How to Make a Blomelet, p. II – “The Yolk of Is”

As a lad, I remember a commercial for the Navy narrated by that sleazy dude from Requiem for a Dream who, having an ample supply of “H”, takes advantage of strung out junkie Jennifer Connelly. Of course, he wouldn’t play this part until well after providing his voice for our nation’s guardians of the sea.

I digress. Anyway, guy with heroin, by way of a recorded message transmitted through wires, satellite dishes, and what have you asked me a profound question. With austere sincerity, he asked “if you wrote a book about your life, would anyone want to read it?” I can’t say I approach life with a “what would a Navy SEAL do?” mentality. However, I do think that the story of Jarrett is worth telling and worth reading.

That said, the proposed “blomelet” will have at least three eggs – consider this egg (or “suckass post” if you’ll excuse the language) to contain “the yolk of is”, the previous “suckass post” contained “the yolk of was”. The next “suckass post” will have “the yolk of to be”. Within “the yolk of is” you’ll find –

a. A 10-year-old girl

b. A divorce

c. A loyal doggy named Lily

d. (A) Loving parents

e.A 9 to 5 job, if I lived in China

f. (A) balance

Picking up where I left off last week –

Listen, facts a and f were written in my “that said” phase, I edited it a little bit, but there is still a pretty obnoxious infestation of “that said”. Think of it like Picasso’s “blue period” minus the blue paint and the artistic genius. That said, starting with fact b, I will no longer feel obligated to preface all statements with “that said”. I’m certainly not suggesting I won’t use it again, but not nearly to the extent as I have.

a. That said, here is a fact – I’ve a 10-year-old daughter, Quinn has only really known a dad who wobbles when he walks, slurs when he talks and had the coordination of a drunk toddler. She loves me for me, not who I was or who I could someday be.

1. That said, here’s a supporting fact for a fact – she is more of who I was than I ever imagined. She loves to draw (some of her artwork is displayed below) – And she’s great with words

b. Listen, the fact that I’m divorced is a source of great shame for me. I dread the “marital status” box on forms and surveys, it’s an unsuspecting, unsolicited reminder of what I perceive as my biggest failure. Jessica and I get along just fine. In fact, I’ve information to share one that topic, but it deserves its own subtopic bullet –

1. That said (What? That one fit right in), here is the aforementioned subtopic:
   • While I expound on this, I’m going to see how MS Word handles a barrage of subtopics
     1. Jessica and I divorced in 2012. Quinn was 4 years old at that timeMy job didn’t pay all my bills and she needed help paying the mortgage (Yes, I left it all on her. Hells yes, I’m often disgusted with myself for doing so).
        1. We both needed help with Quinn
           • In late 2013, Jessica allowed me to move back in for a modest monthly allowance and equal partnership in the rearing of that little girl that keeps calling me “dad” and her “mom”
             1. Our commitment to be the best possible parents for Quinn enabled us to look past our differences

 

1. Quinn has turned out to be quite a little person – a charming combination of her father’s wit and creativity and her mother’s graceful good looks and steely resolve.
2. I take Quinn’s ascension to model child as a small consolation for the divorce. To put a spin on the Stephen Stills assertion that “if you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with”, I say – “if you can’t live the life you love, love the life you have”

c. Listen, I have a wiener dog mix, her name is Lily. She has major anxiety about strangers. Why? Time for some vetereudarian (veterinarian+ Freudian) analysis. When Jessica and I separated, Lily became my roommate. A grouchy, misanthropic, adorable squatter whose only functions were to eat, sleep, pee and poop on demand, and most importantly, defend me from the horrors lurking beyond my front window (Read: EVERYTHING with the temerity to traverse the sidewalk outside my door).

1. Listen, I had a real job at the time, so she was alone during the day. Without me there to assure her that the children riding bikes in the parking lot were not demons ambulating at a terrific speed by means of two wheels. In her mind, they became, demons ambulating at a terrific speed by means of two wheels.
2. Listen, then Lily and I moved back in with Quinn and Jessica and two other derpy dogs. Lily, having been away for about 4 years, had forgotten the pecking order. At the top is a minpin named “Pauper”. She might be a female, but she is without question the alpha male (alphemale?)
3. Listen, at the bottom of the pecking order (and quite happy about it) is a chocolate lab named Lucy. Lucy is a gentle, hopelessly optimistic soul. I imagine she would talk like the dog in “Up” and continually say “I don’t know you, but I love you.”
4. The result has been a dog caught between two fundamentally different personalities that converge to make an incompetent bully. She’s not afraid of big dogs because, in her mind, they’re all gentle giants who love everything, and all other dogs, especially the small ones, have to be shown (from 10’ or more away) what a vicious killer she is.
5. Her worldview consists of a waify dog trying to steal her food, a ditzy big dog who loves everything and humanoid imps with wheels for legs.

