Recently in Personal Category

Yes, I went to a concert on Thursday night. I wanted to write about it immediately afterward, but I procrastinated. Oh well.

So yes, a concert. Let me just put a little context to the situation first, though. When I was in high school, a friend of my parents gave them a pretty nice record player, receiver, and a couple big speakers. They had no use for them, but i thought they were pretty cool and would go nicely in the "den" that they had carved out for me in our house. The only problem was that I didn't have any records to play. Well, I did have the single for The Super Bowl Shuffle (one of the greatest pieces of poetry ever put to music, by the way) and a Care Bears sing-a-long from back in the day (don't ask), but I wanted to believe that I was a little beyond that. So the next time my friends and I got together, we stopped at a second-hand music store and I decided to spend some time flipping through their stacks of old vinyl. One section caught my eye because of the bright beam of sunlight shining down on it. Also the disembodied voices of heralding angels.

Yes, there laid Van Halen I and Van Halen II. I had heard of the band because because a friend of mine was mildly obsessed. However, the only album I had previously been familiar with was Balance. Which, for anyone who is familiar, is very different from the first two albums that they put out. Anyhoo, I waffled for about ten minutes, unable to decide on whether I should pay 50 cents for one or the other. It took about that much time for me to realize that I could buy both because they were only 50 cents each. I was indeed as slow than as I am now.

So, back at home, I fired up the ol' record player and dropped LP #1 onto it. A couple snaps, crackles, and pops, and then in comes "Runnin' with the Devil" - followed by a blistering (and to me, impossibly-precise and complex) guitar solo by the name of "Eruption." For a young teenager who had been relatively sheltered in terms of exposure to music, hearing this seemingly superhuman act of guitarwork was a turning point, to say the least. Okay, I'm being dramatic, but keep in mind that this is the first time that I was truly affected by piece of rock music. So over the next few years, I gathered every single Van Halen record ever produced into my small music collection. However, by this time, David Lee Roth and been long gone (he bolted in 1984) and Sammy Hagar was on his way out. It appeared that I had lost my chance to ever see the band in concert after only just discovering them. Well, they did end up touring with Gary Cherone in the late 90s, but that was just weird and doesn't count.

Some years went by, and someone came up with the crazy idea of the two (significant) former lead singers of Van Halen touring together. Sammy and Dave hit Chicago and I jumped right on that. With bassist Michael Anthony joining Sammy, it almost felt right. But not quite - the magic guitar wasn't there.

[I need to stop here; brain is getting lazy and won't let me maintain my writing fluency. To be continued, probably tomorrow]

You know, I just realized that I actually did have a little bit of drama in my life recently, albeit covert. Apparently, someone tried to access my wireless phone account online the other day. I got this e-mail from AT&T saying that my account has been disabled for an hour because the wrong password was entered too many times, and this was curious, given that I hadn't even tried to access my account in several weeks. Usually I don't worry about this type of thing because typical logins tend to be some variation of my name. But this one is my phone number. I doubt anyone mistakenly entered my phone number into the login page thinking that it was theirs. Intriguing.

There has to be a way of finding out where this mysterious individual is located. I like to sleuth, and since I fancy myself rather good at it, this should add a dash of excitement to the casserole that is my life. Now I just need to find my pipe and sleuthing hat.

Yes, I have utterly neglected this web site of mine for entirely too long. By now, the few people who may have semi-regularly visited in the hopes of perusing new updates and musings have certainly lost hope in stumbling upon new content about and/or by yours truly. But if my readers have gone to the wayside, then I will update for myself, if only to ease the restless soul that stirs within me.

On a not-totally-unrelated note, I also have not seen enough drama in my personal life lately. And what better way to remedy that than by simulating it through overly-flowery language. If not drama, then melodrama, that's what I always say. Although perhaps some kind individual out there can add a dramatic tassel to the comments section of this entry. Controversy! I thirst for controversy! Life's been too cut-and-dry, too predictable. And while I've had some interesting changes and new beginnings, I think I can ultimately say that I need something more.

So now that I've written lots of words with very little substance, away I go, to venture off into the vast wasteland of academic journals and edited books.

Yesterday my dad and I had a belated father's day celebration, which came in the form of golfing 18 holes. We decided to trek up to Kenosha to enjoy the day, Wisconsin-style. On the 9th hole (although it was actually the 18th, since we started on the back 9), I hit a drive that caught the paved cart path and started bouncing toward the people in front of us. Whoops! Fortunately, no harm done. Then as we finished up and I start walking to the next hole, a man approaches me and says "How're you doing?" I smile politely and say, "Not too bad!" He then proceeds to inform me that my ball hit his son's [golf] bag. I apologize and explain that the cart path sent it on a wacky trajectory. Certainly nothing intentional. He repeats that my ball hit his son's bag and says "I don't want anything, I just thought I'd let you know how I feel." After going back and forth a couple times with this same exchange, he walks away.

I really wanted to ask him what exactly he would ask for if he changed his mind about not wanting anything. A sleeve of golf balls? Maybe a bag of tees? Would he sue me for the trauma done to his [adult] son? He also never actually specifically told me how he felt despite saying "I just thought I'd let you know how I feel" several times. Perhaps he literally meant that he just thought it.

