500 Miles in Someone Else's Shoes

I've been hesitating on what to write about the Camino. I'd thought the lessons would all become apparent to me along the Way, but to be honest, they're only just starting to peek out of the shadows. It is like the ease with which one can solve the problems of others but not one's own: the issue has to be seen from a different perspective. Now that it has been nearly a month since I finished walking, the experience is finally folding together to the point where I can start making sense of it.

That's not to say the Camino was completely free of life lessons learned. In fact, I ran into an Italian hippie in Galicia who pointed out that the roads were paved with cow shit (I'd noticed) and said he had the realization one day that the more time he spent watching the road to avoid the cow shit, the more beautiful scenery he was missing. I agreed and added that, even if one steps in the shit, it can still be washed away. However, it was the "missing" aspect that I've only recently begun to notice.

I've been working heavily on another blog, Bill Beaver's Best Laid Plans, a travel blog. As I've been writing and incorporating pictures, I noticed how few pictures I have of some areas and how few are actually of higher quality. This may be a standard ratio among photographers, but it has only highlighted what has been missing: time.

There are ten commandments of the Camino. I have been unable to locate a full list online, only references to the list I saw but did not fully process in Castrojeríz, but one stands out right now: You shall not change your pace to match another's.

I had mapped out my Camino to start on March 3rd and conclude on April 8th. A day behind in Pamplona, I figured I would sacrifice a day in Santiago to compensate. Instead, I met two other peregrinos with whom I decided to keep pace, not the least reason of which being that one was close in age to me and attractive. I kept pace with both of them for half the Camino, hurrying through some towns I'd originally planned to explore in more depth. I caught up to my missing day and surpassed it. True, we seldom walked together for long, and by the midpoint of the Camino, both went further than they'd said, and I was left behind.

Someone wiser could have seen these two as faces who had entered and left my life, as is the natural way of things, but instead, feeling hurt and abandoned, I continued at the pace they had set. I made photographic sacrifices: it was too much of a hassle to take out the camera, and I was losing time and distance behind them. What if I didn't see them again in Santiago before they left, four days before I arrived? It became this huge, important matter that I somehow catch up with them, so much so that, even on the days where I decided to go slower, I still put in the same distances and made the same photographic sacrifices. I stopped making friends in the same way as I walked. I became hurried and impatient with people who wanted to chat. I was pushing myself to catch up with someone else's Camino and had given no more than a fleeting glance at my own Camino and what it meant to me. That, at least, has affected my journal and work afterward, especially as I read more into these places and learn more of what I missed.

Now, that being said, 480 miles is a long walk with lots to see and limited memory card space. I was subject to the complaints of my body and the more pressing matters at hand than just snapping photos, like where to rest. However, the fact remained that the complaints of my body were directly proportional to the number of kilometers walked in a given day, as set by my desire to catch up to my past friends in the future. This is a very important parallel to daily life and one that demands awareness.

I'm a people pleaser. After a year in Codependents Anonymous, this still presents a problem, especially in the way I pace my life. Right now, I am unemployed, but my biggest concern right now is not that I'm running out of money (I'm okay for a while longer); my biggest concern is that I will have to justify myself to my mother. Each time I get a text message and see it is from her, even if it's a funny picture of the dog, I immediately get ready to explain my actions in a way that she will find acceptable and thus let me off the hook. It is a mentality that regularly takes me away from what I was originally doing. I'm trying to walk her Camino.

On a project level, for the last year, I have been floundering in a field of non-creativity, owing to one of my college lessons that said something to the effect of "You only have a few years to make it in the business." This thought led me to blaze through and submit my first screenplay to multiple companies, a screenplay with which I was not personally happy but which I thought the readers needed to see soon. I jumped to match their pace and sent them inferior work. I have tried to churn out short scripts for my director friends quickly, the idea being turnover, turnover, turnover. Thus far, I have not had anything produced because the work is hurried and inferior. I'm noticing the same in my photography, ignoring lighting and rushing framing to churn out content before I'm overlooked by someone who does not exist. I am walking the Camino of the professional world.

