Tonight, we dance: Arrivals, Departures, and the loss of Reinvention

At first, I typed error instead of an era and that almost seemed apropos.

“Time is on your side, yes, it is.” I love The Rolling Stones but fuck time. It’s never been on my side. It’s not my enemy. We learn to coexist. But it’s not on my side.

Crack the knuckles, let’s start the stream of consciousness, and let it be what it’ll be. If there are minors just FYI my thoughts are probably not family-friendly at times. After all, we’re talking about the last 16 years of my life from 22 until now so needless to say, stuff happened!

I hate the sound of his voice.

I hate the sound of the neighborhood.

I hate the fact that I hate these things because I don't like to hate at all let alone without good reason but sometimes you just can't help yourself and I think when that happens so long as you're not out of control you should allow yourself some wiggle room. Full disclosure, unrelenting honesty.

It was hot on July 20th, 2005. I drove a Kia and the air conditioning was broken. So was the drivers’ side window. Earlier that year I was living in Connecticut. The car was a base model with roll-up windows, some old-school shit. Anyways one morning when it was about 16 degrees, I tried to roll down the window to smoke a cigarette while I went for coffee. I was too impatient to let the car warm up and thaw so I pulled too hard and broke the window crank thingy. And of course, me being me I neglected to fix it and so when it came time to drive to my new home in Texas 5 months later I had to hold the window up as I drove through the Shenandoah Valley at 10 pm amidst severe thunderstorms and I had to endure the unbearable heat when I arrived in the South.

And I caught more than just a whiff as I rolled through Houston TX at 2 pm the next day, exhausted from driving all night, ashtray overflowing with cigarettes, and the passenger side floor riddled with cans of Red Bull.

I was too tired after holding it for 280 miles down I-81 in the worst thunderstorms I had ever seen. So, the thick soupy air ripe with the scent of oil bombarded me, unabated, until I cleared the city. Which, for the record, took an astonishing hour despite the light traffic.

I felt like I was in hell. But I would soon see that it was just Houston, and like Jersey City, Trenton, or Newark, once you clear their boundaries you realize the earth isn’t completely dead, there are still trees and grass and shit like that. But it can be tough when you’re in the eye of the storm.

I am being 100% truthful here, hand of God one of my first sights, as I barreled through downtown Houston, was an SUV that was passing me carrying a family of exceedingly overweight people who were ALL screwing cheeseburgers into their pudgy faces. Their sweaty, jiggly, fat faces. No hyperbole. I couldn’t believe the vehicle carried them, or that it could pass me given the tonnage. And I imagined they were getting about 3 miles to the gallon. Which was ok back then, but today?

I panicked. In my drug-addled, fatigued state I freaked out. At the moment I equated Houston and the hellscape it was with all of Texas…

And then there was the drive along 290 between Houston and Austin where I felt like I was in heaven. As the sun dropped lower in the sky it was orange and cast a gentle glow on the high Prairie. It was hot, but the breeze was cooling off and I hadn’t ever seen so much open space.

Never had I ever seen so much of the sky! Not even standing on the top of Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire.

I came through Austin as the sun was finally setting and I remember thinking, I remember this with perfect clarity, that I thought to myself this is good, I made the right decision.

I was only 22 years old. And I was embarking on the opportunity to reinvent myself. We only get so many opportunities to do that.

It just struck me as I’m flowing here that the ability to reinvent yourself, the process of reinventing yourself is a breath away from being a historical footnote. A point of nostalgia for a time reserved for those of us who understand it, and then gone forever in every context. With digital records of everything you say and do and have done I imagine it's incredibly difficult to reinvent yourself the way one could as I did in the year 2000 when I went off to college as a freshman or even in 2005 as I arrived in Austin on an evening where it was 111 degrees.

Soon not only will there be public, permeant records of everything you’ve said, done, purchased, or places you’ve gone but they’ll predict where you intend to go, what you intend to do, say, buy.

All that makes the fact that each time I've tried to reinvent myself I've come up short. I don't want to say that I failed because when I really examine my decisions and their outcomes to be fair to myself it's clear I did not fail. I also didn't succeed.

