2022 Starts with a Bang and a Crash

 I am in the second day of 2022 as I write this and I am not optimistic about the direction the year has taken thus far. I am pretty careful to not actually be the cynical asshole that I played at being on the Printed Panel Podcast. That character rang super true because it is an aspect of my personality. I play misanthropic curmudgeon excessively well, but I do not enjoy being that guy and work hard to keep the doomsaying to a minimum. 

Let's just take this year right from the start. It isn't quite 36 hours old as I am writing this so it shouldn't be too terrible a story to tell.  I am going to start late the night before. Set the scene in your mind. It is a dark, muggy east Tennessee night. The winds are howling outside my office window and fireworks and shots from various guns around the area are peppering the night with intermittent sharp reports. From my desk I can see out the window, but none of the flares from the pyrotechnics are showing across the cloudy sky that also hides the stars from view. 

I am happily crunching numbers alone in my office. My iTunes is quietly shuffling. Everyone else in the house is asleep. Even the animals are still and quiet due to the noise outside. I have spent the last hour or so finalizing my 2021 finances. All of the transactions I made for the year and safely stored in Excel. They are sorted by month, source, and summarized in an annual view. 

I have let the spreadsheet grow out of control during 2021. I have too many columns and categories for expenses. I have come to enjoy the process of charting my finances to the point that I have broken things down too much. I realized this in July, but the work of cleaning things up is overwhelming. For that reason I have been looking forward to the New Year for months. Fresh starts happen in more ways than one. 

It has taken me nearly another hour of work to create my 2022 spreadsheet. I have simplified the categories from over 50 down to 24. Three of these are intentionally redundant, but I still want a break down of what I am spending on video games, comic books, and other hobbies. Given I dropped $25,000 between the three in 2021, I know I have to make smart changes and keeping the measurement in place is part of the course correction. 

A moment of reflection makes me a liar in all of my last blog post. I do want to make New Year's Resolutions. Damn Atomic Habits and my "new" way of thinking. There is no reason I cannot continue to develop fantastic working systems and have some goals to go with them. I regret not sharing the resolution creation process with my peers at work. I regret not having more time to think them through. It is 5 minutes until midnight and suddenly I want to be resolved to a few things. Damn math making me reflect on things more. 

I pull up my OneNote. I have been looking forward to a fresh start there as well. I am going to leave behind several years with of stuff by labeling my old Notebook (which was just David's Notebook) as 2021. I have already created 2022. I already have a Calendar section with January to April mapped out. I won't start using it officially until the 3rd, but I am excited about this blank canvas. 

I quickly create a section called Journal in the 2022 Notebook. Journaling is important. I try to do it daily even if it is just a few lines. It helps me not feel overwhelmed. I create a page called Resolutions and I start typing in ideas. Here is what ends up on the page: 

• Track every book I read, movie I watch, game I complete, trail I hike, and exercise I complete. 
• Spend less than 10% of the money I earn on hobbies. 
• Draw something every day of 2022. 
• Do not touch my savings. End the year with a minimum of $3,120 is savings from this year's earnings. 
• Post a new blog every Monday and Thursday of 2022. 

I finish this list in about three minutes. I edit just a little bit. I am satisfied with the list. It feels a bit lengthy and maybe the first one is unnecessarily detailed, but for a few minutes work it feels productive and good. I kept weight loss and diet off the list. I feel like it is a good way to kick off 2022. 

Midnight comes. I tell my computer Happy New Year. I make some cosmetic changes to my spreadsheet. I debate getting out a blank page and drawing something. I decide instead I will watch another episode of the Witcher and then get some sleep.  2022 has arrived. It seems polite and well mannered enough even though I am still recovering from this chest congestion. I am cautiously optimistic. I finish Season 1 of the Witcher with mixed emotions happy for Ciri and super sad for Yennefer and Triss. I turn off the TV wondering if Henry Cavill could play Superman and Batman. 

I don't sleep enough. I am up before everyone else on the 1st. I weigh myself. I am happy I haven't gained weight over the two weeks of limited exercise. I subject myself to a bowl of Lucky Charms because yogurt isn't appealing to me at the moment and I do not feel like making sausage and eggs. I regret this in a few spoonfuls. 

I putter around until my stomach quells. I consider drawing, but I don't feel awake enough for creativity. I mourn Bettie White with an episode of the Golden Girls instead. I do expect it to be the most streamed show on the internet for a while. I wonder if her estate will see increased residuals over the next year. 

For the first time in a couple of weeks I feel like exercising. Maybe I want the exertion to cheer me up as it normally does. You have to appreciate those endorphins. I position my bike, boot up Castle Crashers and start pedaling. Half way through the routine I turn the game off and opt for another episode of the Witcher. I am enjoying the lore enough to believe it is time to play the games. I put in 7 miles and dismount. 

I am super happy to find the Witcher games for sale on Steam. I picked up the trilogy for about $12. I figure there is a chance I will try the first one during my wait on Final Fantasy VI Pixel Remaster which drops in February. I mentally start counting through my plans after FFVIPR. I will play VII (the original PC version), VIII (remastered), IX, X, X-2, XII Zodiac Age, XIII, XIII-2, Lightning Returns FFXIII, XV and the add on content, and hopefully round out my Final Fantasy replay set with FFVII Remake Intergrade and Stranger of Paradise: Final Fantasy Origin for PC. 