In romance, well, hell, what haven't I already said about romance? To the present, I've operated my relationships on the idea that my date needed constant entertainment, a complete sharing of interests, and anything else they may request, as soon as they request it. Otherwise, they would leave me behind. And this was important to me. I have put down my own work, beliefs, and interests because someone else, whom I happened to find attractive, found them subpar. I have been walking the Camino of everyone I ever dated and completely lost myself in them each time.

So what now? The physical Camino is over, and now I'm almost a month back in Los Angeles. The question now floating in and out of my head is "How do I get back on my Camino?"

It's not an easy process. I've built so much of my worldview on expectation and assumption that the idea of dropping them is confusing. I've lost so much of my ideation process in the grand hurry that I now have to dig deep in order to get it back. I have to find a job that, yes, will pay the bills, but at the same time, I may also need to be a little more picky with what I choose instead of just picking something to be employed again and not have to explain. Hovering over this is the concern that, if I couldn't figure this out with all my alone time on the Camino, how could I possibly figure it out back in the big city of LA?

The process is already starting. It takes a return to the old world to see what has been picked up from the new one (or is that reversed?). Writing Bill's adventures, above all things, is highlighting how much is lost in trying to walk someone else's Camino. The point is, people will wait if they know it's worth their while, and if not, it is no catastrophe. I have walked to the End of the World, and I remember enough to know that this is not it. So the plan, as of now, is to finish the blog, to focus on writing a good book instead of a quick book, and to find a job that lends itself to both of the previous. It may take until May to accomplish; it may take longer. I have time, and I have my lessons to back me. However, I have to stay on my Camino now. The plantar fasciitis reminds me of that.

In Training

I haven't written much about my physical health in a while, suffice it to say that sitting for 9 hours a day, 5 to 7 days a week, takes its toll. The back aches, the eyes blur, and the... well, we'll leave it with back and eyes for the time being.

In any case, things are about to be shaken up in a few short weeks. I'm going to be unemployed! Huzzaaa... what was that again? Yup, after being extended from 4 months to 13 months at Disney, I am about to reach my last extension. Then the playing field changes, and for at least one month, I will no longer take my seat in the shitty chair with the corroding back support and the poor lighting that magnifies the deleterious effects of an otherwise thoroughly adjusted computer screen. Instead, I will fly to Spain. On a plane. To cross the plain. In the rain. AND NOT ONCE COMPLAIN.

I've had a hankering, ever since Junior year of high school, to embark down the French route of El Camino de Santiago de Compostela. For those unfamiliar, it's a roughly 500-mile pilgrimage route that starts (among many places) in St. Jean Pied-de-Port in France, traverses Basque Country and the high meseta, and settles into stormy Galicia, ultimately culminating at Cape Finisterre, considered in Medieval times to be the end of the world. Is it ironic that I finally have the time and resources to walk there in 2012?

This morning, I completed my first 14-mile training walk to test out my mettle and my Merrells. I walked from Glendale to Chinatown to Silver Lake and back to Glendale via Los Feliz. To my advantage, the weather was pleasant, the hills minimal, the way familiar, and the feet new to the experience. I completed the trek in four and a half hours, stopping along the way to watch a brown widow spider kill a caterpillar and to buy a lunch of my own. Mapquest told me I should have finished in 5 1/2 hours... Umm...

One of my constant concerns with my body is overdoing it. I've screwed up my shoulder doing weights and my hamstring during Capture the Flag (getting old sucks), and Vishnu knows I've had issues with the heat on the track. As I sit here typing this, I've been back for five hours. My fingers are no longer swollen, though my legs and feet are not used to this degree of walking. I managed to avoid blisters but did feel hot spots. I will probably wake up tomorrow and hobble into work as the stiffness sets in. I remind myself that this is training, but will the little training I can manage over the next few weeks suffice? I mean, I will be repeating this walk every day of the week for four weeks. Actually, I take it back; this will be a mid-length walk.

