Na na na na na na na na Batman!

Batman! da na na na na na na na Batman! da na na na na na na na, BATMAN! da na na na na na na na batman! da na na na na na na na BATMAN! Batman! Batman! da na na na na na na na... !!!

Before there was Michael Keaton, before sexy Val Kilmer, before most eligible bachelor George Clooney, or dark brooding Christian Bale... there was the one... the only... ADAM WEST.

And if any of you were actually singing to the opening da na na na na na na, theme song to this post, then you know the legend of whom I speak.

BLAM! KAPOW! BOOM!

And tonight, at the largest comic convention in the prairies, Mr. Adam West warmly returned my handshake accompanied by words so flattering they would have melted dark chocolate on a iceberg floating in the Atlantic on a cold January morning.

To anyone but a trained eye, it would have looked (and sounded) a lot like he was flirting. And to my boys, the story will always be:

"Remember the time when Batman hit on mom?"

But keeping my fragile female vanity in check (and to be fair to all the other adoring fans), he was, upon keen observation, simply portraying the true picture of grace and appreciation that he is.

On some level, here was a man who understood that adoring fans (and the timeless popularity of an iconic series based on one of DC's greatest heroes), were directly responsible for affording him this unbelievable life.

Think about it. He gets to make people happy with his mere presence. And makes a lot of money doing it. Bonus!

But not all celebrities feel that way.

There are enough stories of celebs who make no bones about their distaste for the paparazzi and adoring fans to make you wonder why they ever chose acting in the first place.

But then again, like everything else, it all comes down to that feeling thing again.

And I bet Adam West is a lot happier than someone like Megan Fox whose negativity on set is becoming legendary among crew members (who long for the day when she is a has-been doing porn for less than a hooker makes on nickel day as punishment for being evil to people who have done nothing but show her unwarranted civility).

It may sound corny, but being grateful for the little things is a big deal when it comes to the quality of your life. It has to do again, with perception.

As you think, so you shall be.

And experience has taught me that people who are grateful for where they are in life and what they have regardless of what it is (ie; dreams achieved or not), are simply better off on all levels.

Ironically, being grateful usually brings it own reward in the form of serendipitous events that carry within them seeds of opportunity that hold the potential to propel one forward to the very goals that elude them.

But in the end, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun without those struggles.

Our best stories - the ones shared over drinks at the bar, or at backyard parties - are comprised of the struggles we endured along the way and how alive some of those challenges made us feel as each one tested our character to the limit.

I'm sure whoever set up the game, had this in mind.

Or in the words of Robin:

The way we get into these scrapes and get out of them, it's almost as though someone was dreaming up these situations; guiding our destiny. - Robin

So whether Adam West was destined to be Batman, or Megan Fox destined to be the hot chick in action flicks, or whether I am destined to be a best-selling author is something we'll never know.

But we control the journey to a large extent, with our attitudes.

And I for one, would like to thank Mr. Adam West for reminding me.

Once more with feeling...

Just so y'all know... acting "as if" is not about owning a BMW.

It never was. It could be, if that's what floated my boat. But it doesn't have to be.

It's all about the feeling.

Manifesting principles are all about working and feeling your way to a better life, to a better frame of mind.

And in my books, the best kind of life has to do with quality - not quantity.

That means quality of living, quality of time well spent. Less 9-5, more doing what I was designed to do in life (and from wherever I choose), while balancing that 'career' with a bucket list that sounds more like a permanent adventure vacation mixed in with rest periods of rejuvenating hedonism.

How do I feel getting up in the morning, about to face another day of what it is that I do? Am I doing what I do best? Or am I just doing what I am doing because those are the cards I was dealt?

I believe in stacking the deck in one's favor.

Ferriss refers to quality of life as that which gives you the most freedom. In doing so, he compares relative income to absolute income. Relative income uses two variables (p. 36) - dollar and time, while absolute income uses one -dollar.

If you make $100,000 a year by working 80 hours a week, you've worked a total of 4,160 hours - minus your 80 hours vacation per year - 4,080 hours. $100,000 divided by 4,080 = approximately $24.50/hr.

That's your hourly wage.

And if you're lucky, you've had 2 weeks in the sun as a respite from all that stress. But your absolute income is $100,000.

Say you make an income of $50,000 a year, but work only 10 hours a week, you start to factor in the free time you have. This becomes relative income. 10 hours a week works out to 520 hours a year. 50,000 divided by 520 = you're making approximately $96/hr.

Dude B is making almost four times as much as dude A given the amount of time each spends actually working. It's all relative.

If you love what you do to the point where those hours feel more like fun than work, then by all means, knock yerself out. But my guess is that's the exception, not the norm for most people.

And to participate in a lifestyle that is based on relative income, you have to have an idea, a job, or a platform upon which you can slowly extricate yourself from the rat race, one hour at a time, until you are performing your 'duties' either remotely or without so many hours of stress-inducing office-environment obligations.

Hence the book. Which requires (almost always) an agent, who is part of a hierarchy without which your chances of having publishing doors open are practically nil - guaranteed.

(We are practically invisible in this world without the chains of command that bind us to each other).

Here's where that 'feeling' comes in again: It's only a good feeling when you control it and make it so.

If someone in the chain of command of your life - someone to which you have given certain power, responsibility or emotional authority - either doesn't step up to the plate, falls short, or is too busy to do so, then that feeling you have managed to sustain may be in jeopardy - UNLESS, you have a backup plan.

As I am slowly discovering, I will be waiting for weeks before anything I wrote will be read by my agent, let alone sent to a publishing house because, "That's just the way it is. Things move slowly in the field of publishing." One client at a time...

I won't get into the details that made me feel like I should have been mailed one of those numbers you pull from the dispenser at a deli along with my contract, except that I am in a 'queue' patiently waiting my turn.

And I have no choice. Or do I?

After getting over the shock that I am insignificant in the large scheme of things because I am unknown, unproven and unpublished, I turned once again to the thing that drives me forward...

Call it a feeling

It took me a few days to generate that feeling again that told me a combination of faith and hard work was my surefire recipe for success, but I got it back.

After managing to successfully generate and sustain a limitless possibilities feeling, based purely on speculation alone, unrecognized talent and sheer determination I am ashamed to admit, one conversation was all it took to send me spinning backwards into doubt mode.

And it wasn't even my agent's fault. She's just swamped and busy beyond. I could hear it in her voice. (That, and she asked me the same questions she did before, the answers to which she already knew).

I still think she's a gunner. I just have to give her time. But that's not the point.

