I cried about baseball

  Hey. Not that I think any of you care all that much, but it has been some time since I have written anything. That's mostly for two reasons. One being the fact that I realized my writing was more for me than anyone else. And two, because I haven't really been inspired to write about anything. Well, something happened last week. You might have heard about it...

THE CHICAGO CUBS WON THE WORLD SERIES.

  Hooo boy.

  Before I get into what this meant for me personally, if you have a TV, or a radio, or access to a newspaper, or the Internet, or a Morse code machine, you have seen that the Cubs getting a WS ring is a pretty big deal to the world at large. So many people are happy for so many different reasons and it's really a beautiful thing. It's great for the city. It's great for baseball. And hopefully it's the first of many. It's really cool to watch so many people celebrate and have a positive thing to get behind.
  The general public's celebration was great for me to see. Especially because it was about a thing I care about as much as a grown man can care about something that doesn't really directly effect his life. I cared about it so much I involuntarily cried as soon as the final out of game seven was made. I jumped out of my chair, ran across the TV room I was in and hugged my father as hard as I have ever hugged him in my life. He also cried. Two blue collar, grown men embraced and cried. If you know me, you know I'm not afraid to cry or show emotion in general (something I very much get from my father). But this felt and feels different. It's nearly a week later and I'm still watching highlights and getting choked up.
  I do not, and will never feel shame about that reaction. But, there are people who scoff at the idea of a grown man being emotional about something as trivial as a baseball game. I get it. The ice caps are melting. It's not "important". But it's not necessarily about the game specifically, as it is about 20+ years of memories with my dad, my buddies, and even strangers.
  Being a Cubs fan (or really an actual fan of any sports franchise) is part of the fabric a lot of peoples lives. I won't dive into a rant about the "suffering" we've had to endure watching the Cubs, but know that it's as real as sports "suffering" can be. So real that there are things that my brain has blocked out memories of, as if they were a traumatic accident. For instance, I have no idea where I was or who I was with for game 6 of the 2003 NLCS. And if I'm not reminded by someone or something, I often forget the Mike Quade era even happened.
  There was a time during the 2008 NLDS where my dad looked at me over a Jameson shot and said; "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked.

"For making you a Cubs fan," he replied before we threw back our shots. Some people might look at that as sad, or foolish. But that was an important bonding moment in an already close father/son relationship. We were in this thing together. And for real. Both adults that can deal with sports pain in the way one should always deal with sports pain; via alcohol.
  For every bit of heartache, there have been so many fun memories. Watching Kerry Wood throw 20 strikeouts while bagging newspapers for our paper route with my best friend Jim (what I like to call the most Normal Rockwell moment of my life). That same season, with that same best friend, I said that if Gary Gaetti hit a homer, I would call and ask a girl out. I was positive that he wouldn't. And sure enough, The Rat put one out and I had to have an awkward 12 year old phone conversation with a girl I was scared to talk to. It's that stuff.  Those moments, that brought out the tears.
  It's reaching high school and taking the train to Wrigley for the first time. Drinking enough Squirt and Gordon's Vodka to kill a horse and taking in your first ballgame sans parents. The first time you're allowed to legally enter Murphy's. The first time you can order a beer at the game and not worry about it. It's part of growing up. And it's sharing these experiences with the people you care about that bring out the tears.
  It's being dedicated (read; foolish) enough to keep tabs on the team's rebuild. Watching the likes of Darwin Barney and Nate Schierholz patrol Wrigley Field while you know the future is toiling in Iowa. Sticking it out long enough to get rewarded. That's what brings out the reaction.
  This year started and barring a slight hiccup mid season, the regular season went according to plan. The playoffs were as nerve wracking a sports experience as I could think of, but in the end we got what we wanted. I don't ever have to hear someone make fun of my Cub fandom again because they're "lovable losers". The team that I care most outside my friends and family are world champions. That's why I cried. That's what created the explosion of emotion that I stifled back until that third out in the bottom of the 10th was made. So mock it all you want. But I'll leave the you with the immortal words of Jeffery Lebowski:

"STRONG MEN DO CRY."
 

Christmas doesn't suck...but right after it kind of does.

 
Full disclosure:  This is going to be me venting. 




