In this month’s scripted episode, I look back on some things that shaped me while trying to provide some lessons along the way.
Music credit: Karl Casey @ White Bat Audio
To read along:
Media Pod Smash Episode #122:
The Self-Indulgent Birthday Essay (Reflections)
By: Jeremy Jordan
Part 1 – Introduction
Thirty years, soon to be thirty one at the time of this writing. It’s almost hard to believe, though upon really looking back, is it really? I did pack a lot of shit in there so far. Not in a globetrotting, action-adventure, Indiana Jones kinda way, but for the average person, I think I’m doing good. Was any of it wasted? Certainly. You make it this far and it’s impossible not to waste any precious time on this planet. I wouldn’t be able to even lie to you anyhow. All you’d have to do is check my Steam data and see how many hours I’ve poured into games such as Civilization, countless RPGs, and more.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t consider video games a waste of time at all. Some of my best memories in life involve gaming. Now you’re going to think I’m doubling down in order to win back some hardcore gamers that I may have upset, but I’m serious. Like any veg out activity though, once a certain threshold is crossed, you just know you are starting to waste time.
I try not to look back on any of that wasted time with regret though. All that does is waste even more time, trapping you in a wacky loop. I forgive myself and move forward, knowing that it will eventually happen again, and it’ll be alright when it does. Other ways in which I probably wasted time through out my life was with substances, specifically alcohol.
Much like video games, I also have some great associations with booze. There are certain nights that I partied with some close friends of mine that I’m convinced will remain etched in my mind and heart for as long as I continue this journey. Would those memories be just as good without the alcohol? Probably, but who knows. Maybe all the ingredients of that evening had to come together perfectly, and in that specific sequence or it wouldn’t have been an etch into the mind and heart kinda memory, instead just another memory for the mental filing cabinet. I’m starting to do that thing again where I ask these unanswerable questions which in turn is starting to ironically waste time.
What I’m really trying to do here, is reflect and talk about how I got to the point that I’m at now while maybe instilling some helpful lessons along the way. The only research that was required for writing this piece, was to simply sit back and ponder. Very recently, I had that wish granted As of right now, I’m thankfully feeling much better, but the past week was a week of isolation, more streaming content than you can shake a stick at, and lots of hot beverages, as I battled through the nasty illness.
A couple of those evenings were really boring. I thought back to the topic of time wasting as I sprawled out in my bed watching another dumb Karen compilation video. What could be gleaned from this moment so that it didn’t have to be a complete waste of time. Well, let’s see. This is all about reflecting and Karens are a great example of someone who could use a ton of it. Though, that’s easy for me to say. What if the person flipping shit in that video is having the worst day of her life and just needs some compassion? I guess that still doesn’t justify flipping shit, I mean, I have had some truly awful days and still wouldn’t do that. Here I go asking unanswerable questions again. Point is, they should probably look inward and reflect, but I’ll continue to reflect to try and be a little less critical of people. Hell, let’s all reflect and keep it going; the well of information that can be obtained is endless. Info that’s obtained can contribute to your growth, and make this the best journey possible.
Man, this has gotta be one of the oddest birthday celebrations I’ve ever had. Locked away in a house, writing an essay as a Nickelodeon version simulcast of one of the NFL Wildcard games plays in the background. Every once in a while I’ll look up and see some fake slime overlays or a picture of Spongebob Squarepants in the uprights. Is this just a fever dream that I’m experiencing from the illness? This celebration is a far cry from the ones in early childhood. Chuck and his band of awkwardly moving misfits, tons of pizza, and those ball pits. My God. I’m convinced that part of the reason I ever stood a chance against this most recent sickness and any sickness for the matter, is from building my immunity from diving in those nasty ball pits as a child. Thinking of those birthday celebrations in those dimly lit child casinos, and other general childhood memories, makes me quite happy. It’s safe to say that things back then were a bit different.
Part 2 – Childhood
It all started in a dark place…that’s at least what they told me. My eyes were closed and I was floating around like a little ball of calm meditated energy just waiting to explode into this world. Alright, I guess I don’t have to start that far back. In all reality, I should probably start with the place that was responsible in shaping some of the most important early childhood things; Catholic school.