Like I've said before - we are entirely responsible for our own 'feelings'. And those feelings are largely what dictates our successes and our failures.

I may not be able to control what anyone else says or does (or doesn't say or do for that matter), but the one thing I can control is how I respond.

That was a huge lesson for me this week. And it took me a few days until I could even write about it because I was so choked.

Now however, I'm back on board and ready for a new strategy. After all, if I want things to clip along more quickly, nobody's holding me back.

Except me.

Time to get out of my own way.

"Acting as if" - How the Adventure Played Out

Since the Audi dealership was on the way to BMW, it was my AP's turn to go first. Besides, she was better than me at acting "as if" - I had seen her do it before - so I needed to see how things were done.

I parked my car in the adjacent lot and we walked up to the Audi showroom. I had my camera up the left sleeve of my jacket ready to capture an "as if" snapshot at a moment's notice.

When the salesman approached us, I watched in awe as my normally soft-spoken AP pulled off an Oscar-worthy performance, as she (without so much as batting an eyelash) asked the friendly salesman if he had an Audi "cab" she could look at somewhere on the premises.

"Someone just took it out for a test drive. They should be back in about twenty minutes if you care to do the same."

"That would be nice", she said.

Please God, no.I thought.

It is my firm belief that at that moment, the Gods heard me and set up a traffic jam to prevent such an occurrence as this vehicle never made it back in time before we left.

Once we were actually in the showroom, I bantered far too much with the salesman (a transparent ploy to hide my nervousness) as my AP gracefully climbed behind the wheel of a vehicle that vastly exceeded my yearly earnings and asked me to take a photo of her from every angle.

Every angle???All I could think was they would suspect we were setting things up for a B & E Hollywood style like bank robbers do with hidden cameras before a heist.

But, never to cower before a challenge, I proceeded to tell the salesman an 'insider's' tidbit - "She just wants to see how she looks in it before she buys. She thinks black washes her out - she's an 'autumn'" and looked at him with that 'you know' to emphasize that innate fashion sense every woman is born with.

Much to my relief, it worked. We left shortly thereafter but not before my AP promised the salesman she would be in touch by Tuesday if she was interested to discuss her order.

Nice touch.

Now it was my turn.

As we made the trek to BMW, as good as I felt and as valuable as I found this exercise to be, there was NO WAY ON GOD'S GREEN EARTH I could legitimately pretend I was buying a Beamer.

The best I could muster was "Just looking". And on that note, I wasn't budging.

I had to work my way up to the extreme role-playing mode until such a time as the thought that God might smote me down for such folly was completely eradicated from my mind.

The way I saw it, guilt was bound to defeat the prupose of this exercise. Better to start small, then go big over time. I was after all, only in the process of building up to the belief that I was worth it. On many levels, my AP was already there.

So we compromised.

I found my chosen convertible BMW cabriolet in the parking lot and meekly asked my AP if she could take my picture leaning against it so we could call it a day and go for beer n' Nachos. I was starving.

NO

So we entered the showroom guided by a devilishly handsome salesman with a dry sense of humor who knew the ins and outs of the BMW body the way bunnies do the Playboy Mansion. He then explained that "BMW owners are a fun, active lot, who seem to enjoy life more than most".

That's me! This is good! I could feel my comfort level rising. Keep talkin'.

And that's when I saw it:

the 2010 BMW 6 series Cabriolet in black.

Her top was down and she was calling me.

We stepped towards the car and suddenly the grin on my face was unmistakeable. As the salesman went to his office to fetch the brochure my AP asked him to get for me, she turned to me and said:

"Get in."

With some trepidation, I climbed into the driver's seat cognizant of the fact that I was only there for the experience and looked around me at all the gadgets wondering if it would ever feel the way it did for my AP back at Audi.

Slowly, I realized - She was beautiful.

Before I knew it, I had run my finger across the real wood finishing, gently caressed the heated steering wheel with awe, and stroked the leather seats that I was now convinced were mine.

Oh yeah babi. I was all over it.

By the time the salesman had returned with my glossy brochure, my AP had taken four shots of me in the car from various angles. But I was in my own little world.

As the salesman opened the car door and smiled down at me, there was only one thing on my mind. I turned to him and said:

"Does it come in white?"

I was hooked.

And I finally accepted that I was having fun. I felt like a kid in a candy store.

Suddenly it was easy to let the salesman talk about all the features of each car and tell me in great detail about the craftsmanship and engineering genius of BMW and the color combinations available in each series, because I was genuinely interested in a way that exceeded mere curiosity.

I was relegating this information to memory for future use. For my future self. And I was as giddy as a school girl experiencing the joy of her first crush.

Yes indeed. In that moment, I OWNED my future self. And it felt great.

By the end of our little adventure, I was sold on a white, Series 6 BMW Convertible Cabriolet with a tan top and tan interior. Or "at the very least", I told my new 'friend', "I'm going to lease one some day soon." and meant it.

Piece o' cake.

Next - Celebrating the half-way point - Where do we go from here.

Acting "As If" - the morning set-up

I woke up Saturday with the sore throat I had been fighting all week and said to myself: As if! Not today of all days!

...and decided right then and there that nothing, and I mean nothing was about to distract me from the task at hand.

So I prepared.

I knew I had some time before I had to pick up my AP and thought I should get into character from the get-go.

So after winding myself up to a degree of enthusiasm exceeded only by the jackpot winnner of the nickel slots in Vegas, I managed to choke down two cups of a Tibetan tea recipe that challenged my gag reflex but knocked my startled virus into different time zone.

Happy with my progress thus far, I set about thinking:

Today is all about me. So what would make me happy?

Well, the sun for one thing.

It had been unusually cloudy of late and frankly that was starting to piss me off. Not that I suffer from S.A.D. or anything but a sunny day is like medicine for the soul. So I decided I was going to get me some.

I hit a tannning salon for 8 minutes of glorious manmade UVA rays and imagined I was in Hawaii catching a few while waiting for my surfing lesson to start.

Then I washed my car. After all, if I'm about to trade it in for a BMW, I would make sure it was clean!

Then I went to the store and picked up a box of organic green mix (not something I normally do as it's pricier) and then adamantly refused to buy the option 2 box of chicken I wanted as this was after all, suppose to be a day when one does not settle for second best. So I didn't.

Yep, I am proud to say I silenced the bargain shopper in me faster than the mob silences the idiot who leaves a witness protection program of their own volition.

Then I went to the gym. Great workout. Not too much, just enough to feel good, not sore or strained.