  
  For me and most of my friends, three weeks ago was a wonderful day.  It was French Christmas.  That is the start of real deal Christmas celebrating, and boy do I love it.  I was like a pig in shit that whole week.  Family and friends and all the things I mentioned in another post about how much I love Christmas.  That Monday the 29th, I had the worst case of post holiday blues I think I've ever recorded.  But, the following week still isn't real life.  Most people still aren't in my buildings at work, my manager was gone and NYE was still something to be excited about.  But after that?  There isn't any other time of year where there's such an abrupt return to reality. 
  It didn't help that the Monday after all the holiday cheer was the start to the coldest, nastiest few day stretch we have had this winter.  It was a real kick in the teeth.  Tenants were taking down, or had already taken down their decorations.  On the drive to work, I drive past a commercial florist that had a 30 yard dumpster full of garland and old trees.  That served as a symbol.  "IT'S OVER.  WELCOME TO TWO MONTHS OF HELL." 
  The rest of that week was spent as a constant battle with myself not to fall into a deep depression every time I saw still standing Christmas decorations, or a lingering Christmas song popped into my head. And to boot, now that the busy time of the holidays had past, it really sunk in how much I missed my grandma Ellie.  Who for the first time in 28 years wasn't part of my Christmas.  I've made it to today and I think I'm out of the woods as far as the post holiday blues goes.  As long as I don't go stir crazy and make it to April, everything will be ok. 
  I used to think I was in the minority as far as how I felt after the holidays.  I thought; "Maybe I only feel that was because I like Christmas so much..."  But it turns out, way more of my friends feel the same way than I thought.  It also turns out way more of my friends are back on the holiday bandwagon than I realized.  It was pretty much general consensus that December rules because it's busy and full of fun stuff, and that's why it's so miserable when it's over. 
  As one of my friends put it; "it's just a feeling of dread".  Time seems to move slower, there's not much to look forward to.  And the weather?  It sure is weather.  Today would have been a lovely big flake snowfall on December 22nd.  But on January 13th it's a kick in the shins. 
  You might be thinking, 'What's this wing dings point here?'  Really I'm just griping.  And feels good that someone else might read this and relate.  But also, know you're not alone in feeling bummed out.  Know you can gripe about this with your buds if it makes you feel better.  And most importantly, know that there's stuff you can do to make it suck less. 
  A lot of people have told me that planning something fun for the spring helps cope with winter blues.  And they're right.  But even easier than that, just keep busy.  I'm guilty of letting the winter hold me down, and letting myself be a sad sack. Being cooped up inside tends to do that to me.  Find something you want to do an just do it at least once a week.  Anything from the gym, to a trivia night at a bar.  Just do something to break up the time.  Sorry, I'm done giving you advice you didn't ask for. 
  Point is, post holiday blues/winter blues sucks.  But it sucks for all of us.  Now that it's mid January, lets all just start the countdown until pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training.  Thanks for reading my whining.

Christmas doesn't suck.

  Today is November 4th.  A what I would consider great Halloween weekend is not too far off in the rear view mirror, the rock salt bins have been put in the parking lot of my work, and the weather is getting into that gray late fall "pre-winter" period.  All of this used to mean that I, Derek Self, would start to get irrationally angry that Christmas stuff was here for the next two months.

"IT'S TOO EARLY!" I would say, while probably drinking coffee out of a holiday themed cup.

"CAN'T THEY WAIT UNTIL AFTER THANKSGIVING!?!"

  But, in the last year or so, I have come to realize that I'm ready for Christmas by mid October.  That was troubling to me at first.  I don't want to be one of those weirdos who decorates their house November 1st, and doesn't take it down until February.  But after months of getting mad at my neighbors for doing that very thing, I realized that wasn't the case.  I don't really expect large gifts from anyone, and I have no significant other to celebrate with.  So what is it?  Why do I like it so much now?  Then it hit me:

