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Rustin Jessen

Doesn't play well with others.

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life

32

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Today marks the end of my 32nd year on this planet, and it marks the beginning of a new year of adventures.

I’m sitting here in my office, reflecting on what wisdom I might pass on to the world as a wise elder of the community, and I’m drawing a big fat blank.

I’d love to claim credit for getting this far into life… but I’m afraid all the praise belongs to those wonderful folks who have surrounded me and prevented me from screwing things up too much.

My Mom & Dad, my sisters and my friends got me started off well and made sure I wasn’t a loafer. My teachers, coaches, advisors and mentors who taught me about the big wide world. My wonderful wife and son who make every day worth giving my all, and keep me excited for what’s to come. All those folks deserve the thanks for this life I enjoy.

It’s true that I don’t have much wisdom to impart, but I’m going to take year number 33 (and any more that I’m fortunate enough to have) and do the best with it that I can. New experiences, new joys, new hurt, new fears, new confidence, new failures and new successes… I’ll take them all happily and add more to my story.

Thanks for being with me. Thanks for helping me make this life. I like it, and I’m happy to have you along with me.

Thank You

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About a month ago, at the very top of the new year, I posted a thank-you note on Facebook. It popped into my brain again today, and I realized there are many people who I owe so much thanks that wouldn’t see it on Facebook.

So, here ‘goes. It went a little something like this:

Today, for the first time in a very long time, I’ve had quiet solitude that came with a sense of inner peace.

2012 was a year of such ridiculous loss, I can’t even comprehend how we kept going. Every single month, at least two loved ones passed away. Some months saw more. Friends, coworkers, relatives, mentors, siblings and tiny babies. Written out like that, it’s just completely unreal.

Through all of it, I didn’t realize how much I counted on my extended network to give me a boost when I was in darker places than I care to admit. My eyes are open today… and so I look at you, dear friend on (the internet).

Thank you so very much for every single message, post or extra moment of thought you gave me and my family through hard times. I’m humbled to my core by every bit of it.

Some of you I’ve met in real life, some I haven’t. Some of you I have let down or annoyed, but you showed love. For the most part, I’ve given you no reason at all to help me, but you did. You are amazing.

If you think I’m not talking to you, you’re wrong. You have transformed my life. I am a better person for having you in it, even distantly.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

Since I appreciate my Twitter friends, and all 4 of you who read this blog just as much as those who saw it on Facebook, I just thought it was important to re-post here.

Thank you so very very much for helping my little family through 2012. We just couldn’t have done it without you.

The Life & Times of Bish Davis

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My grandpa passed away tonight. He went quietly, peacefully and without pain. I’m sad, and I will miss him.

I’d love to tell you all about him but, thankfully, I can let him tell the story. Trust me when I say he could spin a yarn like nobody else on earth. I’m happy to have heard so many.

A few years ago, I told him I wanted to record some of his stories. He assured me that he just wouldn’t know what to say. I got him into the booth, tested the mic a bit, then started rolling. Without a single prompting from me, he told story after story for a little over two hours. It was magical for me.

Here’s what came of it.

LaMar Eugene “Bish” Davis –
March 28, 1922 – December 29, 2012

The Beginning

Going Overseas

BARman

Kennecot

Bessie Davis

Just Breathe

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I was watching a TED talk by Ze Frank about his various projects full of wonderfulness. He told the story of his Chillout song.

I knew all about this project long ago, and I’ve heard it before… but this time it sounded different. I can’t say exactly how, but I have new ears. It’s all much more powerful. Much more meaningful.

Ze told the story of how this project came about, and how he put all the pieces together. He closed by letting the song play in it’s entirety.

It started and my heart warmed. It rolled a bit more and my emotions started welling up… and at the 31 second mark I just totally lost it. Standing alone in my kitchen, half a cheese sandwich in hand, I balled my big baby brown eyes out. A big sloppy cry that would make Oprah blush. I could feel every emotion and moment of my life weighing on me, and it just came out.

There has been so much loss, so much hurt, and so much worry. It’s just so heavy.

Hey.

That little flicker of a heart beat went out. Why?

I’m devastated that our little peanut didn’t get to join us in life, but more so that my poor Janey has been so smothered by the loss. If only I could do the hurting instead of her. There’s already enough for her to worry about. Why this?

My efforts are feeble. Just shots in the dark hoping something will help. What kind of a man can’t bring comfort to his wife?

It’s just so heavy.

You’re OK.

My sister Jackie is gone. Just gone, and I miss her so much. I wish there was some way for her to know how much I love her. For me to tell her again. To just make absolutely sure she knows.

I want to scoop up her kids and make sure they know how much their mom loved them. To make sure they feel the warmth and love I know she would want them to feel. But somehow I can’t keep my own life together enough to offer help.

