All the Time in the World

In my previous post, I expressed a desire to turn Kansas City reflection/nostalgia into a distraction that works for me, rather than against me. Well, at first, it worked via a carefully tailored iTunes playlist, emphasizing the music I was listening to most prominently during those times. Tonight is a Bear McCreary Battlestar Galactica marathon. 

But now, as I’m supposed to be packing for our cabin getaway, I am instead rereading all my old blog posts from the Kansas City chapter of my life. Coincidentally—and ironically or appropriately, however you may look at it—prior to this, I had been a bit hung up on Bowling Green-related bitterness and frustration. (Bowling Green, Ohio is where I lived just prior to Kansas City, Missouri). It would seem as though my BG ruminations had naturally led to a revisiting of the period of my life spent in the Fountain City (September ’06 to April ’08). And before all that, I was reminiscing about my undergraduate years at Truman State University. If all of this hadn’t taken over a week of nagging at my brain, I might be inclined to say that my life had flashed before my eyes.

I digress. (I am known to do that.)

Herr Vogler is finally setting sail and departing the Fountain City for greener pastures, which is almost impossible to conceive for me. For so long, he had been a fixture of that city.

On Facebook, I recently discovered Jim Bailey, who was the head pastor of Metro Christian Fellowship when I was living in Kansas City. Apparently, at some point he moved back to California. Something about that makes me profoundly sad, though I’m sure I should be happy for him. I need to catch up with him.

In retrospect, I wish I had blogged more. It could have clarified a few murky chronology issues in my memory. Although I’ve always had an acute memory for details and sentiments, I was never good at keeping the chronology straight. Tonight, I’ve learned a lesson: in another seven years, I will have wished the same about Austin life. Therefore, I shall make it a point to blog more often—for you, and for me.

I don’t know why, but for the past three days I’ve been mulling over the time I’d spend in Kansas City, trying to come to terms with what little control I seem to have over my life.

At the time, I was struggling with a dead-end job and an abysmal lack of options, right out of grad school. The existentialism, the frustration of unattainable dreams, all of that served as both the backdrop and the impetus for me trying to make something of myself, of my time, while I was there. My job sucked hard, but my free time was mine, and it was mine to build things with. It was the best and worst of times. The dichotomy still resonates with me. The 2007 economic shitstorm still feels like a dagger through my heart. I lacked direction, but I thought I had all the time in the world to find that direction.

I was still decompressing from the horrible experience I had in Bowling Green, Ohio. I was building a community. I had a church and Lifegroup. I was training with the South KC Shotokan dojo three times a week. I was meeting Dean for further martial arts practice, as well as video gaming and all-around adventuring through life. I was seeking new venues for musical performances. I was reading, I was writing—I was exploring. I had all the time in the world.

And then I had to leave.

Kansas City, to me, will always embody two things: the open frontier of the spirit of a twenty-something bachelor, and the doomed, uphill battle of a man who didn’t belong.

I can’t put into words what I’m trying to say, but I don’t have to; this blog is more of a placeholder for myself… and a declaration of intent.

I intend to visit Kansas City before the year is out. Herr Vogler will be gone, yes, but I can still drink Scotch with the “Reverend” Dean Yzon. I want to time my visit so I can attend at least two—hold my breath, even three—training sessions with my former Sensei Banks. And I want to take a whole day to just drive around, taking pictures of every place I used to know, revisiting old stomping grounds. Memory Lane.

Above all, I need to return to Kansas City as a high roller, not as the underdog I was when I was laid off and had to move in with my brother, for free rent, on the other side of the state, holding onto the resolve to return to KC soon and get back on my own two feet—a resolution that proved to be a self-deception. I never moved back there, and everything that I had started to build had eventually eroded and crumbled.

I was rereading my earliest posts from when I first moved there. There was actually a time when I sincerely thought I might move to Massachusetts and work with my old friend from grad school, Scott Blanchard. Or possibly Virginia. And weaved throughout my old blog posts from that time was a common thread: the assumption that I was going to visit Bowling Green, Ohio, “soon,” and get some resolution there. Well, I have a huuuuuuge fucking bone to pick with Bowling Green, and that will be the subject of a future (soon) blog post. (Maelstrom Part VI, anyone?).

We were underdogs, but we were still winners. We were young, and we were strong. We had style, we had panache, we had brio. We had hope and grand intentions.

But something has been lost. Something’s missing. All the Sean Hannitys of the world lie to us about pompous bullshit about how we just need to work harder and stop whining. There’s more to life than a Goddamn paycheck.

There was one day, among my darkest of days, when I was chauffer for the guy in OP… I had taken on a “free rent” situation in exchange for part-time help for the home-owner: a quadriplegic lawyer who was, by all rights, pretty damn cool for a guy in his forties who couldn’t use his limbs. But one day, I dropped him off at Kona Grill at the Country Club Plaza, and had to hover around the vicinity for a couple hours, waiting to be called for pickup. By that time, I was unemployed and had little self-confidence left. I told myself that I would one day return to Kona Grill at the Country Club Plaza as a patron, not as a whimpering peon chauffer.

And I fucking will. Except that I’ve seen the menu at Kona, and don’t want to waste my money on their shit. Adjust that years-old personal resolution to say that I will return to Kansas City as a winner, not as an underdog.

I remember staying at Dean’s house. We marathon-played Halo 3 (it was a new release at the time) and gave his new sparring equipment a breaking-in as we duked it out in his backyard. And we showered and prepared to go out. And there was Scotch.

Well, I have a bottle of Scotch right here. Unopened. It was actually an engagement present from my siblings, but my wife doesn’t drink, so I’m saving it for when I visit my old friend Dean in Kansas City. And I will train with Eric Banks again. And it will be glorious.

Yes, there was a return visit that was awesome. It was December 2009. I had just started a long-distance relationship that would ultimately lead to marriage. My friend and I were well-dressed, well-exercised, well-Scotch-ified, and playing Modern Warfare 2. That was a good time. But I was still the underdog.

Now, it is 2014. And I am Superman.

So, yeah. Kansas City and I have some unresolved issues. I am rambling, but that’s okay. This post was for me, not you.