MY FAMILY*

  It's one of those things that dawns on you as you get older.  The emotional comfort I get from Christmas is directly related to how great it was for me growing up.  I've come to realize that every Christmas I have celebrated in my 28 years as a human being has been a beautiful middle class day dream, that I wouldn't trade for anything.  Each December 25th of my life has been a slice of Americana.  With roasts, and pies and as the years went on, a lot of booze.  It's the one day a year I know I am going to be totally relaxed (at least while single and childless) and in good company.  This year will be a little rough, as it's the first year we're going to celebrate after the passing of my beloved grandma.  But I know it'll be OK because I'll have my family.
  Aside from realizing how great my family has made the holidays for me, there is another reason I have regained a love for Christmas:  I am several years removed from working a retail job.  If you want to hate Christmas with the power of a thousand Scrooge's, work a retail job.  I worked at a hardware mega store, and even that was terrible.  I can't imagine what it would be like to work in a mall from October to January.  Christmas music was RUINED for me.  Being forced to listen to "Holly Jolly Christmas" on loop is something they probably used to do in Guantanamo.  But, now that I'm not forced, love the stuff.
   So, from early November until about the first week of January, I will be mainlining holiday cheer and watching classic 90's Christmas commercials on YouTube.  Hell, I might even buy a tree this year.  If only to sit around it and think on how much I appreciate my family and all the great Christmas memories they've given me.  That's not to say I won't get completely sick of Christmas commercials by January 10th, and threaten to punch Michael Bolton through my TV.  But I'm going to enjoy it while it's appropriate.

*When I say family, that includes my friends.  Who are as much family as anyone I share a bloodline with

Enough already!

  When you enter the work force, you're around adults as your peers for the first time.  Most of your life, your interactions with middle aged, married, adults with children have been with family members, teachers or something like that.  But now that these type of people are your coworkers, you get a little more insight as to what it's like to be in their shoes.  You quickly learn that most people are miserable, and want nothing more than to pass their misery on to you.  They give you life advice based on their shitty, unfulfilling existence and it can be scary. 
  But, the older you get, and the longer you're in the real world, you come to realize that fact.  You're able to let their sad sack existence roll off your back and see that adult life doesn't have to be the way they tell it.  Entering the final years of my 20's there are a couple of pieces of advice I'm really sick of hearing.  Here they are (this is all going to be from the male perspective, duh):


1) "Don't ever get married."
   There are multiple layers as to why this pisses me off:

- I'm sorry you married a bitch, I really am.  But don't project that shit on to me.  Don't try to sour my image of married life because you're so unhappy in your own.  I know lots of people who are married and have a great time, so don't try to make your failed relationship seem like the fate of all marriages. 

- Maybe you're an asshole.  Maybe your marriage sucks because you're a shitty husband.  Buy your wife a fucking bouquet, take the kids for the night and let her go out.  Do something you used to do together before you were miserable.  Do something.  You shitty piece of shit deadbeat. 

- Sometimes I think dudes say this stuff because they think it makes them seem cool.  I used to work with a guy that would end every phone conversation with his wife by hanging up, holding the phone out and yelling "CUNT!".  Then he would look and see if I laughed or not.  Newsflash:  I think it's way cooler if you love your wife and can't wait to see her at the end of the day.

2) "Your life is over when you have kids..."

  Look, I don't have any children, so I don't really know what the fuck I'm talking about.  But...your life isn't over.  Your life as you previously understood life to be is over.  But what did you think was going to happen?  You were just going to dump your kid off with a sitter and continue going to fancy dinners and bars?  What I think a lot of people mean when they say this is; "I had kids before I was ready, and now I don't know what to do".  That's fine.  I hope you figure it out.  But don't put having kids in a negative light because you don't want to grow up and stay in on a Friday night.  This only counts when it's a married couple that had a kid and now does nothing but complain.  An "oops" baby is a horse of a different color.

Shit nobody tells you when you're a kid that I wish someone did

  As you get older, you experience new things pretty frequently.  Living on your own for the first time, your first bad breakup, etc etc.  Big life changes are to be expected by any rational human being.  But there are a few things that happen as you get older that aren't really explained to you that are pretty key.  Here, in no particular order are five important pieces of information I would give a 21 year old that would actually listen to me. 


1)  Once you're out on your own, you spend more than half your time doing shit you don't want to do*.