As much as the pilgrimage itself is about faith in general, I suppose it will also be a test of faith in my body. Lately, with all the sitting, I have begun to feel a lot older than my coworkers remind me, and I wonder if the Camino will make this better or worse. It then begs the question of what comes after? More sitting? Most likely... But, perhaps, I will one day find a place with better chairs and better lighting. Who knows for sure? Those are things to address on the long walk. In the mean time, it's time to rest and plan, rest and plan.

You Know... (Part Four)

You know you're giving off the wrong vibe when young, attractive, Chinese students flock to your brother and even your parents to have pictures taken with them over the course of the trip, but the only photo request you receive is from a grinning 60-year old man.

You know you're hanging with the wrong crowd when after two minutes of recounting your adventures in China, you're interrupted by a half-hour monologue on personal drama and food, and the conversation is over.

You know there's a good reason for being paranoid when your boss hides a camera on his desk, films you brushing crumbs from your shirt into the trash can, and shows the entire office how, from that angle, it looks like you're taking a piss.

Re-bloom

I had a really nice surprise today at work. My supervisor apologized to me. It's not something I'm used to, so the occasion really stood out.

Here's the scenario: we had to reorder some record boxes from storage. My job was to search for the box numbers in our database, E-mail them to my supervisor, and she would take it from there. So I did, and I checked it twice, sort of like Santa, but not.

Today, I was informed that I'd ordered the wrong boxes, a big faux pas, because to reorder boxes costs about $50 per box. Though confused, I was sure I had made the mistake out of sheer laziness and prepared to enter the classic area of self-punishment. Still, my supervisor wanted me to re-verify in the database, which I did. Much to our mutual surprise, the numbers were wrong in the database, hence the apology. Much to my greater surprise, the error was not my own.

Over the years, I've grown accustomed to accepting blame for a lot of things, whether or not I'm actually responsible for them. Since my memory of each step of a monotonous process isn't fantastic, I err on the side of criticism because I simply do not have the instant recollection to say with 100% conviction that the error was not my own. At that point, I jump on the criticism bandwagon and start berating my work, my work ethic, my memory, how I'll never really be a good employee, etc. It's basically a frenzy to assure myself that I'm not stupid, just lazy, but not lazy, just tired, but not tired, too stressed, which leads to a whole new surge of criticism and compounds the latter problem.

In the past year, these trains of thought have begun occurring less frequently, but when I do jump on one of them, it does start down a lot of the same tracks. I'm obsessed with assuring people that I'm not stupid, that I'm not lazy, that I'm not mean, that I'm not emotionally invested, that I'm not a writer, that I don't take part in the USC-UCLA rivalry, that I'm not attracted to anyone, that I'm not religious, that I'm not an atheist, that I'm not like a Californian, that I'm not like a Utahn, that I'm not like an American, that I'm not like an Earthling... Toot toot!

And so today, this simple sentence, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to blame you," knocked me right off the train. The strange revelation that I did the job right reminded me of one thing that I am: thorough. To me, it was greater than a compliment, because it wasn't intended to be such and was thus devoid of all insincerity or social compulsion, just good manners. It boosted my confidence, and I'm ready to keep doing good work. I mean, hell, they've already extended my assignment by a month and a half, so I can't be that awful, right?

I came home at the end of the day, and found that all three buds on my orchid had bloomed. Most people throw away their orchids after the flowers wither, but I kept this one for a year, and now, it is beautiful again. There's one more thing I can do. I wonder what else is out there.

Sweet Tooth

I'm getting zombie teeth. You know the type, long, sharp, hungry for the brains of... well, maybe not the third level there, but I'm getting, as they say, long in the tooth. I'm 23; this doesn't normally happen until after 40. So what is the deal?!

Back in October (Around Halloween time... Ooo, zombies...) I wrote up my hypothesis for the digestive issues I'd been experiencing: that they were caused by the reawakening of a latent dairy allergy. This was quickly disproven by the fact that the issues persisted for a while, notwithstanding the use of orange juice for cereal (which is pretty darn good anyhow). Now, it's gone from the middle of the tract to the top, and I'm a little miffed.