Actually, this is artwork from my daughter’s pencil – chip off the old block

d. Listen, I have parents. Two of them. I call one “ma” and the other “dad” – except this one time in middle school when I received some award (a major award that I won by mind power). They were with me in the school library for some reception for all the major award winners. Each MAR (Major Award Recipient) had to stand to introduce any guest they brought along. Like most middle schoolers, I wasn’t especially fond of speaking in front of people. So, in my haste to get it over with I pointed to the nearest parent, my dad and said “this is my mom” then I gestured, without actually looking, at my dear mother and called her my dad. Moreover, my younger sister, Chelsey, was in attendance. Poor Chelsey must have been 11 or so and in the midst of a thermonuclear breakout. The acne equivalent of Chernobyl was on her nose (or it could have been her forehead) and there she was, an L7 neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie, totally cramping my style (bowl haircut, tapered Levi’s, a New York Rangers Starter jacket and Fila hi-tops the size of space boots). I think I almost introduced her as “pimple” or “the zit”. I digress. The point is that now, like then, my folks have my back. My mom is my biggest fan. When I put out a blog or update my status on Facebook, my mom is usually the first to comment. When I need direction for a story I’m working on I call my dad and he’s always willing to read, comment and act as a sounding board.

Like me, they’ve also become amateur neurologists, often taking me to the big city for my annual visit with the the clickety-clack tube (MRI) and the neurosurgeon it sends the pictures to. They often help me to remember to all about this tick or that ache. I’d give you an example, but I can’t remember one right now (which is exactly why one of them takes me.)

e. That said, I’ll talk about employment (that segue sucked ass, sorry…).

1. Listen, I haven’t been employed full time since October of 2015. Throwing modesty aside, I think it’s a testimony to my resourcefulness that I’ve soldiered on this long (not to mention my eternal gratitude to Jessica for putting me up AND putting up with me for ~4 years, and timely financial support from my folks).

Listen, I stumbled upon the online tutoring business two years ago in November. It has enabled me to keep pursuing my calling – teaching, while expanding my horizons and filling me with purpose; all while compensating me handsomely for what I see as my greatest attributes – patience and insight. What’s more, I get to do it from home. My writers mind says there’s “symbology” to be found in the fact that, when I’m out walking my dog, you’ll see me with a bright yellow (I tutor Chinese kids and the occasional adult, yellow is the preferred color of the outfit I work for) polo shirt and mismatched gym shorts.

You see, only the top third of me needs to look professional. My head, shoulders and chest are all the students can see.

Listen, if my understanding of world geography is correct and this whole “earth as a sphere” talk is true, China is on the other side of this shiny blue ball. This means that when it’s sunny here, it’s dark there and vice versa. So 9am to 5pm for them is actually 8pm to 4am for me.

That said (I’m sorry, I just can’t stop), Chinese kids can’t go to school and get English tutoring at the same time, so “peak time” starts at 6pm BJT (Beijing Time. Chinese students often go to school from 7:30 to after 5pm) or 5am Central Standard Time and runs until 9am CST/10pm BJT. I’m not going to go into too much detail at this time about my role on the interwebs peddling the English language like so much “athleisure” (ick! Who comes up with this stuff?) wear. Just know that the hours are odd, the students are driven and I really enjoy it.

f. Listen, there’s this really smart lady named Jill Bolte Taylor, she wrote a novel called “My Stroke of Insight” which is a must-read for anyone who has experienced a stroke or hemorrhage. I am looking at myself from a new perspective and will, no doubt, espouse some of her thoughts in the “blomelet” to come.

1. That said, she speaks at great length about the push and pull of left and right. I’ve addressed this notion as well, in my groundbreaking series called “Dialectical Menialisms” find them HERE, HERE, and HERE
2. You see, I take a broader stance on this issue of duality, asserting that everything is compelled or attracted by some external force.
3. Moreover (I broke the curse!) the duality detailed above can take many shapes/forms – good vs. bad/evil, God vs. Satan, right vs. wrong, fact vs. opinion, Sammy Hagar vs. Diamond Dave, etc.
4. Check it, we all, everyone, are faced with one choice – how to suffer. When faced with adversity, one can choose to suffer well, that is to take the “high road” or suffer badly, or succumb to hopelessness and turn to vices and addiction, etc.
5. Listen, that said, if you read my blog once or you’re a follower, if there’s one thing I want you to walk away with, especially from this post onwards is that you can’t choose the hand your dealt in life, you can choose what to do with the hand. Fold? Raise? Call? Maybe I’m the big blind and I must bet. Maybe you thought you were playing blackjack and you told the dealer to hit you.

ALL that said, I’m going to say that this entry is finally done. I still believe that it sucks ass, but I like it. If you read it all the way through, my sincerest and most profound thank you.

 

FIN

 

@JarrettLWilson