Who am I?
Looks like I have crossed the Rubicon now. There is no turning back now...
That isn't true...I have tried the blogging thing three other times and never followed through with them. More on that in another post about writing obstacles. Will this one stick? I sure as hell hope so. I need something somewhat meaningful or purposeful to do with my spare time. Especially since I hate where I live, and my real job is not that engaging. I warned you there would be some bitching, moaning, and complaining on here. Or did I? That may have been in the original description which did not post because I had to refresh the page...the internet sucks at work...I also said that I would muse and ramble. Maybe I should go back and edit that...
This could be a little long.
Here I am, this is me, just JT. I won't tell you my real name until I actually do something of note, and it seems worthy of your attention, but if you read my profile, you will probably figure it out. I am not here to pander to you, nor do I really give a five-pound shit about your opinion of me. Just as I am sure you don't give a thirty-pound shit about my opinion of you. I am sure that you are fine people. Or aliens...or cyborgs...or lizard men from the hollow earth.
In case you have not noticed yet, I don't take anything seriously. At least on the surface.
I already told you in my last, and first post, why I am doing this blog, but now I would like to give you some context on who I am. Maybe you can identify with it or you can use it to write some tragic character into your next novel.
Please kill me off in some spectacular way.
Put me out of my literary misery.
Rural America. Western Pennsylvania. The Laurel Highlands. That is where I grew up. The old Flood City. Beautiful, forested Appalachian Mountains, crystal clear rocky streams, hiking, biking, rafting... unemployment, drug and alcohol abuse, and a dead steel industry.
Ah, the memories of home.
Most of my memories of home are pretty good and I reminisce on them frequently since I have lived in southern Louisiana for the last 5 years. My home life was always consistent and pretty good, even if we were poor working-class folks. Unlike so many others, my parents are still together despite their difficulties, and I consider myself fortunate for this fact. I think it has been a significant influence on my and who I have become. My mother trains horses and riders and my Dad is a heavy equipment operator and former farmer. We are very representative of the American working class. I am not sure why I am being formal here, since Mom and Dad are not usually referred to as mother and father.
Both of my folks are good hardworking...folks. They believe in being on time to work, giving your all for eight to twelve hours a day, and being grateful for having that much. They taught us (us being my sister and I) the value of hard work and that you have to start at the bottom and build yourself up.
I started with limited advantages in life. We were not rich (only in love...blah!), I didn't go to a fancy school, I wasn't naturally gifted in anything, and I was a fat kid. I was also a nerd, did not play sports, target of harassment for the cool kids (fuck them, half of them still live in their parents houses or have 12 kids and no money...or they are fat), shy as fuck, and socially isolated. Only recently did I realize that these things were part of the larger problem that is social anxiety and mild depression, or maybe they led to it. I was not a complete loss though.
Good parents and good family, even with their flaws, and good morals/values helped me survive my childhood and high school. I even managed to make a few really good friends and to experience some of what a normal high school kid gets to experience (parties and alcohol chief among them).
I kind of woke up to the world in my senior year. I started to realize that I don't need the approval of others and that I just needed to be me. I stopped censoring myself in order to appease others and I spoke my mind. I instantly became more popular. One preppy guy remarked: "Where has this kid been?". The answer, hiding under a shell built by social anxiety.
The shell began to crumble in my first year of undergraduate school. Like most I decided to attend my local branch campus for the University of Pittsburgh. Like most I decided to live away from home, even if it was a shitty apartment off campus. Like most I took out significant student loans to pay for everything. A mistake that I am still paying for today. DO NOT TAKE PRIVATE STUDENT LOANS YOU STUPID FUCKS!! Live at home. Work to pay for things. Don't drop out when the going gets tough or when you fuck up because you party too much. College is a privilege not a right. Treat it that way. A lot of people can't go.
End of rant.
I was a slacker in high school, and I thought I could get away with it in college too. My Aunt claims that I was just bored because they were not challenging me in class and to a degree that is true. I am also dyslexic and have ADD pretty bad. If I am not interested in something it takes a huge amount of willpower for me to attempt to care about it, let alone excel at it. This was the case for most of the classes I took that were not related to my major in Geology. My Geo classes never dropped below a high B and were mostly high A's. A fact of which I am proud.
The best experience of my first try at undergrad education was a test run field program in Wyoming where we excavated dinosaur fossils from the Jurassic Morrison formation. Seven weeks in the least populated state in the country and doing dinosaur research was my ideal life. I know, NERD ALERT. I play D&D too, so fuck off. Unfortunately, I knew that Dino Paleo didn't pay unless you were some uber genius and went to an Ivy League school. There is following your dreams and being practical, I was trying the practical route. I knew I would need money to pay those pesky loans.
