and updated accordingly.
My first trip in wasn't bad.
I called their attention to the front. I told them that there was a delay, that the film could not be activated, that the manager was on the phone with the company, that hopefully it would be resolved soon, and that I would keep them posted on the progress of said delay.
Stunned silence.
Then a scattering of language, almost all of which was the same question.
"Are you serious?"
I assured them that this was not a joke. I told them we were sorry. I told them we were trying to reach a resolution.
I got booed. Just a little, mind you. Nothing disheartening.
I really liked this crowd.
Twenty minutes later, still no movie. I went back in.
This time, they clapped when they saw me.
I offered free passes. I gave them the option to stay or go.
A couple of people requested that I dance. For their sake, I chose not to.
The third trip in, I was out of graceful delivery.
"OK," I said, "I can only juggle with two balls. I can't dance. I am truly sorry for this inconvenience, but we will have to give you all passes to come back. I don't know how much longer this will take."
While quite a few took me up on that, the majority opted to stay.
At 1:20 a.m., when both the film company and the IT people gave up on the show and declared the official time of death, I gave out passes to the remainder of the faithful crowd.
And you know what? People are amazing. This crowd was the epitome of what I love about my job: the people. They were understanding. They didn't spit on me or the staff, nor did they try to hit us.
There were a couple who were noticeably bummed, but none blamed us for the situation.
That is just awesome.
This morning, when I woke up for my other job, I saw the news from Colorado.
Another theater, coincidentally also a "Century" - the Century 16. Another non-show.
This one, however, went badly.
My heart goes out to those killed at the midnight Batman showing in Aurora. I can't imagine what would possess someone to kill so many, some of them children, at a place and time that was supposed to be good old-fashioned entertainment.
God bless those people and their families, and thank you to those of you last night who proved that people can really be pretty damn cool.
By the way, the movie works now.
I live in Nevada. I will continue to live in Nevada for at least five more years.
I ain't using my degree.
So, imagine my shock and delight when I got to practice crisis communication in a real, live setting with real, live people!
The Place: Century Six Cinema
The Time: 12:15 a.m.
The Reason: Batman: The Dark Knight Rises midnight showing.
Let me preface the story by saying that this was a big showing. The Spiderman midnight show two weeks ago, in comparison, sold roughly 40-some tickets.
Batman sold 140.
Of these 140 movie-goers, it looked like half wore some sort of Batman memorabilia, whether it was a shirt, a hat, swim goggles, underwear over the pants, tights, or a full cape.
It made what happened a little tougher.
Let me digress again by explaining that movies are not like what they used to be. In my previous days working in the old Fox Theatre, way back in the 80's, film was actual film. It was on a giant reel. It had to be threaded.
It was really cool. I never learned how to do it.
Fast-forward twenty-some years, and not much has changed. I still don't know how to do it.
But it's different. Movies now look like some kind of prehistoric eight-track, and require a key to be activated before they will play.
Cue the problem. The key did not work.
The movie did not start.
As our manager stayed on the phone with the film company, I felt that the crowd needed to be placated, or at least notified about the problem and updated accordingly.
My first trip in wasn't bad.
I called their attention to the front. I told them that there was a delay, that the film could not be activated, that the manager was on the phone with the company, that hopefully it would be resolved soon, and that I would keep them posted on the progress of said delay.
Stunned silence.
Then a scattering of language, almost all of which was the same question.
"Are you serious?"
I assured them that this was not a joke. I told them we were sorry. I told them we were trying to reach a resolution.
I got booed. Just a little, mind you. Nothing disheartening.
I really liked this crowd.
Twenty minutes later, still no movie. I went back in.
This time, they clapped when they saw me.
I offered free passes. I gave them the option to stay or go.
A couple of people requested that I dance. For their sake, I chose not to.
The third trip in, I was out of graceful delivery.
"OK," I said, "I can only juggle with two balls. I can't dance. I am truly sorry for this inconvenience, but we will have to give you all passes to come back. I don't know how much longer this will take."
While quite a few took me up on that, the majority opted to stay.
At 1:20 a.m., when both the film company and the IT people gave up on the show and declared the official time of death, I gave out passes to the remainder of the faithful crowd.
And you know what? People are amazing. This crowd was the epitome of what I love about my job: the people. They were understanding. They didn't spit on me or the staff, nor did they try to hit us.
There were a couple who were noticeably bummed, but none blamed us for the situation.
That is just awesome.
This morning, when I woke up for my other job, I saw the news from Colorado.
Another theater, coincidentally also a "Century" - the Century 16. Another non-show.
This one, however, went badly.
My heart goes out to those killed at the midnight Batman showing in Aurora. I can't imagine what would possess someone to kill so many, some of them children, at a place and time that was supposed to be good old-fashioned entertainment.
God bless those people and their families, and thank you to those of you last night who proved that people can really be pretty damn cool.
By the way, the movie works now.
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