Life As I Play It

The past weekend already feels like a lifetime ago, although it has the tangibility of a dream remembered vividly.

We had roughly thirty hours together in her city. I’d rather be there than have her come up here; St. Louis is rich, culturally diverse, and vibrant, especially compared with the black and white “cultural desert” of Jefferson City.

At the end of our time together, she chose to accompany me to the train station. The station is uncomfortably crowded, and four women feel the need to share their conversation with the entire world as though they’re auditioning for “The View”.

We hold onto each other, not saying much. We dread this time from the moment I arrive; knowing that soon, we will be back to the business of our lives, back to extensive, late-night phone conversations and yahoo messenger.

It has been storming all weekend and today has been no exception. The skies are gray and dreary and the clouds churn slowly overhead. The rain that is produced comes at a pace gentle enough to be refreshing instead of uncomfortable. I hold Molly close to me, and she leans into my chest, her arms tightly wrapped around me. I kiss the top of her head and try to hold tight to the smell of her hair. She cracks the occasional joke, trying to lighten the mood. She’s great at breaking silences with clever little jokes.

It’s a little less than a mile between my house and the train station, and I’ve been unable to secure a ride home. Molly is concerned for my well-being and offers me her jacket, hoping I wear on my head during the walk home. Initially, I’m thinking that I have this heavy backpack and a shopping back carrying Stephanie Meyer’s “Twilight” series (a gift from Molly’s extensive book collection). The jacket would make peripheral vision impossible, and carrying so much stuff as day turns to night, I might as well spray-paint “Please Mug Me” on my back.

I push the jacket away a couple of times; I’ll be fine. Molly can be insistent, and I refuse politely, again, two more times. She lets the matter go for a moment.
Minutes before the train arrives, the rain has not let up. She pulls away from me and raises her eyes to meet mine. She holds the jacket in both hands, offering it up to me and says simply; “Please.”

The only thing she cares about at this moment, my conscious sounds off, is your well-being. We should all be so lucky.

I chuckle because not many people can reach me the way she does. I’m still bewildered by the fact that she figured me out so quickly. We’ve only been dating four months. Maybe I’m not as hard to read as I think I am.

I thank her, and accept the jacket. I don’t want her to wave to me as the train pulls away–saying goodbye is hard enough. So I ask her to leave now. She protests, and I don’t blame her. Shifting my mindset from being with Molly to being alone is difficult–very difficult. She concedes the issue. One last kiss, and I watch her exit the train station and walk left, vanishing behind the exterior of the station. I won’t see her again for weeks.

Ironically, it is not raining by the time I get back to Jefferson City, and I cling the jacket tightly as I walk home. As I get in, it’s good to be home, and the jacket smells like her. Blessedly, Molly doesn’t smell like any other girl I know.

I drape the jacket over the back of my office chair. When I lean back, it’s like she’s right there.

And so we fall back into the routine of text messages, nightly talks, and our work. Unless she asks for it, I don’t think I’m going to return the jacket. It’s about to be summer. She won’t need it.

But in my solitary moments, I might.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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I wasn’t expecting the Ravens to get past Tennessee, but we did. So despite the fact that the Steelers had swept us this season, I held out hope that, despite the injuries and statistics, we just might pull it out. If we defeated the Steelers in their own home, we’d head back to the Super Bowl for the second time in nine years.

It wasn’t meant to be. To say that I dislike the Steelers is not to say that I don’t respect them. They wanted it much more than we did, and they had the experience to back it up.

Final score: 24-13.

To see my squad come so close to the big game, just to fall short one game shy of the super bowl, well, this is why we watch the game. We go through the highs and lows with them. The further we go, the harder it is to fall.

Molly was here for a four-day weekend, and barely stayed in her skin while I cheered and cussed out the TV, and then sank into a mild depression. Molly doesn’t like to people sad, especially those she cares about.

She immediately went over to my laptop and opened up my (extensive) Alvin & The Chipmunks collection. In a manner that ensured we will never end up on a reality dance show, we danced as she sang along with “Bad Day” among others.

There was a time when I would go on and on about the people I was dating in my blogs; keeping things relatively quiet about Molly isn’t meant to say that I’m not very happy where I am. It means I am learning to keep my mouth shut.

My closest friends know the truth, as close friends should. I can say that I have never stayed up late with someone downloading chipmunk videos and, later on, arguing opposite points of the death penalty.

As I grow older, I learn there are some things I need to keep to myself if they’re going to turn into something. What I can say publicly is that this place, right here, is where I want to be. Not because I feel a need to be here, or even because I feel this is where I’m supposed to be; no, this is where I choose to be.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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2008 was a great year. Runners up include holding onto the same job, apartment, and phone number. The grand prize is that I was never arrested.
Even more important, I never gave the police a reason to arrest me, although that didn’t stop them from looking for one.

The new year started off routinely; I sprained my back in a sparring match. Although Billy continually asked me if I was alright, I chose to fight through the pain (just like always) and continue. I was in so much pain that those who watched the match pointed out how worn out I was. I fought on. I don’t know why. The addiction to fighting is something I need to deal with this coming year.

I blog about the people and events that have the most impact on me (that I’m allowed to talk about), which brings me back to my relationship with Molly. She tore me a new one when I told her that I had hurt myself sparring. What she said hit home, and she made me make a promise; I will undoubtedly make friends in St. Louis who share my passion. The second I get hurt, stop. I can no longer risk a serious injury that jeopardizes my ability to take care of my children.

