Choice and Sacrifice

1:00 on Monday. I should be doing community service right now. Or packing. I called off. In a 'chicken or egg' moment I can't tell what caused which. Directly after calling off my stomach started to hurt. Could I have subconsciously anticipated this? Maybe. Psychosomatically created this? Again, plausible. Or perhaps a more mystical explanation is fitting? Maybe God is punishing me for Straying From The Path.

I know it seems bratty (because it is) but after 7 months of little more responsibility than a teenager not yet of driving age, one tends to grow spoiled. Getting used to watching movies, playing videogames, surfing the web and working out whenever I wanted has made my recent productivity feel laborious by comparison. My higher thinking knows I'm doing the right thing, and has me vowing to stay on track (which I will) but my lower human self needs a break.

Yesterday was Sunday and supposed to be my Day Of Rest. Of all the dogma and rules I've assimilated from organized religion over the years, there is but one hard and steadfast rule I ascribe to: there is to be no work done on Sunday. Sunday is the Day Of Rest. Early in my foray into the workforce, unavailability on Sundays was built into my rider. Filled out on every application. And I was generally a better worker because of it. I postulate that as long as you know you have one day of the week on which there are no responsibilities or obligations, during the rest of the week you will much more easily be able to push yourself. If your jogging in the desert, hoping to find water or civilization, you might wanna slow your pace, lest you never come upon it. Without the foreknowledge of its existence you must act carefully. But if said desert was equipped with an oasis every 2 miles or so, and you knew this, well running through it might become a game. You might even push yourself to see how fast you can clear the desert gaps in between each rest stop. The days of the week are no different in my mind.

Yesterday didn't go as planned (few things ever do). And as such my need to rest is spilling into Monday. It was your typical case of being so busy during the week with work (and community service in my case) that the weekends are the only time you actually have to get household chores done. Laundry, dishes, cleaning, etc. And again, in my case, packing. It kinda sucks when you've been pushing yourself for 6 days and then on your 7th you still have work to do, albeit located at your home instead of the office. I didn't get nearly as much packing done as I wanted to. Indeed, other than boxing up a few video game systems my only real accomplishments yesterday were bringing up boxes from the basement into my bedroom and clearing out a single draw of a beater chest I keep in the basement. Abysmal.

In addition to being swamped with things that simply need done I was left with a mental burden as well. One that was the main cause of my calling in sick today. After a few phone calls with friends and family and a lengthy one with my Mom it was decided that I should see if my grandfather would be willing to house some of my stuff temporarily. After going through a list of other family members my Mother arrived on him with glee and the explanation of "Well since your grandmother passed away and no one else other than your Uncle lives with him, he has that whole big house to himself. Plenty of room. Give him a call." After hearing that, I did a dangerous thing: I built up hope and expectations. My Grandpa is somewhere in the realm of 80 and lives in a pretty large house. This seemed a surefire bet. Something to bank on. Well after a short phone call with him that was shot down. Much to my chagrin. A few calls to random other family members tried to stop the bleeding but the damage was done. The blow had been dealt. My peace had been robbed.

I am not getting down on myself or saying that I'm giving up, I am just saying that I need a breather.  Especially because this time around I know where my oasis lies and I have miles and miles of desert to trek before reaching it. Yes I am dealing with some hardships now but in actuality things are only going to get harder. And soon. I have to be out of this place in exactly a week to the day. Other than having a friend offer to let me crash on his couch I have no clue as to where the lion-share of my possessions are to go. Obviously when with him I'll be bringing the bare essentials, clothes, toiletries, etc. But a good many of my accumulations are still unaccounted for.

Again, I'm not losing sight of my goal or my path, I'm merely taking a moment to compose myself on a nearby bench. That bench in this case being this blog. I've been talking to a few professionally trained therapists lately, simply by chance, and in addition to being busy, my gushing to them seems to have sapped my need/desire to gush on here. They are simply friends and not being paid or actively striving to counsel me (nor I to them) but we inevitably end up doing so anyway. It's human nature. Background in psychology or not, it is simply how friends interact. We help each other through things. Before the field existed many of us got our therapy in (my opinion) a much more natural way. From friends and relatives. Closed loved ones. Not paid detached third parties. I'm not knocking the profession or devaluing its practices or practitioners (or patients), I am merely stating that it is a recent development in human history.