Last night I went out with a couple of friends who should know me by now. One of their friends came along as well, which was a good buffer. We went to see a comedy podcast at the Vulcan Gas Company and we somehow ended up at El Diablos on 6th St after the show talking about purgatory and how Burger King was sort of like purgatory.

I agree that Burger King is a lot like purgatory, but it got me to thinking that is where I exist, between success and failure. That’s my purgatory. I blame only myself for being here. I’m the one who set up shop while talking about things in the future that I’ve always known would never materialize.

The evening served as a reminder.

A reminder that warm, fuzzy memories be damned I have to leave and I have to leave as quickly and as swiftly as possible. Concurrently it was also a painful reminder of why I came here all those years ago. With her Texas twang, she and Gabe debated whether I’d like Texas that February in Connecticut. More specifically whether I’d like Austin. “Okay okay shut up, Sean don’t listen to him,” she waved him off and took Altoids out of her purse, and threw the tin at Gabe. “This is fer yer raging halitosis. Now shut up and let me school Sean on why he needs to go to Austin, not Texas necessarily. So, you could go to Austin and walk into any bar and see a homeless guy, a dude in a $3000 suit, and a hippie all sitting next to each other talking.”

Seemed like the perfect escape to me and it was. In 2005 when I arrived in Austin, that’s what I discovered. Not the three dudes per se but the vibe.

After discussing purgatory, I couldn't take the jabs from my buddy anymore even though that’s how we communicate. I was growing weary of the way he communicates with me. I’ve been tapped out for a long time, to be honest. So, I went downstairs to an empty patio with a fountain, and I realized that I had been here before. I had been here during my first week in Austin when this was an entirely different place.

During those early years, I had tons of chances for relationships and chose instant gratification over commitment because of what? Because I was afraid? Because I was abused when I was a child? When I really think about it, I realize what a bunch of horseshit that is. I failed at committing to a relationship because of my inability to deal with my insecurities and that's nobody's fault but my own.

Austin in 2005 was my final chance to genuinely reinvent myself and I didn’t fail, but like I said I didn’t succeed, either. And that’s just fine. It has to be fine.

My dad said to me once when I first moved to Austin that the people who go down in history, even on a micro-level in their communities or in their families as being truly great are usually alone all their lives because they dedicate themselves to that ONE thing and that ONE thing only. It brings both joy and suffering and they are loyal to it because at some point it stops being something separate from them and it becomes something that's simply a part of them.

More than being inextricably linked, it becomes part of their DNA, their raison d'etre. This was me when it came to working with youth. It was a surprising discovery that I would be so effective with troubled teenagers. I loved the charge of residential treatment. The thrill of creating a community and solving problems.

There was always a bond to be made and I always found myself making them.

And most importantly, and awkwardly, there was always something to learn about yourself.

And altruism aside, if I'm being perfectly honest it was always nice to be the one most needed, and I was needed the most.

As a result of my small successes with the youth at work in those early days, I made many enemies without even realizing it. I was told it was because of the ease with which I formed bonds while maintaining adherence to the rules. My peers tried to sabotage me and get me fired and it was only through the good graces of my boss Gina that I prevailed and went on to have quite the career in the field for another 15 years, despite the many attempts to defame me.

Gina would not only remain a friend and a mentor but become my Texas mother and we’re close to this day. Gina was right like my father was right. But because Gina saw my work firsthand, she was more precise in her warnings.

Be careful.

Be aware.

Remember there’s more.

I don’t think we ignore great advice intentionally. But we all ignore great advice. That doesn’t mean we stop giving it or receiving it though.

First, it was a great career in a great city. I had a great home. I was in great shape.

Then it became a passion. One which I dedicated every hour to. I took them running every morning.

Not too long after that, it became part of me. There was no separation.

And at some point, in the last 16 years, it became my raison d'etre.

So, my father was right, and he was prescient on the matter. I'm certain that the conversation I'm referencing happened in 2006 when my father first came out to Austin to visit me. By that point, I was working and poised to be promoted at the Austin Children Shelter under the mentorship of Gina.