What I am not proud of is quitting. In my third year I was lost interest in everything and was struggling in several classes. I failed, dropped, and quit Calculus I, three times. I was skipping courses or not putting any effort into the work. I had a creative nonfiction writing class once a week for a semester and I skipped it three or four times. Not a pathway to success. When my Geology program fell apart (all the main professors left and were replaced by others) I fell apart with it. I struggled on though my third year and then just stopped going. I was essentially fucked with a capital F.
I spent a few years in depressed, debt-ridden misery. I was always angry. I snapped at the smallest things and at anyone who loved me. I knew what failure I was, and I could not think of any way to stop being one. I was improving myself without really knowing it. I was learning from my failure. Life's lessons are often harsh, like being kicked in the nuts by a donkey. I continued to go to the gym and worked on my fitness as an outlet for the suck. I was fat but in my first year of college I lost 17 pounds in a month and then I was hooked. There were times when I would gain some of the weight back (stress eating or having a long-term girlfriend), but for the most part I stayed fit and made me better. It relieved stress and tension and made me more confident.
I worked. I worked for my uncle's landscaping business and with my dad's excavating company. I did not make much money and I lived at home, but I survived. This is the story for a lot of people living in my hometown area. Just surviving. But I didn't want to "just survive". I wanted to thrive. I had to do something drastic. Something to put me on the right path and to help with my disgusting debt. So, I joined the Army.
The Army set me straight. I should have done that right out of high school. The Army paid off my federal student loan debt. The Army got me an associate degree. The Army sustained me, even if it was a huge pain in the ass at times. Hurry up and wait is the truest fucking statement you will ever hear about the military. I was actually in the National Guard (weekend warrior!) because I knew that I wanted to finish my undergraduate degree. It was my goal, but it took me a while to get there.
First, I spent a year, a very hard year, working in a coal processing plant. That was real bitch. Night shift. Working from 3 in the afternoon to 8 in the morning (sometimes) and always for 50 plus hours a week. I was constantly covered in black dust, and I never got to see my friends or family because of the opposite schedules. I knew I could not live this life even though the pay was pretty good for the area. I did feel fortunate to have a decent paying job and worked hard to keep it, but when I saw an opportunity to go back to school, I took it.
The Army's education assistance program plus the GI Bill allowed me to go back to school at zero cost. I was extremely fortunate and was determined to succeed this time. I would not squander my good fortune. I attended a different school with a more stable program, and I excelled. Who would have known, but actually studying and doing assignments would lead to better understanding and good grades? I got an internship with the State Geologic Bureau and was more of a research assistant in the State Mapping project for geologic maps. I mean they gave me, the intern, my own intern for a weekend. Applying myself was a new experience for me and the results were awesome. I graduated in 2015 with at 3.83 GPA and had a job by early 2016. A real career job where my major was actually applicable. Well holy shit. I did it, even if I was a couple years late to the party. It seems like I am always running behind the crowd...
I now live near New Orleans and am at that same job, working as an Oceanographer. I also got my master's degree in Hydrography because work sponsored me and thought I needed it. The program was a technical, accelerated one year deal and it was a real bitch. I think I have literal PTSD from all of the work and studying. It was stressful and on top of that the corona shit hit the fan and my gym closed. My best stress outlet was gone, so I gained 15lbs. Quarantine 15, yay. I also got distracted from writing.
Now life is balancing out again. I am back at work full time, and I joined a new gym right next to my hovel of an apartment (I'm cheap, what can I say?). I also cut back on my stress induced sugar eating. No more Christmas Cookies left. No more lethargy and unexplained fatigue.
With fitness comes motivation. Go look at the million Instagram fitness influencers. Actually, don't do that. That's what they want you to do.
I got typing again and I mean typing on a typewriter. A little bit here and there adds up. Before you know it, you have an entire first draft ready for re-writes and editing. I do not work fast, I am easily distracted, and I procrastinate. I will write more on that later and how I deal with my mental shortcomings in order to actually write.
For now, this has been the world's worst abridged autobiography and incoherent life ramblings, which probably did not cover half of what I wanted to say. Maybe the message was that anyone from any background can write a book. I mean if a Kardashian can do it, who can't?
Remember, DON'T TAKE FUCKING PRIVATE STUDENT LOANS YOU DIPSHIT!!!
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