It turns out that periodontal disease is pretty darn common, somewhere around 75% of adults get it. In this case, the gums recede until the roots are exposed and sometimes require dental extraction. Not my cup of tea. Oh, and by the way, it seems that the issue has intensified since joining the adult work force and upping my consumption of tea. Turns out, that's a factor. I've also been upping my sugar consumption. It seems that's not only a factor in my mouth but also in my gut. Excess sugar consumption feeds bacteria, which then produce toxins that can kill gum tissue and upset the stomach. Oh really? Tell me more! All that rigorous tooth-brushing I've been doing to massage the gums and clean up the teeth has actually been stressing out the gums even more! It's a zombie trio, and they've caught my chompers by surprise!

A couple of things will need to happen here. I don't think the tissue can regrow, but the shrinkage can be stopped. Fortunately, my smile (when I show it) is unaffected, but I really don't like the idea of going full-zombie. Fortunately, next week is the start of Lent, which gives me a great opportunity to give no processed sugar a test run. That means 40 days of no dessert. Yikes. This will require some serious creativity. I may even include 40 days of no tea and incorporate a new, softer toothbrush. At this rate, I can only hope that this plan succeeds where "no dairy" failed so miserably. Updates in April. Now if only I could find someone willing to consume all the sugary delectables piled up around my apartment...

Swish Flip Swish

I've concluded that a sure-fire solution to the desires of any sympathy-seeking person is to take a job in filing. In the last three weeks that I have been filing at Disney, I have received apologies from my boss, my coworkers, and even random passers-by. "I'm sorry," runs the line, "I couldn't do that."

I don't understand the outpouring of pity. I started filing before I was old enough to work...legally. I organize for amusement. Of course, this is an odd little character trait by itself, but there is one further argument for filing that actually occurred to me in the midst of the swish flip swish of pages.

Filing is actually an ideal day job for a creatively minded person. What a paradox, I know! How can such a mindless, monotonous activity possibly contribute to the well being of a creative person? It's for that very reason! It's mindless, but, what's more, it's meditative! I can sit there for hours with nothing but the swish flip swish and shut off all of my brain except the creative side. While the senses focus on the pages, the mind focuses on the concepts. Since starting this job, my at-home productivity, after a day of brainstorming, is booming.

So to my covey of well-wishers, I raise a palm and say, "There is no need for your pity, for filing and I are old friends, and the more time we spend together, the more we get done. Now you may return to your exhaustion and groans on another Monday's monotone, while I and my files frolic in the silence of the mind. Boom!"

You Know... (Part Three)

You know you're getting older when the quality of your day hinges upon the quality of your morning BM.

You know you're getting older when your coworkers no longer asked if you're seeing anyone but whether you're married or have kids.

You know you're a mythology nerd when every radio advertisement for Harrah's Rincon evokes thoughts of peacock feathers and jealous rage.

Supersecret

It is good to be back in the workforce again after the three-week hiatus. It turns out, my name came up in a discussion of temps back at Disney, and one Ghostbusters reference later, they gave me a call.

The return was bittersweet; one of my coworkers had suffered a heart attack and another had been found dead at home a few days before. It's really served as an important reminder that any given day could be the last I see someone and therefore need to appreciate these days more. On the brighter side, my return has been hailed by a storm of delight from former coworkers and even some people with whom I'd never spoken a day in my life. It's kind of cool when people notice you're gone.

In any case, whereas I once complained about being isolated in the center of everything, now I am isolated in the back corner of everything, which suits me just fine, because I have now entered Loss Prevention, or as I like to call it, the Crime Fighting Division! Even though my responsibilities are mostly filing and spreadsheets, it has been really cool so far to have a part in the rounding up of swindlers and vagabonds, Old West style (with additional technological advancements). A sheriff's badge has been suggested. And considered.

On a side note, now that I have to get up at 5:00 for this job, what I thought would be a gross inconvenience has turned out to be very useful. I now have more time in the evenings to write, and so far, productivity is skyrocketing. Again, it is good to be working.

Enter the Rabbit

It's that time again when the years shift gears, and the sights and sounds of the past make way for the hopes and fears of the future. This upcoming year, I seek to focus on the hope aspect as I make my Ass Burgery resolutions for 2011, the Year of the Rabbit, my year.