Came home, showered, napped briefly, changed, grabbed my camera and left.

So far, it was the perfect day.

First stop - Audi

Virtual visualization

It's "Act as If" day tomorrow.

And I'm going shopping for a Beamer.

That's right. I'm going window car shopping with my AP as part of the Six Month Experiment.

You can't get what you want out of life without a combination of planning, hard work and some seriously kick-ass visualization techniques. And if you can't have a little fun doing it, what's the point?

Now I have to admit that I originally found the thought of doing this mortifying.

If I lived in a big city like Chicago, I could care less about walking into a dealership and telling someone I want to "test drive your new BMW Convertible Cabriolet".

I'd take 'er for a spin, drop 'er back off and never be seen again.

But this place is like living in a fishbowl. I mean, if I can run into my son and his friends at the entrance to Carlos n' Murphy's on a Friday night, chances are...

So here I was, practically arguing with my AP about how I was, "Fine doing this as long as I can tell them it's part of the Experiment" while she is telling me, "If you do that, then you're missing the whole point! You're suppose to be acting as if. Telling them defeats the purpose. We don't have to tell them anything."

She finally agreed that I could tell them I was 'just looking.' However, it's one thing to tell that to a clerk at a shoe store and quite another to tell a finely tuned salesman at a pricey car dealership.

But the kicker is, I have to get behind the wheel of the damn thing in a showroom while my AP takes my picture for a dream board (our follow-up activity).

Now THAT should be interesting.

And it's not that I actually want a Beamer - though there is something enticing about the coupe's carbon-fiber roof, which keeps weight down to less than that of the M5 by about 100 pounds, or that seven-speed sequential manual gearbox which can pop off shifts in the blink of an eye -rather, it's getting comfortable with the idea that you deserve one.

Or for that matter, anything else that comes your way as a result of hard work and dedication. Enjoying the fruits of your labor is an art.

It's all about accepting success as part of your life. And when you're not accustomed to it, that can be a hard egg to crack no matter how much you think you deserve it or how hard you've worked for it.

A good AP knows these things about you.

So what does she do today? Buys me the Exotic Car Magazine Buyer's Guide 2010 with a Lamborghini on the front cover and says: Your BMW M6 is on p. 50.

Looks like we're going tomorrow.

But I know it's all for the best and part of my reintegration to an abundant frame of mind. And it's an absolutely essential part of the manifesting process. Because if you're not ready for it, you'll never be able to hang on to it.

In Success Principles Jack talks about a Come as you will be 5 years from now party he once attended as part of an exercise in visualization.

I realized that the people who had those dreams were just like me. And every single one of them who attended that celebratory bash as the best version of themselves, went on to achieve all they had pretended to that evening and more.

Every single one.

Including a duo of women who imagined they were best-selling authors but had not yet even written the outline for their book.

I don't know about you, but I find that inspiring. And I'm one step ahead.

So before I lay out how I'm going to up my game for the next 3 months, (two posts from now) I'm going to spend tomorrow plowing through some blocks by acting 'as if' everything I ever dreamed of being, doing, or having was currently possible in this, present moment.

After all, it's the only one that exists...

coming soon: Tales from a day As If

Deep Thoughts - taking stock and celebrating successes

Ever heard any Jack Handy quotes?

"I hope some animal never bores a hole in my head and lays its eggs in my brain, because later you might think you're having a good idea but it's just eggs hatching.”

Yep. That's what I'm talkin' about. Me n' Jack are on the same page.

Like maybe all these crazy ideas I've ever had in my life are because some weird creature from the insect kingdom decided to play hide the salami in my ear with its consort one starry night (when I had too many glasses of Merlot and couldn't feel anything) and its night of passion resulted in one egg too many making its way into my brain and leaning heavily on a nearby synapse, producing random firings in the wrong directions.

And chi-ching! Walla. I think I'll write a screenplay. Don't have a clue how, nor do I know what to do with it after, but I'll figure it out as I go a long!

Chi-ching! I think I'll write the LSAT and go to law school. Don't know how I'm going to work out living expenses but I'll figure it out as I go along!

Chi-ching! I think I'll move to another country for a guy who I know deep down inside can't commit to a dentist appointment, never mind a relationship. (whoa - that might be two synapses misfiring). Nevermind. I'll figure it out as I go along.

I've had so many misfirings I should be charged with possession of a faulty firearm.

And there are so many such examples in my life, it became a running joke in my dating profile:

Warning: I can't make a small decision to save my life (like what to order for dinner) but I make life-changing ones with great abandon. Marry me.

So perhaps what I think is a genius idea (and God help you if you try to talk me out of it) is just another synapse misfiring. The effect? I lack a little thing called long-term planning.

And that's why this book is going to work and the Six Month Experiment will be a success. I'm all out of synapses.

(Wait, that doesn't sound right).

Oh yeah, this time I have a plan. A long term, give-up-when-I-drop plan with a proven track record of success.

In spite of what felt like a slow month, the last three months were surprisingly productive once I really had a chance to review things.

Just goes to show you how important it is to track your progress and take note of all your mini-successes. If you don't, you risk giving up because you feel you can't see your progress when really, it's going down behind the scenes.

So at the risk of sounding like I'm tooting my own horn, (when normally no one would see this but me, but this bloody blog is like making one of those finger-cutting blood contracts with the universe), here goes...

In the last 3 months... in the categories of finances, career, recreation, health and fitness, personal relationships, personal development and contribution to society (and in no particular order):

Finances:

I'm subbing again full-time and my finances are improving - I'm taking care of bills. (Nowhere near where I want to be, but it's all good). I'm secure and pleased that I did not take a term teaching contract as this would have taken up too much of my time and energy and left nothing to focus on the bigger picture.

I bought a better car by doing business with someone I knew and trusted and with whom I could make affordable financial arrangements.

Career:

When I started this experiment, about 60% of the book was written. I finished the rest by working on it non-stop between July 26 and September 7. And I mean every single day sometimes for twelve hours.

I spent the following week perfecting my query letter and working on a good proposal. Within 10 days I had sent out 34 inquiries to various agencies requesting representation. Within two weeks I had an offer of representation.

I now have a literary agent.

I began to outline chapters of the next book and figured out a series. I am now tossing around ideas for a Romantic Comedy screenplay.

I bought two domain names with the intent of setting up a website. Met with a guy who had some ideas. That's still in the works, which reminds me - Roy, call me.

The blog and book got a plug on a radio show which is great for promotional purposes and support. Thank-you Indiana!