  This probably varies on how irresponsible you choose to be, and what your living situation is.  But no matter what, you're spending time doing shit you'd rather not be doing.  Say you live in apartment.  Even if you don't have to mow the lawn, you still have to sit down and pay bills or do the laundry.  Watching that fith hour of Law and Order: SVU isn't going to make sure your cell phone doesn't get cut off.  No matter who you are or where you live, you have to run errands, clean up, cook and all that stuff.  Then once you do own something, you can add maintenence and upkeep to all that other stuff. 
  Sure, you can put stuff off.  But as I've gotten older, I now realize that's just delaying the inevidable.  There's a reason my dad needed me to take out the garbage right that minute, rather than wait until later.  If you just do the shit you need to do when it needs to get done, you have more time to do the stuff you WANT to be doing.  He was trying to teach me that.

2)  Stress is a mother fucker

  This one is a bit tricky because I wouldn't want to scare kids into thinking that adult life is nothing but people putting the screws to you about every little thing.  But sometimes it is.  The biggest thing about stress is learing to deal with it.  In my case it was stopping myself from eating a whole bunch of garbage when work or something else got to be overwhelming.  Sure it makes you feel better to rely on a vice, but it's just fucking you over in the long run.  Breathe, relax, be logical and you can work through just about anything.  If things get to be too much even after all that, talk to someone. 

3) All that shit about hangovers, and not being able to eat what you want is true

  I maintain that you don't really start getting hangovers until you're over 25.  Chances are you've had a hangover if you're under 25 and drink.  But not the crippling hangover that lasts two days (sometimes more) and extends to the beggining of your work week.  THAT'S a hangover. 
  It's cliche, but that stuff about changing your eating habits is true too.  When I was 22, I worked out more than twice a week and didn't have to concern myself as much with what I ate.  I was still fat, but a tighter, more in shape fat.  I could still lose 10-15 pounds at the drop of a hat if I put my mind to it.  Now?  Forget it.  Between not wanting to spend my free time at the gym, and how easy it is to eat fast food, it's a struggle.  There are still assholes you're friends with that can eat whatever they want and stay skinny through most of their 20's.  But by 28, time starts to catch up with those jerk offs too.  You're told both of these things when you're younger, but they need to be emphasised more. 
  Oh yeah, kind of on point, but one day you're going to wake up and stuff just hurts.  You'll have no idea why,but it will.  Have fun with that. 

4) People that are part of your life for a long time will cease to be there

  If you're lucky like me, you'll keep a lot of good friends for most of your life.  But wether it's death, moving or just plain bad circumstances people will be gone.  You'll work with someone for multiple years, develop a friendship and then one day just never talk to them again.  Your childhood neighbors move, and after nearly 20 years of seeing them every day, they're gone.  It's something, at least for me that never crossed my mind when I was younger.  It's not always a bad thing, just a part of growing up.

5) The older you get, the faster time moves

  Days turn into weeks, turn into months, turn into years.  Then one day you say to yourself; 'Holy shit that was ten years ago...'  It's something I dwell on perhaps too much, but it constantly blows my mind how relentless time is.  It's never stopping for me, for you, for anyone.  Enjoy as much of it as you can.

*Unless you're really rich

Stars and Stripes Forever

  A week ago today I was like a kid on Christmas Eve.  Instead of sugarplum fairies dancing through my head, there were brats and plastic beer cups.  It was July 3rd, and I was ready to enjoy the long weekend.  And boy did I.

  But after all of the crushed light beers and junk food was over, I had a small realization:  There is nowhere in the world I would rather be on July 4th than Bartlett, IL.  It's where I grew up, and where I still live today (total townie), and we do it right.  As long as I can remember, it's been the best time of year in our little shit of a Village (not city).  As an adult, especially one without children, the appeal of the 4th of July is obvious.  Days off of work, cook outs, day drinking.  But even as a kid I think I realized that Independence Day was special.  

  It starts with all of the tents and rides going up in Apple Orchard Park.  There's a little bit of electricity to the air and everyone young and old knows that means it's time to get loose.  Whether you're a twenty something looking to get blind drunk, or a 9 year old that knows they're going to get a little extra leeway because mom and dad a couple extra beers on the walk over, it's party time.  

  The fest usually opens on the night of July 3rd.  If you're smart (and in close enough proximity) you walk.  This walk is the first part that makes the weekend special.  For what I think a lot of people would consider a bedroom community, I don't feel like there's a lot of neighborly interaction in Bartlett.  Not enough as least.  But over this span of a few days, especially the first day, everyone in town are buddies.  Open containers?  Sure!  Sharing beers with strangers?  Why not!?  In that walk the aforementioned mom and dad get to have those couple extra beers, and they don't have to worry about driving the mini van home.  

