What I Recommend…

I ate dinner with B and R last week. D is doing well, had a kid and is enjoying life in Idaho. S and K also had a kid and moved closer to parents in Michigan. J got married to a national or so the website says. H is living in Vegas, baby. N finally got back and is looking for a job. We are spread around the world, with different jobs, and little contact. But we are still friends and share one intimate bond. We all survived our time in Taiwan.

The decision to go over there is one of the few choices in my life I have never regretted. Difficult sometimes: too hot, too humid, strange, gross and stinky all describe the county. The friends I made over there are life-long. The experiences will never be repeated. There are no do-overs.

I hope I contributed to the city of Chia-yi. In the perfect world, I had a permanent impact on peoples’ lives. It was not all for me; I wanted a chance to make a difference.

When every other job requires experience to apply, the time overseas did not. It let people live in new and different place and as they bent down to help found themselves lifted up.

A Proper Analogy

It took several months and many poor comparisons, but I finally came up with an analogy of my fear-a prior experience in my life whose emotions run eerily similar to now. I played little league for only one year. Platooning in right field and third base, I was known for my chatter over athletic attributes. My fielding was poor and hitting was worse. The prospect of the ball beaning me scared me speechless. The fear drove me to jump out of the batter’s box no matter how far off the plate the ball was on the other side. Before coming to the plate, I would be confident that I would be hit. In the on deck circle, I was near tears at the prospect of the at bat. I would beg my coach to take me out of the game before something terrible happened.

I never got over the fear. My team, the cubs, won only two games and was demolished in the first game of the playoffs. I would not take another competitive swing until intramurals in college. Come to think of it, I did not take too many swings in little league.

Today, I face the same terror during daily activities. As sure as I was that I would be struck by the ball, I am positive I will have a spell while showering, driving, walking or being alone. It is confidence of failure, certainty of pain. I am not living in the field of competition, but am shrinking from the challenge.

In the end, I was never seriously hit. I escaped without a major bruise and .000 batting average. A month and a half since my last spell should give me strength. Saturday, I climbed all over the Scottrade center with no problems. Yet, the idea of showing without someone in the house frightens me to the core.

The Return of the Luka

Key Rocky theme music and open shot of man checking his tie in the rearview mirror. Roll credits and the title, “A Luke Returns”. I admit that it is too overdramatic too vain. In reality, few need to know or care of my recent accomplishment, but for me it is a huge deal.

On Friday, September 8, 2006, I made my first visit with a donor since May. The visit went well, and it was an enjoyable time. (It is true I enjoy my work something to be loathed at 22 and to have pride about at 27.)

The real victory was not the visit’s results; it was the simple act of the visit. I fought fear, doubt, terror and fright to schedule this time and hold to it. All of the negative emotions melted away after the donor opened the door.

Friday gave me confidence that I can face more days with visits and soon be back on the road with whole weeks filled with talking to donors

Fantasy Football…

There they were: all white, all with short hair, all with papers containing dynamite draft tips. Here in their late 20s or early 30s they have abandoned their hopes of athletic glory long ago and now focus on creating a fantasy football team to rival none other. They have left their wives, girlfriends, children or lonely apartments to meet in this smoky bar to hold their annual draft.

It is all business. No one is telling any jokes. No food has been ordered, just drinks. Names of football stars are the only conversation. After they finish, they quickly leave before small talk or discussions begin.

It proves to me, most of us live in dreams. Few of us achieve everything we strive towards. You may love your family, your job, and be wealthy, but there will be something you wish you could do or be. These men play as if they are genius GMs. Trekies wish they could live in outer space. There are many men/women still shuffling in many a band in many a city. I dream I am a writer and a pol. I love my family and think my job is great. I wish I had to do a book signing or write a victory speech.

The Worst Hotel Experience…

This did not happen to me. The Luka who had this experience detailed the story for me over dinner this weekend. It was so bizarre I decided to blog it.