My mother thought it would be in our best interest to attend a Catholic school. It was assumed that the education was better, and the instilled morality was a nice bonus. My family was religious, but never to an insane point. It was never shoved down anybody’s throat and no extreme rules were ever put upon anybody. My folks just believed; my mom especially. She didn’t just talk the talk either, she was a legit good person. If that place is really up there, she would not have had to have waited in any lines at the gates. God would’ve thrown a fast pass her way for sure.
The years of Catholic school were very unique. I only attended until the end of 2nd grade, but it seemed so much longer. I was fortunate enough to have gone during an era when there was no concern about getting smacked with a ruler. Those days were long gone; guess they must’ve figured making kids knuckles bleed for minor infractions maybe wasn’t the best approach. However, what did remain from the past, was the small class sizes, strict rules, and of course, the religion.
Every Friday we were required to attend church. My family also went to church every Sunday. That meant a double dose of church every single week. It was brutal. On the days that we attended in school, it was very close to a regular church service. The major difference was that we were forced to do the readings. There was a rotation of who would have to read for that week and it continued like that every year. I’m pretty sure these moments are the dark origin story for my social anxiety.
The classes were much smaller than the average public school class, and things were much more hands on. Some rules were a bit bizarre to me. For instance, shirts had to be tucked in at all times. Why? Like, who the fuck cares? At least we didn’t have to wear uniforms. It’s not like it was all complaints though.
The class sizes made it feel like we were a more tight-knit group. There really seemed to be a comradery among us most if not everybody. Plus, the teachers and the classes were really cool. Gym class was by far the best example of this. The teacher clearly had a passion for what he was doing and all of the games and units were killer. There were made-up games that not only taught us the fundamentals for the particular sport that was being covered, but they were fun as hell. At times there was a real Nick Guts vibe. If even an nonathletic kid like me was having a good time, it has to tell you something. Another thing that made Gym class so great was that it always seemed to fall really close to recess, and if you thought Gym was great, just wait.
Out in the playground, there were three main areas. The newest, a small two story wooden structure with a slide. The oldest, a large wooden play structure with some swings. It was dope. It became our main base of operations and was dangerous as hell. The last section was a bunch of various metal structures for gymnastic type activity and what-not. They really seemed to tower over everyone back then, but now I’m sure are very small. It’s crazy to think that more people didn’t get hurt on some of that shit back then, but it was really no concern at the time. Teachers were just like, “have at it kids, go nuts”, and it was fucking awesome. We had a blast out there and I formed some great bonds with people. Bonds that still exist to this very day.
In the summer after 2nd grade, there was a buzz among some of us kids and lots of adults. A brand new elementary school had just been built. Third through fifth grade. What interesting timing. Who among us would stay and who would move on? I had a lot of anxiety prior to making my transition to public school. I’m not sure why I even wanted to go in the first place. I was enjoying my time at Catholic school and I had great friends, but maybe a part of me wanted to feel like a “normal” kid. Through out that summer I discussed it with my mom and she talked to other parents. Come September, I would no longer be a St. Peters kid. No, I’d be an East Troy Edumacation kid. The one advantage I had, was that my best friend Mitch was already a public school kid. He was my in. There were also a handful of other kids from Catholic school who made the transition as well.
Even with these things though, it was not an easy beginning. I was quickly familiarized with the world of bullies and their empty headed actions. One event that is burned in my mind, is sitting at a lunch table, having my lunch box tossed around the table during a game of “keep away”. I still remember the leader of that whole operation too. He was a total jerk to many people in that era. I sincerely hope he’s grown since then, but I will never attempt to reach out and find out for myself. I don’t know what that says about me, but I don’t care.
There were some moments in first week of public school, I would think about the decision to make the transition and cry. I thought I had made a horrible mistake. I missed my old friends and routine. Some of these new public school things seemed so alien to me. I’m sure I brought it up to my mom a few times, and I’m sure her response was always the same. I don’t recall exactly, but I imagine something like, “Just give it a little bit of time, you’ll be alright”, and that would’ve been absolutely true.