  For the first time in a couple of years I made it a point to go to the fest, and hang out at the beer tent.  And it's the same as it ever was.  Perfect.  The right mix of old friends and quite a few people that make one think; "Where the hell did that guy come from?"  Teenagers awkwardly smoking cigarettes, pre teens running around like idiots because they don't quite know what to do with themselves.  It's all there for you to enjoy.  Everyone is in a good mood, and seeing your tee ball coach after you've had three luke warm Miller Lites isn't the laborious conversation it is if you cross paths at Jewel.  Personally, I like to end my fest attendance with one night.  It's the perfect amount of time spent under a hot tent.  

  The next day, on the 4th, that's what you save your energy for.  Even as a kid, I would wake up knowing it was a special day.  Before the sweet release of drinking 25 beers, it was cake and hot dogs and blowing shit up.  There's that same electricity throughout town.  People walking all over, waving, stopping by parties on the way to another.  

  As time went on, and legalities would allow (being over 21), I started throwing parties at my parents house.  The first one was spur of the moment, but up until two years ago (when I moved out), I like to think we threw a hell of a shindig.  Things have tapered down a bit the last couple of years, but we still have a great day in the pool, and the magic is still in the air.  

  The rest of the weekend continues on like this.  Good vibes, friendly people, a bingo tent to attend.  It's all there in our boring little town for 4 days.  Sure, it's probably cool to hang out on a yacht, and watch fireworks on Lake Michigan.  But I'll take my family, friends, and parents rusty 4ft pool every year.

Hey, remember that one time...

  Recently, I've been spending a lot of long, lonely nights at work. When one is unhappy with their current station, and has time to let their mind wander, they tend to think of happy thoughts.  Well, unless you're a total bummer.  In that case, shape up!  Life ain't so bad! 
  While thinking of these happy thoughts, it occurred to me that I have a lot of really happy, fond memories that are attached to, what seemed at the time anyway, inconsequential events.  I'm sure everyone has these, and they are super fun to think about.  Anyway, here are a couple of mine that popped up recently, please share yours in the comments and we'll all have a fun discussion.


-  My dear friend Will and I were supposed to go see the band Ceremony on a Sunday evening. There was a noon Bears game that he came over to watch, and we were to head to the city afterward.  It was November and the weather was just starting to turn, so it was chilly with what Tom Skilling would call a "wintry mix".  For some reason, neither of us spoke much during the game, and it was almost as if both of us were nervous.  Finally, as the 4th quarter was winding down, Will took a deep breath and said; "Hey, what if we don't go to this show...?"
  I had never been so relieved to hear a question in my life.  As I too, did not really want to go.  I told him that I had been trying to figure out a way to ask the same thing, but we both thought the other REALLY wanted to go and didn't want to be a bummer.  We laughed and then settled into the couches in my parents basement to watch football on that shitty November day.  Like Americans. 
  This will always stick out as such a happy moment between me and my buddy.  I'm not really sure why.


-  There's an equally less thrilling story with this one.  But for some reason it's just burned into my brain.  It was the summer of 2010, and it was a gorgeous summer night in my friend Sam's garage.  See, Sam's garage was clubhouse of sorts.  For a lot of people all the way back to high school, for myself from the age of 18 until he moved to the city with his now wife in 2011.
  Anyhow, it was a weeknight and Sam texted to see if I wanted to enjoy some cold beers.  I arrived with some Shiner Bocks and a pack of smokes and we drank, and talked while Pat and Ron gave us the Cubs game as background music.  Eventually our buddy Joe Legions arrived and more of the same went on until it was time to call it a night.  The Cubs won, but it's not like it was an important game.  We had a good time, but nothing significant happened.  I can't tell you why I think on it so fondly, even down to remembering what kind of beer I brought over, but I always will.  I've had so many good times, with big stories that involve hi-jinx, and way more people, but this one is what I'll always remember.  This was the essence of why the garage was so great.


These are the two that have come to mind recently.  Like I said they're not of REAL significance, but they're special to me.  These little things are what make life worth living.  I have a thousand more that I'm sure will come to mind, but for now, these will hold me over.