Her influence on me has forced me to take my life into account; she’s much more informed on world events than I am, and I find myself having a hard time keeping up in conversation with this girl who’s ten years my junior. There is no excuse for how little I know about the world around me, and I find myself driven to learn everything I can as quickly as I can. Adding the Nightly News to my list of podcasts was a good idea. I can no longer afford to have an apathetic attitude; I’m a part of this world too.

I’m blessed with a near-invincible drive; if I decide that you’re not going to beat me, then you’re not. If I decide to succeed at something, then I’m going too. I hold myself to a very high standard and I used to tell myself that it was okay to do the best I could; if I failed after doing the best I could, then I could live with that. This is no longer the case, and I can no longer have even the slightest excuse for failure. With more than my own life at stake, I can no longer just try; I have to succeed at some level.

This means I have to get a lot of my self-doubt under control; I have a hard time believing why anyone would want to be with me. I can pick apart someone’s motives until they finally leave, and then say this was how it’s supposed to be; I’m supposed to be alone. Or, I can try this; Molly wants to be with me, and also, she believes in my ability to succeed.

So not too long ago, she comes across a blog written by someone I was considering a relationship with, and some of what was mentioned drove her a little crazy. One of the statements in the blog alluded to the more she got to know me, the more she saw a child. I didn’t take it personally–at first. I noted that this blog came following a decision to be with Molly instead of her. When Molly began to ask me about the legitimacy of our relationship (was I sure about her?) I took things a little more seriously. I can screw things up with women just fine on my own; I don’t need any help.

I wasn’t raised normally. I have no desire to be “normal” because the idea of settling into a dreamless existence is a fate worse than Hell to me. I like to laugh, as often as possible. I look for fun in everything I do. I charge obstacles wholeheartedly and with everything I have because if I try to half-heart the obstacle, then I’m only going to get halfway through it. I approach the world with a child’s curiosity because it is a huge planet God gave us, with literally millions of opportunities to explore. I am close-minded to almost nothing and blessedly, I have been exposed to a multitude of cultures and at one point, I spoke Japanese nearly fluently (not so much anymore. Not too many opportunities to practice in the Midwest).

I take my responsibilities very seriously; I’ll go so far as to say that I take my responsibilities more seriously than most people because I have been where one ends up when they ignore their responsibilities. My children are my life and no matter what I encounter this year, I will have some sort of custody arrangement by summer.

I’m not a child. I may not look at life the same way most people do, but this doesn’t make me a child.

I will, however, cop to being a dork. And screw Tony Stark; I’m Iron Man.

So begins another year, one which finds me in a very promising relationship, mine to make work, at the first stages of a burgeoning writing career, about to move to a major metropolis area and begin caring for my two children.

The battle to curb my insecurities, keep my anger in check, and overcome my trust issues continue.

For the first time in more than ten years, my father and I will come face-to-face in June of this year. An angry child left California; a father and writer will return.

Let 2009 begin.

Thanks for following along.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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Before the last fight, I spent a good hour on the net with Molly learning all I could about St. Louis. Yeah, I’ll cop to it that I’m moving out there to be closer to her–she drives two hours to come see me–but it’s more than that.

I’m a city kid. I love the country, I have nothing but love for small towns, but they’re not my environment. Give me skyscrapers, overpopulating human traffic, subways and other forms of public transportation any day. Damn, I haven’t been on a subway since BART back home and just the idea of stepping foot on a train hypes me up.

I also have a weird feeling, different than when I moved to Belding, Grand Rapids, Rapid City, or even Jefferson City; I always felt like those places were way stations. I don’t get this vibe from St. Louis, and Molly has nothing to do with it. Regardless of my relationship (which is going really good, and hope has a long future)…I don’t think I’ll be leaving there anytime soon. I think I’m getting ready to go home.

Then again, I may have said this about Jeff City a year ago. I’m wild-hearted, and it’s time I got that under control. It’s not about me anymore.

This is going to be the place where I raise my children, part of the time, anyway. I won’t lie, I want full time, they’re my kids, but my ex-wife’s family has played straight with me, I’ll play straight with them.

On one hand I’m really psyched about seeing my kids again, and on another I’m terrified beyond belief, and this is a fear I’m not familiar with. Do I really have what it takes to raise two boys by myself? Can I provide for them? Pay for their medical care when they need it? Help them keep their grades up if I get that responsibility? Can I ensure that they never have to worry about a place to live? I can barely keep minutes on my freaking phone for crying out loud.

And yet…I have to. I have to find a way. I’m good at that, it’s what I do, and this time I have so much more than myself counting on me to do it. And I love my kids. Both of them, even though I barely know Brandon.

These next few months are going to be some of the hardest of my life as in record time I need to secure an apartment and raise the fare needed to go get them, and bring them back. I’m going to need to work in addition to whatever full time job I pick up in January.

Besides, the sooner I get out there, the sooner I can put money away for other things. I’d like to own a home eventually.

And….I gotta be honest. Molly drives two hours one-way just to come see me. We have something pretty solid and I need to see it through. She shouldn’t have to put forth all the effort.

So there it is. I will be in St. Louis, Missouri by June, I want to be there between March and April.

So it begins.

(c) Avery K. Tingle for Modern Magic Enterprises LTD and Nomadic Productions LLC

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