After a little more time, there was a turning point for me. There’s a moment that is etched in my head of sitting on a sidewalk with a newly acquired friend. The sun kept going behind the clouds, changing the lighting on the playground. “The reason this is happening”, my friend claimed, “is because I’m a warlock”. Ha, this guy’s alright, I remember thinking. You’d think that we’d still be friends to this day, but I honestly haven’t spoken to that guy in years. It was more about the moment itself. From that moment forward, everything was fine. I made more friends, I got used to public school, and eventually I would even be reunited with my old Catholic school friends. The end of this chapter, was a very happy one.
Seeing as how this is one of the motivational essays, I feel as though there has to be some kind of lesson to wrap the section up. So what can be gleaned from this experience? I’d say it’s that human beings have an amazing ability to adapt and thrive. It doesn’t take an extraordinary amount of time either. When I first made my transition to public school, cheesy as it sounds, I didn’t think I’d ever get used to my new surroundings. Through an ability to adapt and a determination to not give up, I made it through, and guess what? No matter the situation or circumstance, you can too.
By the time my school career was coming to a close, things were going quite swell. I’ve written and spoken many times about this. Great friends, good times all around, what more could I want? What I would come to realize though, is that some good things could only last so long. I would eventually be spit out by school into the real world where I’d go from being an innocent Catholic boy, to a directionless drunken man.
Section 3 – A Directionless Drunken Man
As previously mentioned, by the end of high school and into college, things were going quite well. I had good friends and there were no shortage of great partying opportunities. Every weekend was a brand new adventure. I even had a lot of ambitions and dreams; I was going to be a filmmaker, or some other creative type of thing. I had felt from an early age that this was definitely what I was supposed to do. The only problem was, I had no plan to speak of. I went as far as to sign up for college and tell people I was majoring in film whenever asked about my major. I figured that the first two years would be dedicated to general education anyways, thus giving me a window of time to come up with something more concrete in terms of future endeavors. Plus, part of me didn’t want to think that there would have to be any major plan in place, or even back-up plans for that matter. I had seen one too many Hollywood underdog stories and wanted so badly to believe that just wanting it really, really badly and having a heart of gold was enough. Spoilers: it wasn’t.
Throughout this rudderless era, I worked a lot of odd and shitty jobs. One year, I worked for the US Government doing the Census. I was called an Enumerator. It was my job to canvas neighborhoods and plot points on a map, ensuring that those points still exist, and the information from the past remains correct. Most of the time, that was it. Go to a house, plot a point, next house. Rinse and repeat. For some reason, they had us ring the doorbells and give a small speech, informing people why we were there and what we were doing. We also were supposed to ask if there were any places in the house in which people could possibly be living. Right, as if they are going to just willingly give that information up. Some people were pretty chill, most weren’t. Once, a lady thought that I was just trying to get information from her so that I could come back later and rob her. Keep in mind, I had an official ID badge and a canvas bag that said US Government on it. Plus, if I was going to rob her, wouldn’t I just do it? Why the song and dance? I would’ve been a lot more stealthy than that.
The job required an entire week of classroom training that could’ve probably been condensed into a day or two. Once it was over, and we were on our own, things improved. The pay was decent, we got to stick close to home, and we could set our own hours. Overall, it was a pretty unique experience. They say that one of the ways to find out what you would like to do in life, is to figure out what you’ve done and know you don’t like. I knew by the end of my Census days that one thing I definitely didn’t want to do in the future, was go door to door and have strangers scream at me. That was for certain.
Near the end of my short stint in college, I decided I was going to try and make a full length feature film. My heart was in the right place, but I was rather naive and delusional. I couldn’t see far enough down the rabbit hole to realize how much work it would take, but looking back, I’m glad I tried.
The first thing that I did was, of course, write a script. It took a majority of a spring and summer to complete if I recall correctly, and by the standards I had set for myself in those days, I was quite happy with how it had turned out. The movie was called Small Town Zombie Folk, a coming of age movie with zombies because why not? I used the momentum of completing the script to keep things rolling forward quickly. With me throughout the process, was a good buddy of mine at the time who happened to also have a big interest in film. We meshed really well together creatively and at times, it seemed like we were unstoppable and really could pull this thing off.