I now have a fan-based web page on facebook. Feel free to sign up. Thanks Ryan. :P)

Recreation:

Hmmm. Well... I haven't taken those surfing lessons yet or made it to Bali, but I have had some seriously intense laughing fits with my AP and played Kanasta with the family while drinking martinis.

Does that count? You're damn right it does, but I'm still going to expand on my 'funness'.

Health and Fitness:

I wanted to go to the gym three times a week. I am going 4-6 and have added strength training to my routine. (I still don't know what I'm doing but I'm trying!). I'm eating better (and that's improving still) but most of all, I feel great.

Personal Relationships:

Relations with the family members are always good (except my mom as she's having one of her hate spells but I have little control over that and we are after all, coming into Halloween so she's off the hook - no pun intended).

I've dated. One day very soon I'll have a blog entry on that without actually saying anything. Just observations. Let's just say I'm still single.

Let's just say I'm listening to my intuition more (and that's HUGE for me).

Anyway, I feel married to the blog for now (and this mission).

I've made some new connections that are conducive to my intent to mix it up with like-minded individuals on a path I like to call "no resistance manifestation". I love it. The more the merrier. There is no such thing as too much good energy. Hi V.

Personal Development:

I've consistently read books and articles that strive to maintain a positive frame of mind - most specifically, Jack's book on which I took notes and the Four-hour Work Week. I've begun to meditate (though it's sporadic) using auditory aids and sometimes mantras. I pulled out my Learning Spanish book and will complete it before the end of the experiment.

And this weekend - the Dream BOARD. Cant' wait. I'll tell you all about it later.

Contribution to Society:

My biggest contribution would be to make it so I can inspire people to do the same. As far as I'm concerned there is an endless supply of abundance for anyone willing to make a plan and give it their all.

So this category is still in the making...

But I'm doing my best to walk my talk. Hang in there with me.

October 18, 2009 - Where I’m at

The first three months was about waking up to your own potential.

The last three months is going to be about owning it.

In little more than a week, I will be at the mid-point of my Six Month Experiment. Almost time to take public stock of my progress.

And all I can think is: I was out of my frakkin’ mind going public with this Life Experiment.

This blog thing is like being in the mob. Once you’re in you can’t get out, ‘cause everybody knows the deal and everyone will know that if you ditch, it means you’re chickening out of a system you can’t handle (and I’m not about to be called ‘yella’ by anyone).

Besides, I set up this game in the first place. I have to abide by my own rules. Win or lose, I’m in for the long haul. It's a life change. (Sigh).

On the upside, there is something about being accountable that gets my adrenaline going. Brings out my competitive nature. On the other hand it could be my ego - maybe I just don’t want to be wrong.

And progress this month feels slow - at least externally - so I’m getting nervous. I have only three months to prove a point.

I don’t expect my life to turn around 180 degrees in six months, but I do expect to set enough of a foundation by then that whatever slips or setbacks I might have after that, will be negligible.

In other words, I’ll be well on my way to a new life, set in a new paradigm.

October’s progress has been difficult to gauge because it felt more like fall cleaning of the mental closet. It’s been more about kicking negative childhood doubts back to Neverland where they belong with Pan and his sycophant fantasy campers who spend their time daydreaming and avoiding reality.

Nobody likes someone who can’t walk their talk. Least of all, me.

And as much as we all want to get on with the business of making huge changes in our lives, old patterns have a nasty habit of jumping up and biting us in the backside when we least expect it.

And the closer we get to our goals, rumor has it, the more we get blasted by our own subconscious self-sabotaging mechanisms. You know, like blowing your chances on purpose because you can’t handle the thought that you might actually deserve something good in your life.

It’s ridiculous. But we all do it.

That’s been my cross this month. And I think I nailed it (no pun intended).

So I better make good on this, or I’m going to look like an idiot.

And on top of it...

As a Canadian I’m in the process of shedding eons of culturally condoned apologetic behaviour known for diminishing the significance of one’s abilities thus conveying an air of acceptance that says, if my ship comes in, it comes in, if it doesn’t it doesn’t - either way it’s okay.

It’s not okay.

It has to come in.

Because I say so.

Tomorrow - Tabulation station - a review of the Seven Principles of Success and my progress thus far.

Final Thoughts - What was it all about? Final Lessons from Indiana - Part VII

Well, here we are.

And life is good.

Matter of fact, it’s STELLAR.

It’s been just over two years since I left Indiana and almost three for Ryan.

I’d like to say I jumped back into life upon my return with renewed vim and vigour but lying is bad karma.

Besides, you don’t sleep on your parents’ living room sofa for eight months and not question what happened that put you in a position about as far removed from your prime earning potential as humanly possible.

You don’t return from playing ‘survival of the fittest’ for four years in another country to start a new life again in your old one with only a duffle bag of stuff to your name and think that what happened was okay or think you can just ‘pick up where you left off’.

It doesn’t work like that.

And no one in their right mind spends whatever remaining money they had left to ship completely useless law books home (because the thought of throwing them out was out of the question given the personal sacrifices made to learn what was in them even if it was a losing proposition) and remotely believe there was any purpose to anything they had ever done.

Nope.

You can’t go through all that and not spend time wondering how you failed so miserably when really all you did was follow the signs and follow through on everything.

I felt like the biggest loser on the planet.

And it wasn’t any easier for Ryan.

The problem was I always taught the boys that life had meaning. Regardless of whether circumstances pointed to Chaos as the underlying ‘order’of things.

I believed that we were directly responsible for the lot in our lives - whatever it may be - and that we existed as co-creators with ‘God’/The Universal Good (or at the very least, the rules of quantum physics).

And I still do. But maybe not in quite the same way.

At the time, I think Ryan believed me too - that’s why he was willing to stick it out the way he did.

He was certain that if he did his part, everything would fall into place (at least that was the theory).

He was so sure of his destiny that when he got injured in his senior year, he would sneak into Ames Field in the middle of the night to have a heart-to-heart with the Big Guy and ask him to get on with the business of healing him because he "had things to do" and the game wasn’t over yet.

After all there was a little thing called FREE WILL and as far as we were both concerned we had chosen wisely because we had followed the SIGNS left by God himself.

How could the Universe not support us all the way?

Does God want me to be here? Sure he does. I ended up in law school because I happened to pull weeds for a law professor. I got a job in Chicago because I happened to take a comedy writing class with a writer who inadvertently ‘hooked me up’ with a job. I got another job with a couple I used to serve at a restaurant. And every time it looked like the chips were down, some wonderful friend, citizen or pure stranger stepped in to offer their support, or their home, or their undying faith in Ryan's destiny.

