It should come as no surprise to anyone reading this that swallowing my pride is a genetically ingrained difficulty that I sometimes have varied success with. Lately its more like varied failure.
Between not having health, not riding bikes, not having a job, or any fucking idea when or what I will be doing next, not having rich parents to pay for my language school, not having language school to get a proper visa, not smiling as a result of all of the above, and having to bear my ass for more than one peer group I have swallowed enough pride to be full for a while. Its been only short glimpses of normal Scott and a whole lot of shitty negative depressed Scott lately.
I actually tried to make a list of the things I have going for me here right now so that I could change my perspective a little. It was not a very fruitful exercise. But one of the things I do feel I have here right now is community. I have friends. Really good friends. friends who despite the language barriers are there to listen and to add a little uplifting insight or another solution, or just to go sit in a quiet museum as the rain starts to roll in again. I have friends to hold my hand when I feel a breakdown coming on, and I have friends who have opened their homes to me in my time of need. I have friend who are certified to push acupuncture needles way into my ass, hook them up to car batteries and zap my nerves back to health. And all of this is great... but its starting to feel like a band-aid on a cut artery.
Not having work, not making anything with my hands, not riding my bikes or ANYTHING physical for that matter (doctors orders) not seeing the sun, not playing outside, and not being able to see a time when those things will resolve themselves is getting to be a heavy cross to carry around. A trip to the beach, a found bicycle, a movie to escape for a bit, a couple joints, a drink when the sun goes down, a fucking bath for Christ's sake, a walk, some art, space to write, and all the time in the world to chisel away at that list of things I cant do in the summer months due to a lack of time, is no match for the crippling depression of being fired from work, waiting to find out what is next, and feeling like the language and cultural barriers are too great for whatever is next to happen here in Italy. Will I get to meet Livia's Baby? Will I get to see Tony Dragoni running around the beaches of Marche next summer? Will I get to do another mountain bike ride with Santo Claudio? Will I have to settle on skype and email and FaceBook with the friends I have made here as my only form of communication like I have to with the friends back in the States? Am I losing my community again?
The idea of community is one that strikes a strong chord with me. Last year I read a book that was given to me by a friend who has come along way mentally and emotionally since I met him back in 1997 that characterized me (based on qualifying questions) as a "communal tool user, independent thinker, and emotive nostalgic communicator" a definition I have to agree with and one that spells disaster for my current situation. I have community here. Its helping me as much as it can, and yet I am haunted by my past, and retreating into an oppositional frame of reference that is screaming at me to RUN!
Run before you ruin these friendships with your bitching, before you get busted for being here illegally, before you alienate those who really do love you, before you fuck things up like you always do.
This is how my overactive mind wakes me up in the morning. And I don't know what to do to fix it. Cause that's what I do - I fix things. I fix bikes, I make it look easy, I explain it so you can do it too next time, so you feel more self sufficient, so you don't have to be dependant on others to do what you love to do. And yet here I am, dependant on others, with no foreseeable path to fixing what is broken.
Except the WAIT. Waiting for email responses, waiting for the doctors ok to ride a bike, waiting for job offers to come through, waiting to be told to fuck off, waiting for the rain to stop in this cafe, waiting for sleep to be less fitful, waiting for permission to live, waiting for an answer... or at least a question I know the answer to. Waiting for that lump in my throat that is certainly my stubborn pride to go down.
waiting...
waiting...
waiting....
S.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
let me explain...
Before anyone goes and calls the international red cross and gets me busted for not having proper paperwork all cause they were scared that I have not responded much to emails, nor posted here on the bloggity blog, or been on (gasp) facebook very much in the last 26 days, let me explain....
I returned home from the Sicily tour a very happy and excited fella. It was awesome and I was really excited to talk to the bosses about the transition from mechanic to tour leader next season, a transition that would help me with my 4 year plan to get out of debt and yet change my role and do something new. So did the bosses...but not quite in the way I had imagined. The very next day a meeting was called, in town at a cafe where monica and igor met me to tell me that they were restructuring the position of mechanic and I was not going to be invited back for the 2013 season. (Even typing this right now still makes me turn cold and sink for a second) They did however "promise" me 4-6 weeks of tours, a flight credit back in the spring, and at least half of one big 30 day expedition trip cause they always need a mechanic on those. When pressed for other alternatives (like helping with the transition, informing them of my plan to live elsewhere next season and letting them in on my 4 year plan - none of which they knew about even though I had mentioned it to my manager on several occasions) they produced a cut and paste email of quotes from my blog as proof they they are not only making the right decision based on my "attitude" and "moody nature" but that it has become a matter of safety and security to the other people at the farm. I of course called BULLSHIT! and proceeded to spend the last 10 days of my contract being questioned about my work ethic, second guessing myself and my grasp of reality, making sure I didnt owe someone an apology, feeling paranoid and defensive, avoiding eye contact and lunches, sleeping elsewhere, having people walk on pins and needles around me and treat me as though I was going to act violent or volatile at any minute. Not unlike a situation of domestic violence around mental abuse. Of course I felt trapped in that if I did act out any of the betrayal, mistreatment, distrust, or hurt that I felt I would only be proving to them that they were right and that I should not be invited back at all. They have successfully painted an erroneous picture of who I am based on an email of cut and paste quotes from my blog, that everyone admits to not having the time to read, but who also will not tell me who wrote it. I was not about to give them what they wanted. I stayed professional, stayed busy, and defended myself where i felt my integrity was being questioned with a host of real life examples from the last 3 years.
