Tornado Joe

This summer has been a little crazy. Good crazy.

Found this googling "Tornado Party" and found the book
I will soon purchase titled "Dad's Are the Original Hipsters."
http://www.powells.com/biblio?isbn=978-1452108858
http://dadsaretheoriginalhipster.tumblr.com/post/23926506997

A door opened on my birthday this year to move out of my little apartment and stop hibernating. I'd spent a year hiding from the world, trying to convince myself I wasn't a monster and failing. And when my current housemate offered the keys out of my personal prison, I made a plan and escaped.

Over the last two months, I've moved myself from my old apartment to a new house with a great housemate, a lot of space, outstanding stairway acoustics, an oven-like upstairs bedroom,  and a chance to safely connect with more people and ease myself out of hibernation.

I completed the move with a good friend, but I schlepped most of the boxes by myself on some of the hottest days of one of Portland Oregon's warmer summers on record. I felt slightly lonely, but again, this was me slowly waking from hibernation to seek contact with humans. I often see myself as a robot and must push my programming to build those important connections that keep the spirit afloat.

As soon as I moved I unpacked and tried to settle myself. I started pitching a superhero comic to the comics publishing company I work for, I wrote and revised and revised and revised said comic, I prepped my brain for the biggest week long comic convention of the year within the comics industry, I charged my extrovert battery for an alumni return to the publishing program I attended in 2008 to share often hard won enthusiasm for the coming grueling job search, and I tried to make my new abode a solid stepping stone for a college acquaintance I wished to impress.

I didn't have a lot of time to think. As it turns out this was a good thing for me. I often over analyze and overwhelm myself with the weight of possibility that stacks upon making the right decision for any choice in my life. Any choice. I can stutter and stop, procrastinate and postpone, giving voice to self-doubt and a sense that perhaps this world is too big for me, that it moves too fast.

When this part of my brain is shut off however, I simply live in the moment. With this life-editor toggled down I create, I build, I connect and work to achieve goals I've long held without thinking twice about the consequences. No feedback, no lessons to learn, just me asking myself what I want and how to get it.

I want more of this.

Sometimes I wish I were a character in my head called Tornado Joe. A creature that seeks to pursue his passions with wanton abandon; a storm that leaves a wake of destruction through the projects and people he's known; a fighter that punches that shadow of doubt in the face and leaves it bleeding on the curb as it parties in the club. But the chain of control not only holds me, but is something I cling to to make sense of the world. Tornado Joe is a beautiful fantasy that windmills his arms through life and hurts too many people I care about.

The trick is to find the balance between Tornado Joe and the fearful shadow that shackles expression of who I really am. As a robot who attempts (far too often) to understand the best protocols to connect with people instead of recklessly expressing passion for the wonders of this world I love, it's difficult to disregard the barriers we all create between each other.

But I really want to windmill your face. Not in a bad way...

Lessons I've learned:
I drink too much.
Writing, when I'm in the thick of creation, gives me as big a high as insobriety.
The lonelier I feel the harder it is to feel safe in connecting with even my closest of allies.
I don't dance enough to make this soul of mine groove.
Triscuits and Cream Cheese fucking rock.