So we kept at it.

We kept at it until we had both painted ourselves into a corner with no way out but North.

And here we are.

After recovering psychologically for almost a year, I took a good look in the spiritual mirror and asked myself:

“Does everything happen for a reason? Really?”

And I discovered the answer was a little different than what I originally thought it was, as I came to the conclusion that:

EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON IF YOU WANT IT TO

And it does to me.

Because that’s what gives me hope and faith and reason.

I choose to believe that everything happens for a reason the same way I choose how I respond to every obstacle, setback, and shitty day that comes across my path - I get up again.

And again. And again. And again.

And I choose to view it as an opportunity for learning. An opportunity for growth. An opportunity to dig deeper and work on my character.

Ya gotta love Free Will.

Free Will gives you the opportunity to become a better human being.

And if I choose to view it that way, then it must be true.

I think, therefore I am. - Rene Descartes.

It’s all in your head.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

It’s all in there.

Ryan took his experience and said, “I guess I’m going to give ‘er in school now”.

When he got burned out and thought he was due for a change of scenery to shift his perspective he said:

“I think I need a break. And I’ve always wanted to go to Greece.”

So he did.

As for me?

Well, I’ll fill you in on that next time... welcome to the mid-point of my Six Month Experiment...
-----

PART VI - Post Script and Lessons learned?

Even though I knew it was over, I refused to believe it.

I called Indiana State more times than I care to remember, trying to talk to somebody - anybody - I thought might have enough foresight to see reason through this stupid decision that amounted to no more than some pencil-pushing wannabe committee exec who thought he was ‘just doing his (or her) job’.

I never did find out who it was that had gotten everyone’s panties in a twist over some policy they likely created themselves. And I bet they never encountered a case like Ryan’s so the policy was open to interpretation.

I had been around long enough to know these things are malleable. Policies, like the law, have grey areas that can be argued based on the unique circumstances of every individual case - especially when there’s new territory involved.

Of course the track coach was on our side. He wanted Ryan. But his hands were tied.

They took it to a committee who reviewed it.

I waited in a coffee shop patiently for their decision. I just couldn’t sit still at home.

By this time I knew it was in God’s hands, or The Goddess Fortuna’s, or the Fates or some pantheon of Gods who were playing with us like puppets on a string out of sheer boredom because their lives were dull in comparison - such is the lot of Eternally Perfect Beings. I was finally convinced that we humans were like some bad reality TV series of their own creation.

And then the call came.

The committee exec yahoo, wasn’t budging. It was a close vote. Close, but no cigar. And that meant no in-state tuition.

That was a hard Christmas.

I drove home to see family, while Ryan stayed back in Michigan City to spend time with the people he had grown to love and say his good-byes.

He took a chunk of his money and enjoyed himself. After a lot of sacrifices, he figured he had earned the right to go out a little and buy Xmas presents for family and friends.

And he was right.

The anonymous donors who had generously offered their help with tuition were told their money was no longer needed.

And finally, Ryan started to relax and accept the cards fate had dealt him. After all, he had no choice.

When I came back from holidays, Ryan and I spent a little time together before he packed his bags to take the train home. School had started up again for me, and I requested a day off classes to take him to the Amtrak station in Chicago.

I won’t get into the good-byes as nothing at that point made much sense to me, including staying in law school, but in spite of our experiences, I was struggling to discover a higher purpose and maybe my own destiny in all of this.

And true to my family’s nature, I had everyone’s support to go for it anyway. After all, one success story - no matter who achieves it first - has a domino effect on everyone else.

I told myself it was my duty to honor the privilege that scholarship had afforded me. At the very least, I would give it a few months and my best shot.

.....

True to form, Ryan had also begun to formulate a new plan.

Maybe he couldn’t play college ball in the U.S. but he had enough money to pay for his own tuition back in Canada (at the University of Manitoba) for January classes and start spring training for the Bisons, our U of M football team.

He also knew the training he had undergone in the U.S. (both in high school and with Eric) was far better than anything they had ever witnesses up here. Hope sprang eternal once again.

Unfortunately, (and unbeknownst to him), his U of M entrance application (that he had started earlier as part of a back-up plan) had lapsed because he thought he was going to be attending Indiana State.

Once again, the Wheel of Fortune took a turn for the worst.

He would have to wait another semester to start school.

Ryan took the rest of his money, pitched in for rent, (he was now staying with his brothers) and vowed to start studying anyway so he could prepare for the tough academic program our university is known for.

Then, about a week and a half into the first semester of school...

I was sitting in the law library trying to wrap my head around Constitutional Law, when I got a call from the coach at Indiana State.

“Hi, is this Nicole Alexander, Ryan’s mom?”

“Yes it is,” I said as I walked into the hallway so as not to disturb others.

“This is coach ____ from Indiana State. We made a mistake. Ryan is entitled to in-state tuition. Can he come back?”

I was dumbfounded.

But moreover, I knew we were screwed.

Not only had the church donors been told their contributions were no longer required, but Ryan had spent most of what he had saved on Christmas, getting back home, and now on rent.

Ryan no longer had the $6,000 he needed for tuition.

And by the time he got organized and took either the bus or the train back, he would be at least a dozen days behind in his school work if not more. That’s a tough way to start the semester.

But the reality was, now the finances were missing.

And furthermore, I could tell in Ryan’s voice with each phone call he had nothing left to give.

After 3 1/2 years of givin’ ‘er, he was now in the process of healing.

But I called Ryan anyway.

When I told him what had happened there was a long silence at his end and then out came the words I had been anticipating.

He knew where he stood financially and their screw up had cost him whatever last chance he had had to play college ball in the U.S.

“Tell them to go f*** themselves.”

------

I went on to finish my semester at law school. Ryan held his own, reconnecting with his brothers in a big way and preparing for spring training, knowing he would be taking summer classes.

He joined the team and started training.

Then on the last practice before the first game of the season, Ryan’s foot got stuck in a divot that should never have existed if their practice field had only been properly maintained.

Unfortunately, it happened to get stuck just as a lineman plowed him down.

Ryan fell back but his foot held fast.

We later discovered he had broken his sesamoid bone into six pieces. It was a rare injury. And then we were told it would probably never heal.

That year, his team, the U of M Bisons, won the National Championship, travelling all across Canada to compete against every other college football team.

It was a helluva victory. And he wasn’t a part of it.Some of his teammates have since gone on to play in the CFL.