These are the people I surprised with gelato and treats for the past three seasons when things were overwhelmingly busy. These are the people who call me "Uncle Scott" to their children, these are the people who were supposed to get my back in trade for the over 1500 hours I put in every summer at a seasonal job.
I have spent the last 26 days floored, scared, terrified actually, bummed, really upset and angry, and only mildly encouraged to continue my relationship with them in any way whatsoever. I have been freaking out about the fact that I am less than a year away from financial freedom through my debt consolidation program (which I now have to quit and go into collections before filing bankruptcy for a mere 6 grand), I have been overwhelmed with sadness at the fact that I might not have a choice but to leave behind the friends and connections I have established here in the last 3 year, that I would not be able to stick around and see Livia's baby born in January. I have been saddened by the feelings of abandonment to the point of an absolute bed ridden melt down of sobbing and panting a week ago.
I have been terrified to the point of not enjoying any of the activities that keep me alive, like cycling and jerking off... and last week it all collided (as it does for me in times of crisis) into my feelings of guilt and health collaborating in a massive amount of pain that I can only describe as lower abdomen and testicles. Yeah thats right, on top of all that I was freaking out about the strange on and off hip and abdomen pain that I have had since May that spent three very distinct days last weekend radiating pain not from my hip, but from my left nut - a fear that landed me in the hospital, on an exam table, pants down, two-inch flaccid baby-cock flapping around in the overhead lights while a crooked doctor prods my crotch, lifting my sagging ballsack out of his way, while his nurse looks sideways at my tattoos, and a friend translates while holding back laughter. When I got up from the table there was a pool of sweat where my lower back had been.
Not the way I had thought I would end the 2012 season in the least bit!
Good news is... its not cancer, or kidney stones, prostrate malfunction, a perforated bladder, hernia, or even a malformed hip socket...although my liver needs to go on a diet I'm told... information that spawned a few jokes and the following bar room art later in the week when I celebrated my health the olde fashioned way - with a pint of ale...
...its something called lombocruralgia (in Italian medical circles anyhow)... a strained nerve in the back that radiates pain from the back up and over the hip joint down the f.u.p.a. and, if unchecked for a long time or after heavy lifting, the pain moves right down the gootch and into the nuts. Surgery? I think not... Stretching, Yoga, Message, Pain Management, Herbs, a week off the bike.... Sure. Point is - Im fine MENTALLY and can begin trying to figure out what the FUCK Im going to do between now and next spring when the empty promise of 4-6 weeks of tours turns out to be a big joke and I throw a match and a can of gas into the windows of the Farm.
JUST KIDDING.....Dont go forwarding that on to the bosses now...which brings me to my next order of business.
The Blog has been SHUT DOWN to outside visitors. Which is why you got that invite in your email the other day. Please dont forward it to anyone, and if you dont have a google email account, WAKE UP! Its 2012 and despite not having the flying cars we were all promised - there is NOT REASON to be using that SHITTY HOTMAIL or MSN account anymore! Seriously.
Im going to stay busy with some stretching, yoga, pain meds, and clearing my head on walks in the woods. Im looking into some language classes and the possibility of being legal next season while I wait to meet with the boss again for a FORMAL written offer of work next year. Needless to say there is way more to this story and I dont trust ANYone there right now but what can I do? In the meantime send me a note. Im fine. Tell me about you. And dont ask me when Im coming back to the states - I have NO IDEA!
S.