In much the way my fictional brothers, the pair Elric, have tried to cheat the system, I too am looking to have my cake and eat it too. I mean what's the point of having cake you can't eat? And how exactly does one eat cake that one does not have? That phrase has NEVER made sense to me.

"To obtain, something of equal value must be lost."

"Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is Alchemy's First Law Of Equivalent Exchange." - Alphonse Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Is this always this case? Is this the only way to gain? It would seem so. Alchemy and the symbolism of Alchemy seems to pop out in most aspects of my life. With cooking, the ingredients are sacrificed to make a complete dish. With bodybuilding/fitness, water, money, food, time, and energy are sacrificed to create muscle mass and performance. It's all there. It would seem to be an immutable law. It goes hand in hand with the concept that there is no such thing as a free lunch.

My Dad is a hardworking man. As most fathers are. I cannot even begin to imagine the sacrifices (both physical and mental) that man has given for the benefit of his family. For the benefit of me. For as long as I can remember my dad has been on the road. His presence at home was very rare and sometimes disruptive. Without getting into too many details I will outline a telling analogy. Much like me (like father like son) my dad is a very clean and organized man, and as such he would often clean during the time he was actually "stationed" at home. I say stationed because now that I think about it, it was similar to military leave. He is a Health & Safety Inspector and has been one for years. His duties (along with paperwork) mainly consist of supervising others in hazardous environments. Dealing with nuclear waste, etc. He came to this job at entry level, and being the man that he is quickly moved up the ranks. Unfortunately, many who hold his same position are trained. Have been to school. Have a piece of paper that says they know what they do. My Pops has no such paper. He only has his grit and his experience. Due to this he has largely been dicked around by the system for as long as I can remember. He'd spend 6 months away in Guam and then come home for 6 months. As a kid, 6 months is a very long time. Certainly long enough to make the man who contributed to giving you life feel like a stranger. My sister and I (my youngest sister had yet to be born) grew accustomed to our Mother's ways and (despite being a positively wonderful man, one of the best human beings I've ever known) when my Dad was home it kinda through things out of whack. Even for my Mum. Back to the cleaning thing actually, I can remember more than one phone call from my Mom to him where she grilled him about where he had put certain items during his stay. He was always putting things away in high or hard-to-reach places. At least high and hard-to-reach for women and children. For him it was simply organization and efficient use of space. He'd go to Ohio for 3 weeks and then be home for 2 days, New York for a month and a half home for 2 weeks. He travelled all around the country, and at times around the world. He had to go where the work took him. Like I said, I can't even begin to fathom how taxing that must have been for that poor man. (Or my mother.) 80 hour work weeks, sending the greater portion of his paychecks home to his wife and children, while he slept in hotels and lived on his per diem. The bare minimum. A superhero for sure.

Well about 2 years ago now (maybe longer or more recent, but I'll say 2 for the sake of argument) he got an offer for a permanent job in New Mexico. The job itself was a dream job. For him and my mother. Finally, this man who had been on the road for 15+ years simply to keep food in our mouths and clothes on our back was getting his due. And my mother, who after giving birth to a miraculous third child (one the doctor's say she should not have been able to have and hence earning my baby sis the nickname "miracle child" which was sometimes used derisively by my other sister and myself) had to also get and secure a job to contribute to raising us was also finally getting a break. Samantha is 5 years younger than Taylor and 7 years younger than me. Quite a gap for siblings and quite a gap for parents. At just the point where money was being shelled out for kids now aware of fashion and clothes and interested in and performing extra curricular sports and activities and such they now had to provide for a new born.

Honestly I don't know how they did it. Raising a baby is one thing. But doing it while also maintaing two elementary age children is a feat nothing short of a superhero status. My mother too, a superhero. Both of my parents, a duo of superheroes. The disparity only continued through the years. High-school age kids needing car insurance and help with new cars and rides to work, with an elementary age child attending choir practice and concert recitals. Just thinking about it makes my head spin.

My parents are simply amazing people and I could devote more than a few entries solely to them (and probably will) but I gave all this background to put a certain scenario into context.

When my Dad was offered this job that was well-paying enough that my mother would not have to work, it was again in New Mexico. That meant getting rid of possessions that couldn't make the trip and saying good-bye to most of the family that is settled here in Western PA.