It’s all just so heavy.

You’ll be fine.

Everybody likes to say that “each day it will get easier”. Well, what the hell man? When does that start? I’m dealing with it. I’m doing my best to make it work, but it sure as hell hasn’t gotten any easier. I’m tired. I’m just so tired of trying to make it work.

It’s all just so damned heavy.

Just breathe.

To cap it off, I’m ashamed to have all these feelings. Sure, this stuff is hard to deal with, but it isn’t the hardest thing a person has handled. It seems silly for me to have such a hard time making things work when people, the world over, make better decisions in much worse situations.

A few years ago it wasn’t hard to get me to spout my mantra “Life’s just not that serious”. Somewhere deep down, maybe deeper than I’d like to admit, I know that’s still true. But even so, life sure does feel heavy sometimes.

So, here it is. I’m breathing, Ze, I’m breathing. I’ve had a good reality check tonight, and a big sloppy embarrassing cry right there in the middle of the kitchen. And after the cry…. just breathing. Quiet contemplative breathing.

A moment to myself to readjust. To simplify. To make sure I have my feet under me.

Tomorrow will be better.

Hey, you’re OK. You’ll be fine. Just breathe.

You were asleep

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  • Me: Nanna, why did you poop downstairs?
  • Nanna: …
  • Me: Nanna?
  • Nanna: …
  • Me: Nanna!!
  • Nanna: What?
  • Me: Why did you poop downstairs last night.
  • Nanna: My stomach was upset and you were asleep.
  • Me: You could have woken me up if it was an emergency.
  • Nanna: I didn’t want to wake you. You were already having a hard night with Gavin wailing so much. I tried to hold it… but just couldn’t.
  • Me: Well, I appreciate that, but I would have preferred you waking me up to cleaning up your poop from the carpet.
  • Nanna: I’m sorry.
  • Me: I know. Just wake me up next time, ok?
  • Nanna: Ok.
  • Me: …
  • Nanna: Are there any bones left from the steaks on Sunday?
  • Me: Do you think that’s what gave you the runs?
  • Nanna: Maybe.
  • Me: No.

Shut in… er… Freelancer

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I haven’t left my house today. Well, that’s not entirely true… I did make it out to the mailbox once, the driveway once, and the front yard to turn on some sprinklers. But that was the extent of time I spent outside of the four walls I call home.

Not every day is quite like this one. I usually get out for a walk, or at least a quick drive somewhere at some point in the day. Today is just one of those few that a chance never popped up. It’s days like today I can feel the beginnings of cabin fever.

It’s a strange life I live. It’s incomprehensible to some of my friends that I don’t get up and go to work in the morning in the same way that they do. I don’t kiss my family goodbye and start a commute. I don’t call during my lunch hour, and have a big greeting when I come home for the day.

I get up when my son wakes up (usually in between 5AM-6AM). We go downstairs and play with toys while watching whatever Disney cartoon I can convince the crappy downstairs DVD player to accept. Then sometime around 8:00 we’ll come upstairs and have a little breakfast with Phineas and Ferb (I’ll have to write another post on how much I love Phineas and Ferb, seriously). Sometime during the breakfast window I’ll pop in and say good morning to my lovely bride. Most days she springs right out of bed and throws the curtains open with a song… other times, I may have to entice her with the promise of strong coffee. But it’s usually the first one.

We trade positions, her taking over with the boy and me stepping in to get ready for the day. A quick shower, throw some clothes on… then my trusty dog and I bid the family farewell for the journey down the hall to work. I can usually make the commute in 30 or 40 seconds, unless I hit lingering traffic of toys from the previous day. But I usually keep moving at hallway speeds all the way in.

I spend the day working as hard as I can. I hear all the goings-on of the house and I’ll poke my head out if things sound particularly interesting. I pop into the kitchen to make a sandwich for lunch, and back to work for the second half of the day.

Around 5:00 I call it a day and come out to help with final dinner preparations. We eat, play for a while… then it’s bath and bedtime. Each day brings a slightly different set of events, but it’s usually a variation on this theme.

As you can see, it’s not difficult at all for me to spend entire days inside. I don’t see the sky beyond my office window unless I make it happen. Like I said earlier, I usually do make it happen. If it’s a run to the store for a drink, or a family walk after dinner, I try to get SOME outside time.

Today, I didn’t. Today I spent just about every waking second inside and looking at a computer screen. Work is busy and new requests are stacking up. Given all the problems to have, being busy is probably the one that sucks the least.

I’m feeling the beginnings of stir craziness. I’ll have to make sure I see the sun a little more tomorrow.

So, there’s a little slice of my life. Cool eh? Thanks for letting me vent some useless nothingness out into the world.