This is months of gameplay for me. Maybe more. I have been putting off finishing FFVPR even though I have caught my redo playthrough up to the original run and have mastered the necessary jobs, got all the summons, have stacks off all the items I need, and am strong enough to get through the basic part of the N-Zone. I still think this stands for Negative Zone and am suspicous that Cid is an analog for Reed Richards and ExDeath is standing in for Doctor Doom. 

I realize I am tired and head in just before lunch time for a nap. I have been napping a lot between rounds of cold medicine. It is helping. I am starting to recover. 

I wake up in the afternoon and have energy enough to clean out the refrigerator of Christmas leftovers. I nibble at leftovers from more recent meals and lament wasting food. I am hopeful that the local outdoor wildlife will eat well for a day or two. I spend some time with the kid. I spend some time reorganizing my office. I find myself wanting a drafting table to draw at. I also find myself wanting to move my bedroom and my office around. I start and am still contemplating switching the two rooms. It feels like I need less room to sleep than I do to be creative. 

I run out of energy again. I stay up until time for another dose of medicine. I take another nap. When I wake up I am overheated and congested. It takes me a few minutes to shake it and come fully awake. 

I keep working on cleaning, organizing and moving things around. This is one of my favorite things. Finding really efficient ways to live and work is just relaxing to me. I clean and organize my hand tools and move the top of my rolling tool chest. I have enough art supplies and materials that I need the organization. This takes up more counter space than I would like, but it feels clean, organized, and a step in the right direction. I wonder if my entire tool chest will eventually be used for hobbies and I move into a third chest for my actual tools. The second one is completely full of guns, knives, and ammo. I wonder if I can find a way to mount my crossbow on one of them as it needs a home where I can easily store it between uses. 

I had grabbed a sheet of paper and was about to settle into drawing a bit when I realized I have a missed call. I see it is Dad and call back. He doesn't often call me when he is out on one of his motorcycle rides. There is no answer. I notice he left a voicemail. I listen. My heart drops. 

Dad has had a motorcycle wreck somewhere near Chattanooga. I am frightened and a bit confused since the last update he had texted was his plan to get a motel near Nashville. I listen to the message twice trying to measure how hurt he is. His last statement on the message is his plan to call Taila. 

I text everyone in the family quickly. I start with Taila. I am hoping her did get her on the phone and she has more details. His message is vague and he sounds spacy. His only disclosure is the hospital "they" are taking him to and that he, "isn't broken." I likely scare Taila more because she has not heard from him. 

I breathe a moment while texting with Whitneigh and Taila. I hit google and find Erlanger hospital's particulars on google. I start weighing possibilities as I call them to confirm. Dad is there. They do not have a status. They tell me to call back in a half hour or so. 

Taila and I make mountains out of mole hills for 20 minutes or so while talking on the phone. We play through the possibilities. I am sure Dad, assuming he is alright, will want to rescue his bike as quickly as possible. I am not interested in dragging our trailer out of the side yard, which is nearly flooding from the torrential rain, to get the bike. I also decide to wait and find out if he is ok before I make any moves. I realize I could be risking a chance to say goodbye if he is holding on by a string. 

I pray a bit. I pray a lot. I call Whitneigh to calm her down. She wants to help. There is nothing for anyone to do until we know more. I curse Dad and insult his intelligence for riding in floods and tornado level winds. It isn't the smartest thing to do on a motorcycle, but this is more about venting my own panic than any real upset at him. Emotionally compromising moments make me mean. 

The doctor calls. I am holding my breath until he says he has good news. Dad is miraculously unhurt. Like almost completely unscathed from a motorcycle wreck at speed on the interstate. The word miracle is appropriate. The doctor praises Dad for wearing a full kit of safety gear. I feel guilt for using the words,"moron," and "dumbass," so frequently. I am thankful and say so in prayer. This is important. It breaks the paralysis of not knowing next steps. 

I shower. I pack way more than I could possibly need into my backpack. I fuel up the van. I pick up Taila. We go to Erlanger Hospital in Chattanooga. The ride is pleasant. The conversation is good. My nerves settle. We slip and slide a few different places from the flooding, but we arrive safely.

Dad is wearing paper scrubs and his Marlin jacket. They cut off everything else that he was wearing. He is fine if sore. He doesn't remember the wreck. We dip through McDonalds for an awful meal. We eat and talk. Dad and I get excited that his motorcycle does have a camera system. We want that footage back along with the bike. We all want to know exactly what the hell happened.  I am betting on flooding and high winds knocking him over. I expect that he slid down wet pavement which actually cushioned and lubricated his impact and the friction of the asphalt. I believe he stopped in the grass beside the road. This is the movie in my head. Reality probably does not match. 

We drop Taila off at her place and head home. We are in at a quarter of five in the morning. Getting home sets off the last release of tension I did not realize I was holding. I get Dad settled with some pain reliever. I go back into my office. I journal briefly. I sketch a quick picture. Eventually I sleep. 

I do not sleep long. I am back up by 9. I draw another picture. This one gets ink and color.  Is that ink and colored ink? I outline in purple Copic fineliner because I just got it in my most recent Sketchbox and because I like purple. I have an image in my head of donkeys with a unicorn horn and a rainbow mane that I want to draw but cannot yet. 

I have breakfast. I write this blog post. I am torn now between a nap and the exercise bike. Mostly I am looking very suspiciously at 2022. The last year that started with a family member in a wreck was 2018. That year was the entry into 18 months of hell including the death of my Mom. Maybe some rest will shift my perspective, but right now I am braced for impact. Time is like a river and history repeats. God, please don't make this year like any of the last.... eight or nine. I can handle what comes, but I am tired. I do not want 2022 to be any version of  me saying," Not again."