It would be almost two years (after exhausting every other possibility of healing it by natural means) before Ryan found a doctor who could perform the radical surgery he required - to remove the sesamoid bone completely from his foot piece by piece and not replace it with anything.

There was a chance the tendon would snap as a result and he would be back under the knife again to repair another injury.

His body is currently in the process of healing.

After three months it’s still sore as hell, but we’re hoping it’s just a matter of time.

At this point, Ryan’s greatest concern is to be able to participate in sports again as a lifestyle for the rest of his life - not to play football. That career is over.

-----

As for me, I finished second semester much more confidently than the first one as some of the worry was now behind me and I had become accustomed to the nature of my studies.

But because final grades had not yet been determined, I was given a grant to take a summer course while tabulations took place to determine my scholarship standing.

I did well in my second semester.

Even better in my summer class.

But by July my overall grades were determined to fall just below the 3.0 GPA I needed. First semester had killed me.

I lost my scholarship.

Bu there were no tears for me.

For some reason, I felt nothing but relief.

When I signed the papers, releasing my course selection for the following year and officially stating I was dropping out, I went around to my professors and thanked them all for one hell of a year with a big smile on my face.

I too, was going home.

Law school had been quite an experience. I met some great people, travelled to New Orleans where I volunteered with other students in the Public Defender’s office during spring break, went to Yale law school for a weekend conference on rebellious lawyering and realized there were some amazing people who lived in this world attempting to make a significant difference in spite of the severe odds against them.

I thought I was going to be one of them. But once again, maybe God had something else in mind.

It was time for me to go home.

-------

I spent a couple of extra weeks in Indiana that summer before leaving, spending time with a good friend I had made while there who taught me how to fish.

It was the first time in four years I had truly unwound.

When I got back home, I spent 8 months sleeping on my dad's sofa before I had enough money to move out on my own. I bought an old car, worked for my brother for a while then slowly, got back into teaching.

Then in January of this year, I started writing a book. I finished it on labor day. And I have recently secured a literary agent in Toronto who has high hopes to sell it to a publisher this November.

Yep. Things are looking up.

Meanwhile, Ryan turned into quite an academic. He was able to match whatever energies he had poured into football into his studies.

By the end of his first year of school, he had applied for a significant scholarship and got it based on both his academic and athletic aptitude.

Now he’s doing an honors program in Comparative Religion and studying Ancient Greek for the purposes of translating ancient religious texts.

I still think he chose that course of study as a way to understand the cosmos and find meaning in what otherwise appears as having no rhyme or reason, but at this point he would disagree with me vehemently and tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about.

Does everything happen for a reason?

I still think it does. But I don’t know for sure. Because I still can't wrap my head around what happened in Indiana.

In the end, I’m not sure it even matters. All I know is we all had to be together again and I wouldn't have it any other way.

NEXT - PART VII - Final thoughts - What was it all about? and the Six Month Experiment.

Lessons from Indiana PART V- The Wheel of Fortune

Welcome to the Wheel of Fortune! La Rota Fortuna

Where game show contestants (human beings in the game of life) compete to see who wins and who loses - except they don’t really compete, they just think they do.

Because they are subject to the random acts of one finicky woman - the Goddess Fortuna. Move over Vanna White.

According to wiki, The Wheel of Fortune was a concept begun in medieval and ancient philosophy referring to the capricious nature of Fate.

The wheel belongs to the Roman goddess Fortuna, who spins it at random, changing the positions of those on the wheel whenever she feels like it - some suffer great misfortune, others gain windfalls. Even the Christian philosopher Boethius wrote about it in a famous text stating:

I know how Fortune is ever most friendly and alluring to those whom she strives to deceive, until she overwhelms them with grief beyond bearing, by deserting them when least expected …

... and then he goes on to explain how there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it - and only idiots try to control it.

Here’s how a tempestuous Fortuna played with our lives over the next year...

Indiana State wanted Ryan for track starting in January.

The wheel goes up.

But they had no scholarship money left. He had to pay for the semester himself if he wanted to attend - to the tune of over $6,000.

The wheel goes down.

But if Ryan joins the track team (especially the long jump event because he went to state for that), they promise him a full scholarship for the following year.

The wheel goes up.

Although he was working, he was still short by half and can’t get a loan because he’s not an American. I can’t get a loan because I’m in law school full-time.

The wheel goes down.

Then when all hope seems lost, he is informed that anonymous donors from his church are prepared to cover the rest. (Bless their hearts).

The wheel goes up.

I finish my first semester of law school stressed to the nines and exhausted from worry, school and work. With final exams comprising 100% of my grade, the only thing I’m positive of is that I will finish this semester below the average I need to keep my scholarship. But I don’t care - I’ll have another term to pull up my grades.

All I want to know right now is that my kid will be in school this January and will finally get his shot.

The day after my last final, we take the drive down to Indiana State.

They show us around campus. We meet the track coach and the academic advisor. They promise Ryan a job so he can make a little pocket money. They sign him up for classes. It’s all good.

Then we happen to walk by the football coach’s office where we pop in to say hi. The advisor is about to introduce Ryan when the coach looks up with a look of sudden recognition and says:

“You’re Ryan Fics.”

“Yes sir, I am” Ryan replies and shakes his hand.

“Ryan is going to join our track team” says the advisor to the coach.

“Is that right?” replies the coach and smiles, while looking at Ryan.

Ryan just smiles back at him.

“Well, that’s great.” He says, while adding, “You had a helluva year in football.”

“Thank-you sir.”

They both knew the deal.

Ryan would indeed be running track - or whatever else it is they wanted him to do - but as sure as I’m writing this blog, that kid had every intention of walking onto that football field and blowing them away by showing them what he could do.

He was going to try out and was determined to be their first string RB by the end of the season if it killed him. He had never stopped training for it.

It was going down.

The Wheel of Fortune is still up.

We drove home on Cloud 9.

There are no words to describe the satisfaction (and relief) we felt, knowing with perseverance, after 3 years, things were finally falling into place.

And then one hour into the drive home, I got the phone call.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but... we made a mistake. Because Ryan is not an American citizen, his tuition is 18,000 not 6,000.”

Say what???

I turned to look at Ryan and he knew instantly something was terribly wrong. I turned my attention back to the phone.

“But he graduated from a high school in Indiana. The policy says that in-state tuition fees apply.”

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do.”

.....

Turning to Ryan and telling him, was one of the hardest things I have ever done.

The Wheel of Fortune went down. And it was staying there.