Bun
I want to keep exploring religious experiences and learn how to better understand and connect with the divine. This will mean being more open about religion with the people in my life and asking to attend services with them. I may start reading the Bible at some point in the year; I just need to figure out pacing.

Meat
I need to re-think my workout routine to incorporate more variety; instead of just doing weights during the week, it will be important to work on my cardiovascular health and flexibility. I'd like to find some new activity groups and take a class or two, if I can find one that is convenient and affordable.

Cheese
I want to make some more friends, and I want our friendships to be unmasked, which means cutting down mightily on the showmanship and focusing instead on reality and intimacy. I always vow to work on correspondence, but really, it's a struggle all the time. Surrounding all of these elements, I will be developing healthy boundaries to stave off the psychoses.

Lettuce
This will be the year I learn to love myself. This will involve taking more pride in my accomplishments, reflected on The To-Smite List, and really letting go of the past. I discovered a new technique for handling demons, which is to feed them rather than fight them. I look forward to putting this technique to the test and tending to my family of pet demons.

Tomatoes
I want to get a stable job and put my finances in order. I'm already taking steps toward this by creating a budget chart and investing in Personal Finance for Dummies. Learning to be aware of and to manage my bank accounts will be a revolutionary step toward responsible adulthood. Also, I want to train my focus so that I can finish my projects in a timely manner, while taking into account the fact that I do need to have fun here and there.

Onions
This will tie in with my demon work, but I want to learn to embrace my emotions instead of hide from them, both in my mind and in expression. I want to revel in both happiness and sadness.

Ketchup
I want to find someone who will treat me with respect, who can handle my light and my dark, and who will actually enjoy my devotion. I'd like to be in a relationship longer than three months.

Updates and Thanks

It's amazing how quickly this last month has passed, and already Thanksgiving has swept on through like a turkey with a jet pack... and a lot of meth. Nonetheless, tardiness aside, I'd like to take a moment to express thanks for a month of multi-layered progress:

Bun:
- I'm learning to add the spi- to the -ritual.
- I'm discovering that a life of misery is not the will of God.

Meat:
- I have started to incorporate stretching into every workout.
- I am learning how to subsist on more than crackers and mashed potatoes.
- I have done the unthinkable and attained mastery of my domain.

Cheese:
- Having removed myself from Facebook, I am attracting more direct and personal relationships.
- I am practicing the principle of not letting the sun go down on my wrath.
- I am learning to handle confrontation and, once initiated, resolve it.
- I am removing the pressure to socialize, in favor of something more genuine.
- I am learning to communicate more directly and efficiently.
- I am taking further interest in the detailed lives of others.

Lettuce:
- In absence of a logical reason to be depressed, I've decided to be cheerful.
- I'm discovering the things I like about myself.
- I'm raising my awareness of my limits and flaws and addressing them directly.
- I'm learning to separate my past behavior from my current, progressive self, and thus stop the trains of thought at the station.

Tomatoes:
- I have started to take more regular breaks at work.
- I'm finding ways to make work more exciting, for instance, pretending that I'm the HR equivalent of Jack Bauer with limited time to sort 500 applications.
- I'm letting myself spend money.
- I'm planning ahead.

Onions:
- I'm discovering that subduing my emotions, then chastising myself for having subdued emotions, is stupid.
- I'm exploring my feelings of sadness and anger when I feel them, instead of trying to force them into the shape of delight.
- I am acknowledging my moments of happiness with the understanding that though they may not last, they are enjoyable.
- I am letting myself be moved by music.

Ketchup:
- I am again single, but I am shedding bitterness as I become more aware of how I approach relationships.
- I am working to resolve previous issues that have corrupted my perception of relationships.
- I am re-discovering "No" with the understanding that the right people can still say "Yes" a week after hearing "No."

He Works Hard for the Money

I learned a valuable lesson in professional behavior today, and it came in a wholly unexpected form: my boss told me to go home early because I work too much. When I told her I still needed to finish these last few projects, she said, "No, you don't. That's my job. Go home."