The first major error I made, was the purchase of an expensive camera. When starting out, I did little to no research and equated expensive with good. If I buy this large camera, it’ll look great and surly people will know that I’m serious. I really try not to have regrets, but I often think back to this moment and wish it had gone down differently. I would love to get into a time machine and tell that version of me not to be so stupid. For the money I dropped, I could’ve bought a couple decent DSLRs and all the extra equipment needed to make a good looking film. If I’ve learned anything from cheesy science fiction movies though, it’s that the past can and should not be fucked with. It’s important to learn from and move forward. I still have that camera. I think I may hold onto it forever, just as a reminder to slow down and breath every once in a while.
Once the camera was purchased and we screwed around with it a little bit, progress on the movie continued. For a while, things actually seemed to be moving along quite smoothly. We held two days of auditions in the studio of the university, and there was a nice turnout. The movie had it’s young and enthusiastic cast, it had it’s directors, and it had it’s unnecessarily expensive gear. We were ready to shoot.
The first few days of filming ended up going surprisingly well also. We began with some easy things, like the establishing shots; outsides of buildings and houses. Then we got the nerve up to ask a local gas station if we could use their exterior for a scene. To our surprise, we were given the green light and within a few days, we had our first major scene shot. There was a feeling in the air that maybe, just maybe, we could actually pull this thing off.
Things began taking a turn once we were a few weeks in. We stopped hearing from some of the main cast members, and truth be told, we were not very good at keeping in communication with them. There were no plans concocted for what we’d be shooting during the upcoming weekends, until a day or two before. Some weeks just became a wash, and we’d go play mini golf and drink beers. The fantasy was starting to implode on itself and turn into something much different. The scope of this project became more real, and eventually death came to the dream of making a full length feature and “finally getting outta this place, man!”. When the dust settled, I still managed to hang on to those creative dreams, but that overly ambitious side of me started to disappear.
After two and a half years, I would decide that I no longer wanted to attend college. I was going to take a “break” for a bit, but I would return with a better idea of what I wanted to do. Right, that’s what they all say. I didn’t go back. Instead, I started working full time at a retail store. This big box giant would be the start of a multi year whirlwind of substance abuse, misery, anxiety, and fear. Fear that I had wasted my one shot and was doomed to a hellish existence of dumb questions and stocking shelves.
I know that this sounds terribly bleak, but don’t worry. It’s not the end, end, just the end of another chapter in my life. Don’t believe me, go back and read Grief, Sobriety, and Hope again. From the ashes of what remained after years of screwing around and chasing those “good times” from the past, I would rise up and get my shit together. I was able to get my creative spark back, exercise some demons, and experience joys like that little kid had done on the playground all those years ago.
So what’s the lesson in this section. Well, it’s the best lesson of all. Something we’re taught early on and something that my parents always reminded me, but something that can be easily forgotten. It’s to never, ever, give up. This journey is long but quick (if that makes sense), and it will throw so much bullshit your way. You owe it to yourself to keep on going no matter what. There’s a powerful force within all of us that allows us to overcome the obstacles, even when you’re working a job you hate, sitting in a bar with your dreams far off in the distance, and the odds seem against you.
Section 4 – The Wrap Up
The inspiring person of the month this time is actually two people. Two brothers, James and Matthew Covington aged 10 and 9. Last summer, they participated in something called the 50 Yard Challenge. Something that was started by a bonus monthly inspiring person, Rodney Smith Jr, in order to provide free lawn care service to elderly people and others in need. With the help of their mother, they spent the entire summer helping people around the community and really made a difference. They were even recognized for their efforts, by being provided with free lawn care equipment through Smith Jr’s organization. A small act of good can cause ripples and make a big difference in other people’s lives. These kids a great example of how one can shine a light during often dark times.
The homework last week was related to the concept of surviving the long dark. If you’re like me, and live in the Midwest, that homework is far from over. We’re getting closer, but still have some time to keep holding on. So, keep holding on tight. You’ve got this. This month was of course, all about reflecting. All I can say is, if you haven’t in a while, look back and try to gain some insight. There’s some useful knowledge in there.
I don’t know what the future holds, but these past thirty years have been rich in experience and growth. Sometimes I still feel lost, but never scared. I have hope, and things look brighter than they ever have before. I have dreams and ambitions, and now, I always do my research before making any large purchases. Bring on the next thirty-plus. I’m ready. Media Pod Smash off!
-Jeremy
Media Pod Smash! 