And I was very much enamored with my new home in Austin TX. I have no doubt that he said what he said because the topic of whether I was in a relationship came up and the inevitable answer was that I take care of my needs but no, since Kholaina I had not let myself fall in love with anybody. I hardly let myself love anybody. And I most certainly didn't allow myself to trust anyone. My father patted me on the back. He told me that when it came to the relationship part my approach was kind of sad to hear but as far as the trust part I was on the right track.

My father has been right about so many things in my life when I wanted him to be wrong. Most of all, even more than the fact that he was right about what was going to happen in our country and to humanity, it upsets me that he was right about the fact that placing your trust in someone almost always ends in disappointment and betrayal. There are very few exceptions to this rule. Maybe the betrayal is small and something you can get past if it's with your partner or spouse or whatever. I suppose the rules might be a little bit different when you've been married to the love of your life for 40 years. But as a general law of the jungle, he's spot on.

And every time I experimented over the last 16 years with trusting someone in Austin, I got burned beyond anything I planned for. I got burned by the very people that claimed to be the most tolerant, open-minded, and trustworthy and what's worse is that they convinced me they were. There’s one exception and I drop to my knees at least once a day and thank Lord God Yahweh that this person exists. They know who they are.

I suppose one of my takeaways from my time in Austin will be this simple affirmation that you can trust essentially nobody. You’ll know if you find the aberration and they’ll know too.

As far as the rest let’s be clear that recognizing that rule of the wild doesn't mean you can't work with people and form alliances and even friendships. Anyone who tries to say otherwise is misconstruing my point because it makes them uncomfortable that what I'm saying is a reality. That or they just don't understand what trust with a capital T really is. My buddy last night is a prime example. He’ll castigate me for not trying with people, and much more but it’s his refusal to acknowledge I have a point that is most troubling.

Trust is the invisible bond. Without it, we’re gone.

The first time I tried to park downtown I got a ticket. It was my second day in Austin and my little Kia Rio Cinco, a car they don't even make anymore because it sucked so much, was packed to the brim with my few belongings. It was a hatchback. The ticket was for $10. I remember that because I only had $100 to my name. And in order to get the boot removed from my car, I had to go to 10th St and pay with a crisp $100 bill and all I could think was now my savings was in the double digits. I was going to have to start smoking old golds instead of Marlboros. I was gonna have to smoke schwag instead of kind bud. Shit was gonna get real.

After making payment and parking where I was allowed to park, I remember walking around downtown looking for the office building where I was supposed to have an interview for AmeriCorps. I looked up and saw the frost bank tower.

I asked a passerby if they could help me with directions and a man stopped, put down his briefcase, and looked at my piece of paper. By his facial expression, I could tell I was nowhere near my destination.

“I'm sorry to tell you this my friend but you're nowhere near your destination,” he said. This followed by “it's actually not that bad you're about 2 miles off you're looking for South Congress but you're downtown it's just Congress. Just get in your car and drive over the bridge and the destination will be on your left look for Freebirds tacos.”

People aren't friendly that way in Austin any longer. I know it's upsetting for people to hear and that buddy of mine would argue me on that point, but it happens to be irrefutably true. A burgeoning smart city complete with all the surveillance one could imagine Austin went from being a bastion of freedom and cheap living for those with dreams and aspirations to a techno dictatorship well positioned to be a flashy prison with apps. Nothing even close to what it was.

Those early days before the multiple sclerosis reared its ugly head and for years, I wouldn't even know that's what it was. I would run every day. From 2007 to 2010 when I lived on Central Park, what we call Zilker park here, I would ride my freestyle bike, a gorgeous diamondback, 2 1/2 miles to work at 5:00 o'clock in the morning. Upon arrival, I would take a group of boys and girls running 5 miles, and then I would work my shift and ride my bike home. When I think about it now, I don't even know how I did it but some evenings I even went for an additional bike ride on the trail and did a loop starting at Barton springs pool all the way to Riverside and around at the park which was about 3 1/2 miles.

So I chalked my declining health up to just getting a bit older in my late 20s. Working hard and not getting enough sleep. Anxiety and those terrible memories that were so dogged and persistent and tough to put back in the box. I figured those things combined were manifesting physiologically but unfortunately, it turned out to be lesions on my brain. Multiple sclerosis.