It's peculiar how, over the years, while my employers have gotten progressively more approachable and accommodating, I have become proportionally more neurotic about doing my job. This means getting the projects done at all costs with minimal lunch time, minimal blinking, minimal breathing, and you can just plain forget about ten-minute breaks. Yes, technically I'm required by law to take full breaks throughout the day, but tell that to my brain.

I've made plenty of mistakes in past jobs, and each one has made me more determined not to make the same one again. When one combines this with five months spent unemployed and living off peanut butter sandwiches and crackers, not to mention my last semester of college spent learning how employers are basically itching for an excuse to replace me with someone better, of course I'm going to rush head-first into work. Of course I'm going to hyperactively request projects and finish them in a blaze and come home at the end of the day utterly exhausted because I felt taking breaks would be a sign of laziness and thus make me more expendable.

It's a difficult thing to digest: being told by my boss to work less, having convinced myself, preposterously, that anyone who is happy in the workplace isn't putting enough energy into their job. It wasn't until last week that I found out I could actually leave by 5:30 if I only had a half-hour lunch. I also found out that it's okay to pour myself a cup of tea using the company's supplies. Even then, I still feel like cutting out at 5:30 is slacking and using company supplies is freeloading. Now I'm not sure what to do with the free time or how to convey that it is technically free time and that I'm not just being lazy, or whether that really even matters. I guess what I'm trying to say here is... cool! Let the ten-minute relaxation commence!

Introduction

I've found quite a few blogs written about Asperger's Syndrome, mostly by parents of children with the disorder, but surprisingly few actually written by those with the syndrome. While this may be great for parents, it sure doesn't help one's self esteem to be the subject of scientific scrutiny. Case in point: April is National Autism Awareness Month. Asperger's is an Autism Spectrum disorder. To me, that makes April "National Kyle Jarrett's Brain Is Royally Screwed Up" Month. Then again, that just doesn't have the same ring to it.

I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome in 2004, during a private meeting with a reputable psychiatrist. It may help to point out that I was not actually a part of this meeting, and that once my mom left the room and I had my own private meeting, the same reputable psychiatrist diagnosed me with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I knew there was something fishy right away: there should be a hyphen between "Obsessive" and "Compulsive," right? In any case, it wasn't until the winter of 2008 that I finally— Obsessive─Compulsive! Ahh... Now where was I?

Asperger's Syndrome is surprisingly easy to describe to the unfamiliar. Imagine yourself at a Christmas party, and clinking around the Christmas tree is a model train. While everyone else laughs, jokes, connects, and enjoys each other's company, your attention is on that train. Observe the awesome mechanisms that move it forward. Listen to the friendly sounds it makes: Whoo whoo! Notice how you never grow tired of watching it circle around and around, because it lets you turn off your brain and avoid the insufferable mundanity of conversing about jobs, weather, and alcohol.

The problem with this scenario is that humans are social animals, and Asperger's is a social disorder. National "Kyle Jarrett's Brain Is Royally Screwed Up" Month, Q.E.D. Apart from the feelings of alienation and despair, the disorder works in both directions and consequently, has pretty much made me into an ass. I get offended by light humor, condescending toward those who don't play by (or understand) my convoluted rules, and reclusive around those who try to disrupt my compulsive routines and regimens with a little social time. How my friends have stuck with me, I'll never know.

What I do know is that I'm tired of Asperger's. In fact, I quit. If Whoopi Goldberg can conquer dyslexia, then why can't I change April to National "Kyle's Brain Is All Right" Month? I've spent so much time putting the "ass" in "Asperger's" that the time has come to work on the other half: the "burger." To do so, I will need to focus on the following seven components: Bun (Spiritual), Meat (Physical), Cheese (Social), Lettuce (Personal), Tomatoes (Professional), Onions (Emotional), Ketchup (Romantical)

This shall be my accountability blog, on which I shall face my failures and mark my successes. I make no claim of professional expertise or any pretense of family-friendly content. My language will be expressive and sometimes crass, which, if you are from Utah, will offend. In that case, I say "grow some."

Now let's flip some burgers.