I returned home from the Sicily tour a very happy and excited fella. It was awesome and I was really excited to talk to the bosses about the transition from mechanic to tour leader next season, a transition that would help me with my 4 year plan to get out of debt and yet change my role and do something new. So did the bosses...but not quite in the way I had imagined. The very next day a meeting was called, in town at a cafe where monica and igor met me to tell me that they were restructuring the position of mechanic and I was not going to be invited back for the 2013 season. (Even typing this right now still makes me turn cold and sink for a second) They did however "promise" me 4-6 weeks of tours, a flight credit back in the spring, and at least half of one big 30 day expedition trip cause they always need a mechanic on those. When pressed for other alternatives (like helping with the transition, informing them of my plan to live elsewhere next season and letting them in on my 4 year plan - none of which they knew about even though I had mentioned it to my manager on several occasions) they produced a cut and paste email of quotes from my blog as proof they they are not only making the right decision based on my "attitude" and "moody nature" but that it has become a matter of safety and security to the other people at the farm. I of course called BULLSHIT! and proceeded to spend the last 10 days of my contract being questioned about my work ethic, second guessing myself and my grasp of reality, making sure I didnt owe someone an apology, feeling paranoid and defensive, avoiding eye contact and lunches, sleeping elsewhere, having people walk on pins and needles around me and treat me as though I was going to act violent or volatile at any minute. Not unlike a situation of domestic violence around mental abuse. Of course I felt trapped in that if I did act out any of the betrayal, mistreatment, distrust, or hurt that I felt I would only be proving to them that they were right and that I should not be invited back at all. They have successfully painted an erroneous picture of who I am based on an email of cut and paste quotes from my blog, that everyone admits to not having the time to read, but who also will not tell me who wrote it. I was not about to give them what they wanted. I stayed professional, stayed busy, and defended myself where i felt my integrity was being questioned with a host of real life examples from the last 3 years.
These are the people I surprised with gelato and treats for the past three seasons when things were overwhelmingly busy. These are the people who call me "Uncle Scott" to their children, these are the people who were supposed to get my back in trade for the over 1500 hours I put in every summer at a seasonal job.
I have spent the last 26 days floored, scared, terrified actually, bummed, really upset and angry, and only mildly encouraged to continue my relationship with them in any way whatsoever. I have been freaking out about the fact that I am less than a year away from financial freedom through my debt consolidation program (which I now have to quit and go into collections before filing bankruptcy for a mere 6 grand), I have been overwhelmed with sadness at the fact that I might not have a choice but to leave behind the friends and connections I have established here in the last 3 year, that I would not be able to stick around and see Livia's baby born in January. I have been saddened by the feelings of abandonment to the point of an absolute bed ridden melt down of sobbing and panting a week ago.
I have been terrified to the point of not enjoying any of the activities that keep me alive, like cycling and jerking off... and last week it all collided (as it does for me in times of crisis) into my feelings of guilt and health collaborating in a massive amount of pain that I can only describe as lower abdomen and testicles. Yeah thats right, on top of all that I was freaking out about the strange on and off hip and abdomen pain that I have had since May that spent three very distinct days last weekend radiating pain not from my hip, but from my left nut - a fear that landed me in the hospital, on an exam table, pants down, two-inch flaccid baby-cock flapping around in the overhead lights while a crooked doctor prods my crotch, lifting my sagging ballsack out of his way, while his nurse looks sideways at my tattoos, and a friend translates while holding back laughter. When I got up from the table there was a pool of sweat where my lower back had been.
 |
| smells like coffee but hey, no blood! |
 |
| yes, that is half a roll of duct tape holding the cushions down to the exam table... |
 |
| ancient castle walls built into the architecture of the hospital underground. Classy huh? |
 |
| I was originally just going to post this photo as the next "Photo Caption Contest" and freak everyone out that the reason I have not been in communique lately was of a gestational explanation...but thats just not funny now is it? |
 |
| its not "fat" its just "big boned" |
Not the way I had thought I would end the 2012 season in the least bit!
Good news is... its not cancer, or kidney stones, prostrate malfunction, a perforated bladder, hernia, or even a malformed hip socket...although my liver needs to go on a diet I'm told... information that spawned a few jokes and the following bar room art later in the week when I celebrated my health the olde fashioned way - with a pint of ale...
 |
| thats my liver, dreading the stairs and late for a meeting. |
 |
| my liver and its bad habits, worst fears, and redemption plan... |
...its something called lombocruralgia (in Italian medical circles anyhow)... a strained nerve in the back that radiates pain from the back up and over the hip joint down the f.u.p.a. and, if unchecked for a long time or after heavy lifting, the pain moves right down the gootch and into the nuts. Surgery? I think not... Stretching, Yoga, Message, Pain Management, Herbs, a week off the bike.... Sure. Point is - Im fine MENTALLY and can begin trying to figure out what the FUCK Im going to do between now and next spring when the empty promise of 4-6 weeks of tours turns out to be a big joke and I throw a match and a can of gas into the windows of the Farm.
JUST KIDDING.....Dont go forwarding that on to the bosses now...which brings me to my next order of business.
The Blog has been SHUT DOWN to outside visitors. Which is why you got that invite in your email the other day. Please dont forward it to anyone, and if you dont have a google email account, WAKE UP! Its 2012 and despite not having the flying cars we were all promised - there is NOT REASON to be using that SHITTY HOTMAIL or MSN account anymore! Seriously.
Im going to stay busy with some stretching, yoga, pain meds, and clearing my head on walks in the woods. Im looking into some language classes and the possibility of being legal next season while I wait to meet with the boss again for a FORMAL written offer of work next year. Needless to say there is way more to this story and I dont trust ANYone there right now but what can I do? In the meantime send me a note. Im fine. Tell me about you. And dont ask me when Im coming back to the states - I have NO IDEA!
S.