The first time I saw Ryan fall apart was when we had nowhere to live and no idea how we were going to survive but he decided to come back and give it a shot anyway.

The second time I saw him fall apart was after the North-South All star game because he never got a chance to prove himself when it counted most.

The third time was in that car.

I have never, ever, sworn so much in my life, nor taken the Lord’s name in vain with such vehemence and unrelenting anger as I did at that moment.

But Ryan was silent.

He was silent because he was busy crying in a stream of tears that never seemed to end, as I am doing now while reliving the god damn memory of it all once again.

He was silent because in that moment, the efforts of the last three and a half years came crashing down around him like a glass house in an earthquake.

It had finally all proved to be too much.

To this day, there was not a single, solitary thing either of us could think of that we might have done differently to secure a different result.

We had left no stone unturned in the process over three and a half years.

He never slacked once in his effort to make it, and I never slacked once in my efforts to keep us there and alive long enough for him to get what he truly deserved.

Not a single thing.

After I had gotten a healthy dose of swearing out of my system, the true sadness of the situation began to sink in. When Ryan finally spoke, his words cut like a knife, yet I knew he had no alternative...

“I’m going home.”

NEXT - PART VI - post script and lessons learned....

PART IV - The Unravelling of a Dream

It had been an unbelievable football season.

True to what he had predicted in a pre-season interview, Ryan went on to break numerous records, one of which was running over 2,000 yards in his senior year.

He just knew it was his time. He was ready and he delivered.

Yep. It had been one incredible ride. And all of Michigan City was there to watch and support a phenomenal season of high school football.

When the season ended, we figured there had been enough talk, interviews, stats, (ie; proof) of his proficiency on the field, that some college somewhere would want him as their running back - or at least make him second or third string and give him a chance to prove himself.

He was even on the University of Miami's recruiting roster. Surely someone would be pleased to have a running back of his calibre on their team. Even the paper had stated he had outperformed James Alridge and he was going to Notre Dame on a full scholarship.

Surely someone would pick him up.

Somebody.

Anybody?

Hmmm.

But nothing happened.

He attended recruiting visits with his buddies, we drove to numerous colleges to talk to coaches and check out programs, we made phone calls, sent out information.

And although being chosen to play on the North v South game was a rare opportunity for him to shine one last time with scouts in the stands, well... one or two short plays in four quarters ain't gonna get you noticed.

There were too many running backs to showcase and Ryan never got his day in the sun.

He had so much loving support in the stands that day it was overwhelming. It was a long haul to Indy and the heat was unbearable but no one complained as we were all unified in our belief in him and were there to watch Ryan do what he did best - perform.

But he never got the chance.

I'll never forget sitting around the parking lot afterwards. It was the polar opposite of the festive air we had all been feeling for days prior to that game.

Now, everyone was dead quiet because everybody knew.

That was it.

As we tried to pass along half-hearted words of encouragement, Ryan said what we had all been feeling:

"It's over".

And he broke down. Badly.

It was like in an instant all of his dreams were becoming nothing but memories.

Surely someone, would still pick him up.

Somebody.

Anybody?

Hmmm.

When nothing happened, I took matters into my own hands. I wrote cover letters to every coach in the midwest filled with stats and sent a DVD along just so they could see for themselves.

The only response I got back was from Coach Weiss at Notre Dame. "We cannot offer Ryan a scholarship, but if he decides to attend Notre Dame, I promise he can try out for the football team."

If only I'd had 25,000 for tuition, he'd be playing for them today, I guarantee it.

But I didn't. And there was no way to get a loan.

Back to the drawing board.

Hmmm.

When school drew to a close, Ryan graduated along with everyone else and watched as his friends, one by one left for college. Almost everyone (at least everyone that chose to go) left - except for him.

And suddenly he was faced with another choice.

He could either stay and work to save enough money for tuition and walk on the damn field somewhere one year from now and prove his worth, or go home.

He decided to stay.

But I could no longer support him. As it turns out my huge law school scholarship of almost 90,000 didn't come with a stipend. That was for books and tuition alone over a three year period. I still had to survive while attending school. And there was another catch.

If I fell below a 3.0 GPA in my first year, I would lose the whole thing.

Now I'm used to getting A's in college, but I hadn't been in school in ten years. And this was first year law - it has a notorious reputation for being brutal.

But I had other worries on my mind. Too many to count. Once again, there was too much at stake.

And once again, we took up the challenge but had to disperse for financial reasons.

We each stayed with a separate group of friends.

I got a job in the computer lab in the law library while Ryan worked construction. And we both worked at the same restaurant on weekends. I was a server, he was a bus boy. It was really the only time we had to connect.

But it was a far cry from what he imagined he would be doing in the fall of his first year after high school. He was also exhausted and demoralized. And so was I.

Then, somewhere in October, he got a call from Indiana State - they wanted him for track. Now, they couldn't offer him a scholarship either, but if he could pay for one semester of tuition, (which started in January) they were prepared to guarantee him a full scholarship the following year.

All he needed was about six grand.

Yes indeed... things were looking up.

NEXT - PART V - The Wheel of Fortune

October 7, 2009 - Lessons from Indiana and givin ‘er for the last time.

First there was givin ‘er.

Then there was givin ‘er one more time.

Now there’s givin ‘er for the last time.

Next time, it’ll be given ‘er just one more time followed by givin’ ‘er for the REALLY last time.

And finally:

Always givin’ er.

‘Cause I guess that’s what it comes down to.

As I was rereading the last two blog entries to ensure I wasn’t whining about what went down in Indiana, I realized there was something I needed to clarify:

Ours is not a hard luck story.

I’m sure after reading the next couple of entries some of you will be thinking, what the hell is she talking about? And I won’t even tell you about the early life my boys and I endured living with their father who remained an undiagnosed (and violent), paranoid schizophrenic. Some things are just better left in the past.

And don’t bother asking Ryan about it. He’ll just shake his head and say, ‘it doesn’t matter anymore.’ Because the truth is - it doesn’t. But it does impact how you view all of your experiences forever after. It’s all relative.

So like I said, ours is not a hard luck story.

And the only reason I mention the above is because anytime any one of us (me, Ryan or his two brothers) thought we were gonna crack when things got too tough to handle, we would look at each other with that knowing because we understood each other the way war veterans do - silently and with connected memories no one but us could possibly fathom.

Then someone would invariably pipe up and say:

“We survived the old man. Seriously. This is a joke compared to that.”