E drove into this tiny town in Wyoming with time to spare before his first visit. He took advantage of the opportunity to check into the hotel and place his bags in the room. Super 8 is no Luka's favorite spot, but it was recently built and looked well kept on the outside. Plus, it was the only place for miles where E could sleep. Bags into the room followed by a quick check of his tie and E was in the hallway headed for the car.

“Hey man,” A janitor called from a doorway.

“What’s going on,” E thought he was being nice and nor further conversation was needed.

“Where going to be on the news tonight.” The janitor’s eyes opened wide.

“Really?”

“Yeah, maybe even national. There was a film crew here earlier.”

“What for?”

“See that pile off foam down there.” The janitor motioned with his head.

E looked down the hall and saw a large pile of suds coming from the room next to his.

“Someone got killed down there last night.” The janitor grinned at the event, which had made his normal day exciting. “There was blood everywhere. You should have seen it.”

“Huh, what about the yellow tape did the police take it down already?”

“My manager took all that down. He’s cleaning the place now. He wants to get it turned around so we can use the room again.”

“Huh-huh,” E slowly back away from this strange conversation. “You have a good day.”

“You to buddy.”

E never turned on the evening news or checked in the papers for the story. He did have the best night sleep of the trip on the new mattress.

Decision Time…

If I were overly dramatic, I would say: the time is upon us; it is zero hour; all systems are a go; it is now or never; the decision will change my life forever.

Maybe, I am that dramatic sometimes or try to be. But not now, now, I have one simple yes or no question in front of me.

To be honest, I did not think of the question early. It was Sunday when I first thought about it. Had that not happened, I probably would have doodled around until it was answered for me by time and lethargy.

Am I going to let this summer and fear take over my life and ruin a year maybe more where I spend time wallowing in doubts, or will I take risks push myself and grab for that golden ring of normalcy?

A long question answered with yes or no. Exceptions and explanations are not needed. Yes or no is the only part that will matter.

It would be easy to say yes. If I did nothing at all ‘yes’ would become the answer. It would be yes to my fears and doubts, yes to the lack of my inner strength, yes to being too tired to go. Yes takes little effort. It is not as if people could say a thing to my face. They could talk behind my back. Coworkers would whisper how I am just picking up a paycheck. Friends would think I am milking the sympathy. Relatives would believe I am a wimp/attention grabber. I could coast up to a year without pushing much.

I have taken the easy way before-many times. I have been known to turn and run at the sight of dogs. At 28, asking for a date is a Herculean effort. I do not play any sports choosing laziness over embarrassment. One more defeat in my lifetime would only further the trend.

I do have the option of saying ‘no’; I do not want this summer to extend into the next swimsuit season. I can force myself toward normalcy toward living by myself and working as before.

There have been times I have fought back. A semester was spent in heart failure. A relationship was started in a Chinese restaurant. Many of my success are muddied in the fact that they were done in ignorance or stupidity of the situation. To complete this epic, I must knowingly face the terror.

If I choose ‘no’, the road will not be straight and smooth. There will be times I will feel like giving up or worse that my health is in my head and my body is ill. Game plans must be written. Schedules must be set and revised. Goals need to be decided upon and then achieved. I must put all of my effort into it.

I am sure I want to be normal, and almost sure, I want to do the needed work. I am positive I do not want to use my heart as a crutch and scared about what would happen if I did not.

Ready aim, aim, aim, should I fire?

Labor Day Weekend Blues

A three-day weekend and my last holiday until Thanksgiving, besides self-confidence, the illness stole vacation time-over two weeks.

S is cleaning.

K has a boyfriend, as do others.

Some have just moved.

C is still off the radar.

A and I will find something to do, or nothing and call it something.

The gang is all messed up. The glue is gone-no parties, no evenings out, no spontaneity.

I wish there was something to suggest. I am stuck in blah-land. I cannot think of something fun to do and spend my time daydreaming of Taiwan, healthy days and Kerouac.