I was well into my twenties at the time and for the most part independent, so this did not affect me as much as it did them. I had a job, a license, a car and soon my own place. I also had a girlfriend that I still consider to have been the love of my life. In addition to her there was my best friend Kevin and a slew of other people keeping me here. It was decided that I would stay. Despite my ability to remain behind with my other younger sister, who also stayed, I still felt for the sacrifices my parents were going to have to make. More so for my Mom than for my Dad. For my Dad this was a well deserved dream come true. He'd finally be able to go to work during the day and return to his wife and kids (well, kid) at night. Any one who knows him knows he's wanted this forever and moreover knows he's deserved it just as long. It was high time it happened. But for my Mom, the transition wasn't so easy. She had settled down. We lived on the street she grew up on, with one of her sisters occupying the actual house where she grew up. All her brothers and sisters (6 total including her) were within driving distance. Many within 5 minutes or less. She comes from a very tight-knit family and maintaining that closeness was/is crucial to her. Despite tapering off a bit after both of her parents passed away, her side of the family still regularly gathers for holidays, birthdays, weddings and the like. Something I think they all need. Including her. Moving to New Mexico for her would mean forfeiting all but one or two of these events. She could only attend when finances and my father's schedule would allow them to fly back out.

It has since struck a nice balance with her brothers and sisters (all well established adults) occasionally flying out to spend a week or so with her and my dad and sister, sometimes in tandem. Even so, the strain must still be enormous.

At the time when this was a bridge yet to be crossed, I instinctively knew I too would one day be crossing it.

My Dad from having lived on the road for so long and perhaps simply from being male is a much more mobile human being than my Mother. He is quite used to living on the bare minimum and making do with what he has. Only buying or acquiring what he needs as the need arises. My Mother on the other hand is a wonderful Mother Hen. She created an amazingly comfortable nest for herself and us there on Eastern Avenue. Filled with all the amenities you'd expect of a typical North American White Upper/Middle-Class family to have. Dog, cat, a car per licensed driver. Big screen TV, TV in each of the kid's bedrooms, a well-stocked kitchen (both in instrument and ingredient) which she frequently utilized to more than adequately provide for our needs and occasionally to entertain guests. She was established. Settled. In her element. Tasteful knick-knacks every where, drapes matching carpets matching couches and so on. And seasonal sets of each. I always teased her with "When the pilgrim and turkey salt n pepper shakers get put away, the snowman and reindeer ones are coming out." She had a seasonally themed item for most everything in the house and regularly rotated between them as the seasons passed.

All of this and her family would need to be left behind. She was moving into unfamiliar territory.

While I did sympathize with her greatly at the time I was maybe not as apt or able to show it. I was even a bit cold. Not because of anything like being an unfeeling psychotic, but because it simply did not apply to me. My mind could recognize the gravity of the situation and yet it did not affect me. Literally and emotionally. I have an Uncle that is particularly handy and oft called upon to supervise or undertake repairs to homes or cars within the family (I think everyone has an Uncle like that) and a few times I've been privileged (Or burdened depending on my age and outlook at the time) to work with him. He is a old-world man with old-world values but an intense sense of humor. That's a pretty accurate descriptor for most of my Mother's siblings and her side of the family in general, but particularly for him. Being the oldest of the 6 he is the quintessence of that dynamic. A cigarette-smoking, beer-swilling (in the past), country-music-listenin', handyman Zen Master. Again, I could devote an entire website to the gems I've heard fall out of this man's mouth. One of which being "Ain't my house." Said jovially but still meant in that truth said in jest sort of way. When something would go wrong with a particular project, say a piece of molding falling off a bannister, or a crack accidentally forming in a wall, he'd let out his hearty yet raspy, wheezy and guttural smoker's laugh and follow it with a "Hey, ain't my house!" More like 'hahs' this being Pittsburgh and all. He never meant it mean and almost always went on to repair the damage himself or to leave proper instructions for us to do so, but the care-free zen-like attitude has always stuck with me. At the end of the day, no, it was not his house. This was largely how I dealt with my parents shuffling thousands of miles off to the other side of the country and leaving prized possessions and family members behind.

"Ain't my problem." Again, I was not entirely unsympathetic nor am I a heartless individual, but the fact of the matter remained, it simply was not my problem. I had a car, a girl, a place, a job, a life. Here in PA. No sacrifices needed to be made. But even then I had a sense that eventually I would be pulled out there. In the back of my mind I knew that one day the sacrifices that they made, I too would have to endure. And here we are.