The doctors assure me that there is no connection between my multiple sclerosis and my incredibly severe vaccination injury from childhood but of course, there's a connection. Everything is connected. The injury itself, the placement in facilities to help remedy the fallout from that injury where I was brutalized, at the subsequent events of my adolescence, my college experience, all these things and every event within the bigger events are connected and my move to Austin was a naive attempt to escape. The diagnosis of multiple sclerosis in July of 2010 was one of my first wake-up calls.

I'm glad I didn't listen to the first wake-up call because the following ten years would be the best 10 years of my life in many ways. They were my most important years when it came to my work with youth and because, as I said earlier, the work became something much more than work, it became my raison d'etre, those 10 years were my best because of that ONE thing, as my father discussed. Because during those 10 years that ONE thing drove my purpose for being and I was able to see why I mattered in real-time.

I was able to convey to those youth why they mattered in a way that they could understand. But even more important than that in a way that made them realize I was being honest and not just telling them what they wanted to hear. That what was important to them important was by default important to me. That our relationships had nothing to do with power or the exertion of power upon them rather it was a partnership and even though they were under my wing, subject to boundaries and rules, they were still free human beings and could make any decision they wanted even if it was reckless and destructive. Naturally, I was always clear I did not want them to make reckless and destructive choices. My tact was to allow a discussion to occur where we could game out scenarios and empower them to see the cost/benefit analysis.

I truly hope that I was effective in helping them remember how free they are, recognize both the responsibility and the gravity of what it means to be free to make decisions and accept the results, and how to make informed decisions. I never said so explicitly but I'm sure the implication was clear that I was never encouraging them to be like me but to be much better and learn from adults when they’re sharing what works and what doesn’t.

I should have done a lot of things differently. I think everybody can say that about something in their life. I would surely love to meet anyone who claims, with complete honesty, that there wouldn't be one thing they would do differently. Not one decision they would change. Not one sentence they wish they could take back.

So tonight, we dance, my thoughts and me. But it's not the same. The night before I got in my little hatchback on July 19th, 2005, I was staying with a coworker. Her name was Jennifer and she worked at The Grove School where I worked. I rented an apartment downstairs for my final month in Texas, and I was a couple of years older than Jennifer. I helped her with her resume and as a way of thanking me, her parents invited me to dinner.

I'll never forget after dinner it was just the two of us and I was sitting at the dining room table and Jennifer was sitting on a stool at the center island holding a glass of wine. She swirled it and said “I know you're worried that some people say that you just picking up and moving to Austin is reckless, but I think... It'll be such a thrill.”

My original plans were to have that thrill and move on to experience different places. I never imagined I would fall in love with Austin and stay all these years. But I did. At some point, it became about complacency and my health and a host of other reasonable excuses. But as we dance, me and my thoughts, I find my heart is a bit heavy because I think of Jennifer holding her glass of wine and telling me what a thrill it was going to be. She was talking about the thrill of reinventing myself and we both knew it.

There will be no reinventing myself this time around because we live in a world that is less and less human. There's only the mission, and it hasn't really changed when I think about it.

Protect the young. Only now it'll be different because there won't be so many of the beautiful things woven into that mission that is purely human. Those things are disappearing. But as I weave my way through this labyrinth of insanity and try to play my role in defending our posterity, I know I will bump into old school humanity, and I plan to enjoy every moment of it while the big boys watch and document.

I'll be back in Texas but it's goodbye to Austin.

Thank you, Almighty God.

Thank you for bringing me to Austin at just the right time to catch the sunset. Thank you for everything you gave me.

Thank you for 16 beautiful autumns and 16 beautiful springs.

Thank you for the modern marvel known as air conditioning to make it through the insanely hot summers.

Thank you for the Hill Country.

Thank you for McKinney falls, Mount Bonnell, the Palo Duro Canyons, Twin Falls, the greenbelt, and every tree, trail, stream, lake, and open stretch of earth.

Thank you for the majestic live oaks. Thank you for the high Prairie that is the open country of Central Texas.

Thank you for the blessings woven into the fabric of my existence and thank you for helping me see when I lost sight of my vision.

Thank you.