Anyway, the reason why I'm writing about this little exchange is that I was bothered by something that was underlying. There's a certain point in every person's life where his or her parents need to stop being the parents of a child and start being the parents of an adult. When there's a conflict, a mature individual handles the conflict as an individual. When a parent involves him or herself as a proxy, it either reflects badly on the son or daughter (who comes off as weak), the parent (who comes off as overbearing and possibly irrational or ass-y), or both. Unfortunately in most cases, it'll be both.

So parents, the next time your kid as an issue to deal with, and said kid is an adult, just let it be. Maybe it'll be dealt with or maybe it'll be ignored and just blow over, but either way, you can rest easy knowing that you didn't make it worse. Contrary to the typical conclusions of an overly-defensive mind, something that is perceived as a minor "attack" by a passer-by, friend, acquaintance, etc. is most likely not an attack. But it's tough for a defensive person to remove their filter. Although if everyone just kept all of this in mind during their day-to-day interactions, I think that the world would probably be a slightly cheerier place.

I went to a Mandarin restaurant the other night named Venus (great General Tso's Chicken, by the way), and was told by my fortune cookie that "Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together as they do in you."

I had a couple problems with that, so here's a short open letter to the manufacturer of said fortune cookie:

First of all, that's not a fortune. Secondly, I appreciate the kind words, Mr. Cookie, but "beauty" is a word that I like to avoid in describing myself. Maybe "dashing good looks." Or better yet, have a bin of "male fortune cookies" and "female fortune cookies." And for God's sake, don't call them "fortune" cookies if you're just going to use them to spout empty compliments at me. I'm not won over that easily!

Thank you,
Timothy Dowling

Yes, I'm aware that I began the letter without stating a context. They don't need a context; they know what they did.

I was cleaning out some old stuff today and came across a photo of my high school golf team back from 1994-95. Yeah, I'm the dorky-looking kid in the middle of the back row behind the steering wheel.

This was my sophomore year, which happened to be my absolute best year. MVP and all that. I think a lot of it had to do with coaching. It was our first year with Coach Halpin, and since then, he's put together a really successful team...I think they got 2nd in state last season.

Accomplishments have so much to do with confidence and optimism. I really excelled for only that one season in high school, and not-coincidentally, the other three seasons were under different coaches. I think that I'm a little better at motivating myself nowadays, but it never hurts to acquaint yourself with people who will always express confidence in you. It's like shots espresso for the psyche.

I've held off writing about this topic for quite a while now. Many people are already aware of it, but some have unfortunately been left in the dark. It is the sad reality that Susan and I are no longer married. The divorce was final as of Tuesday.

We had been going through some serious issues concerning personal differences, family incompatibilities, and increasingly different individual life goals. Throughout my life, I had lived with the understanding that marriage is a one-time deal, and I believed that it is the responsibility of the couple to work through the inevitable difficulties of marriage even when those difficulties seem unscalable. What I was not prepared for, however, was a marriage in which these beliefs were not necessarily shared. Yes, the writing was on the wall well before the wedding, but I (the stubborn bastard that I am) chose to ignore it. This of course places a chunk of the blame for this situation squarely on my shoulders, although the size of the chunk is still up in the air.

My current state of ambivalence probably comes from sensing pieces of the general attitude from the "other side": hearing descriptions of divorce as being a relief...receiving an unnecessary angry and irrational phone call from an in-law...rushing the whole process at an uncomfortably speedy place. And here I am, more or less in stunned silence, feeling like I've just sat through some sort of emotional drive-by.

Of the 28 years that I've spent so far on this planet, five have been with Susan, and almost two of those five have been in matrimony. I'm guessing that the completion of this process is a reason for celebration for some; Susan had been miserable for a long time and now she can finally be free from the bonds. Perhaps her family is sitting around now, talking about me, joking and telling stories. At least that's my guess.

There's so much to talk about, so many emotions to release, so much confusion and bewilderment. The one remnant that will remain — at least for the time being — is the name, as my now ex-wife (what a dirty sounding term that is) will hold on to "Dowling." She feels that it works a little better than her maiden name, which I suppose is fair enough since everyone is free to call themselves what they want. But I have to admit that it feels a little strange.

The reality of the situation is that I have to go on with my life. For whatever reason, it will be more difficult for me than it was for her, and that's fine. Ultimately, I've learned many lessons about myself and what I need in a relationship. I've learned that a good relationship is an interactive relationship, and not just within the couple but within an entire ecological system. Every couple needs to work on their relationships with each other, with themselves, with their parents, friends, coworkers, neighbors, community, God (or other representation of spiritual beliefs, as applicable), and whoever else plays a part in their individual and collective lives. It's not enough to talk the talk (if I may cliche this up a bit), but it is so absolutely necessary to walk the walk. This should be easy; no one wants to look like a hypocrite.

In conclusion, I've learned, I've loved, I've laughed, I've cried, I've come back wounded but slightly stronger. It's a close call, but I think I can take away enough from my experiences to avoid regret. Just gotta keep on truckin'.

I'm feeling pain right now, a type of pain that I hadn't felt in a long time. Yes, it's true: I played basketball for the first time in multiple years yesterday. I think that an errant elbow may have fractured my skull, and my back starts to spasm every time I move beyond a sauntering pace, but I did okay considering the circumstances. Although I do not like this "I think I'm getting old" feeling. Hopefully a few more times on the court will take care of that problem; I really don't want to be one of those perpetual-back-ache guys popping Aleve pills three times a day.