The West has always held a pull on me. I've lived there before and I continue to gravitate toward it. Well before my parents headed that way. Yes I am Tertium Quid and a mix of both East Coast and West Coast mentalities, but spending most of my adult life on this coast has left me enamored with the other. The grass is always greener. Much like I identify with the Japanese more than Americans, so to do I defer to the Left Coast. In much the same way I hold the French lifestyle in high regard above America's I also value the Californian mindset over Pennsylvania's. I am an East Coast, Pennsylvania Pittsburgh boy through and through and this part of the world will always feel like home to me, or at least serve as a base of operations but like many other men before me the cry of "Go West, young man! Your future is untold! You can find your dreams on the California Coast!" rings powerfully through my head and acts like a magnet to draw me in that direction.

There are several geographical (and cultural) locations to which I am drawn, in no order: The UK, France, Japan, California, Oregon, Pennsylvania and Australia. And I believe that the path to stepping on the soil of each of these lies in first heading West. Within the next five years I plan on being the next James Cameron or Steven Spielberg. More accurately the one and only Josh Vish. Yes I aspire to be rich and famous but those are only tertiary goals to my main causes. Making film, being a father and benefitting the world. As long as I get to do those last three I don't care whether or not the wealth and fame come. I simply desire them to facilitate my goals. And yes, maybe a bit out of ego. I want to make movies like Avatar, Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, The Matrix, Fight Club, Into The Wild. Entertaining pieces of fiction that also serve as lessons to those willing to learn them. And I want to be the best father I can be. I also GREATLY desire to spend time in Japan, observing its landscapes and scenery, culture and people. That last goal is the most "pointless" or "self-indulgent" Ultimate Goal I have. I have been in love with Japan for quite some time now and I really want to see it up close.

As it stands now I believe that in order to achieve those things I must head West. I spoke about it in my last entry, but it's worth reiterating. I need to complete my legal obligations here, and then move forward (meaning West) with my life. I'm not getting any younger and I've already wasted a good bit of time being "lost", so it's high time I make my dreams a reality. Next to fulfilling the stipulations of my being legally able to leave the state I also need to further streamline my person. Mentally and materially. I have made great strides in both, incredible strides really (I shall have a hell of a "True Hollywood Story" or "VH1's Driven" if they still make either of those) but I still have more to make.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
 - Frost

Robert really put it best (and quite poetically), but that's where I am. I am battle weary and exhausted, ready to quit. And without a goal I would've likely succumbed to weakness and old ways by now. As it is, all actions I undertake, including calling off my community service today and typing this blog are with my Ultimate Goals in mind. To me this is progress. Forward momentum.  I needed this. I didn't get it yesterday, so I'm taking it today. Writing centers me. It gives me peace. It helps me regain myself.

I already know this entry is coming to a close and with the end in sight I feel rejuvenated. Invigorated with purpose. Typing and re-reading this serves as a very long mantra, a re-realization of my goals. I am motivating myself.

I said I always knew I'd eventually deal with the dilemmas my parents had to deal with when they headed out West, and they are drawing near. I know I'll finish my community service soon and hopefully pay my own court costs, after that it's onward and upward. Well no, not after, continuing through that it's onward an upward. I'm like a train, slow to start and get up to speed but near unstoppable once it does. The difference between my symbolic train and a real one is that no stray pebble or wandering cow can derail me, my path is set, I'm the only one on the tracks and now that I'm moving, I'm not stopping until I reach my destination. I've accumulated a lot of things. Things that I like. Some self-made, some bought, and while in my more spiritual and Zen days it was easy to detach myself from them, in my self-actualized I-am-only-human-not-Jesus-or-Buddha-or-Satan, but-I-am-Josh-Vish days it's not so easy. I want what I want, and I can be extremely stubborn when in that mode. Stubborn is only biased as such when it leads someone to ruin, when it leads to success we instead say Driven or Motivated. Self-Assured. These are better terms for where I am right now.

What I'm saying is: if I have to get rid of my desk, my chest of drawers and my shelving, I will, but I really really really really really don't want to. I like them and I want them. The items inside them can be packed and eventually put into replacement chests, desks or on shelves, but as it stands I want the ones I have. I am prepared to make necessary sacrifices, but I'd rather not.

Hopefully in a few years I'll re-read this from a lightning-fast, top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art computer set atop a gorgeous desk, sat in a comfortable and supportive high-backed King's Throne style Executive office chair, in my office, in my house, that I had built, to my specifications, from the ground up, and I'll be thinking "How silly that I wanted to hold onto those old things. And yet how admirable was my determination."