And suddenly whoever was feeling overwhelmed by life actually chuckled, because they remembered, the worst really was over.

And it was time to give ‘er just one more time.

That’s what we used to remind ourselves back in Indiana when things weren’t looking so good for a scholarship - This is a joke compared to that.

Like I said before this is not a hard luck story.

It’s about making a conscious choice, givin’ it your best shot and having no regrets.

NEXT - PART IV - The Unravelling of a Dream

Life lessons from Indiana and givin’ er just one more time - PART II

Get outta the way. I am coming through.

That’s what the next two years felt like.

It took quite a few months before we were finally situated in our own place.

Like I said before, we relied on the kindness of others for a roof over our heads. To them all, I will forever be grateful.

In the meantime, I started cleaning houses wherever I could, and doing yard work for a law professor in Valpo who found every blade of grass that grew between the pebbles that surrounded her rose bushes particularly annoying.

It was my job to get rid of them.

If just so happens she was the soon-to-be new wife of my now ex-boyfriend’s sister’s boss’s ex-husband. (If you can wrap your head around that).

That’s how I got the job. And she took a liking to me. I did everything from house-sit for her to clean her home and garden.

The Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways. But then again, I always thought everything happens for a reason.

I guess I did a good job because after a week of feeling more like a manicurist than a gardener, we sat down to have a little chat.

After hearing my story, she told me I was “overqualified” for my gardening duties and suggested I apply for law school instead.

“Law what?”

“I’m serious. With your previous grades and your life experience, you’re in a good demographic to secure a full scholarship. All you have to do is write a good LSAT.”

Well that’s just a dandy idea, I thought, wondering if I should hug her for suggesting it or tell her she was out of her frakkin’ mind.

“Just think about.” She said.

There was only one problem. I had missed the deadline for application and would have to wait a year to get in - providing of course, I wrote a stellar LSAT. Which is a bitch of an idea in itself since I could barely think straight enough to get through the day, let alone focus on one of the hardest entrance exams on the planet.

But, what the hell. I had nothin' to lose.

I needed a full scholarship and a student visa to keep Ryan here long enough to get him through high school.

Getting a decent job was almost impossible - I needed a visa for that too. And they were handing those out about as often as Bush said, “terrorist activity is way overrated”. Like NEVER.

As for my Education degree? It was useless - a school would have to sponsor me if I wanted to teach in the U.S. And we all know the education budget is as likely to factor in that $3,000 expense as they are to provide a surf n’ turf menu option in the school cafeteria.

Looks like I’m writing the LSAT.

No pressure.

In the meantime, Ryan was entering his Junior year with the resolve of a kid who bore his own version of unreasonable pressure. There were days he felt the way a kid in kindergarten might feel if you told him to explain Einstein’s theory of Relativity and if he failed to do it, he’d never get recess again for the rest of his life.

But he handled it like a champ, because nobody... and I mean NOBODY, wanted it more badly than Ryan.

After a sophomore year learning what all those damn squiggles and lines meant in his play book (he’d never played football before in his life), Ryan was starting to feel his way around the football field with the confidence of someone who was starting to sense the same potential in himself the way God might see in all of us - with unlimited possibilities and unshakeable confidence.

Sure, he might never have played football before and “hut” to him meant a place people lived in a 3rd world country, but I swear, at the same age most babies were learning to walk, he was mastering the triple jump - that’s how coordinated he was.

It was no coincidence that the first time he was sent into the field during his sophomore year, when he got hold of the ball, he ran for a touchdown. The fact that it was called back was irrelevant because Providence had already cracked the door open just enough to reveal what he was capable of.

The tone was set.

The truth of the matter was things behind the scenes were anything but stable.

Finding a way to stay would require a miraculous sequence of events.

But just as the Universe sets us up with what can only be explained as spiritual tests of character, it also plants helpers along the way to see us through.

I was fortunate to have made a friend a year prior when I was enrolled in the Second City Sketch Comedy writing program in Chicago (before the bottom fell out of my life).

L was a freelance writer. When she got swamped with more work than she wanted, (and knowing the pickle I was in), she started to siphon the odd job my way. I became like a ‘ghost writer’ But then again, even a real writer doesn’t get credit when the gig is grade four Social Studies (although I sure know a lot more about the gold rush in California now).

Eventually I wrote some articles on Martin Luther King for another development house. The pay wasn’t very good, but it garnered enough respect to get me an in-house job offer with the same outfit a few weeks later.

Things were looking up.

Now I could properly support myself and Ryan, and secure a visa to stick around. Maybe even get an apartment.

The daily four hour commute was not my favourite way to spend idle time, but when my car became unreliable, I rode the South Shore into the city and wore a hat I could pull down over my eyes at 5 am. I got on the train early enough to secure a seat by a window where I could lean my head. My morning snooze was down to a science.

We got our own place, I bought a better car... but just when I thought things were stabilizing:

I lost my job the day before Ryan’s first game in his Senior year.

Like I've said before, sometimes s*** just happens.

In the meantime, after a few months of study, I had indeed written the LSAT and done well on it. But had to wait yet another year to get into law school.

I felt positively cursed. My application had been incomplete because the law school never received the transcript from my old college.

I found out later, the transfer had been withheld due to some $135 in unpaid campus parking tickets. Just another oversight of the ex husband who refused to take care of his own carelessness 5 years back when using a car that was registered in my name.

Unfortunately, it cost me a year of waiting for law school. All their scholarship monies had been dispensed while the registrar’s office was patiently waiting for my papers to arrive.

I was too late.

That’s when I started waitressing. I was grateful for whatever shifts I could get, but I have to admit my first paycheck of $37 just didn’t sit well with me. No offense to the owners - they were great - but I came from a place that paid servers the same as anybody else making minimum wage - I should know, I raised my kids on it.

These days, in our neck of the woods, servers are making almost nine bucks an hour plus tips. And my first few weeks of making tips in Indiana weren’t cutting it - even when the wage was $2.15 an hour, and not $2.13 (as another server cheerily reminded me Appleby’s paid their staff). Holy crap.

Yep, things were looking up alright.

But Ryan was flying on the field, and I was having the time of my life as a football mom.

And there is something to be said for believing that the Universe has a destiny for everyone. So I firmly held to the belief that if we were meant to be there, things were going to work out.

God just doesn’t give someone that kind of talent and then take away their opportunity to shine - especially when they acknowledge every opportunity to play as a blessing.

Without fail, Ryan said his Game Day Prayer every Friday night, asking God to protect the entire team from injury and see them through another ‘best effort’ game.

And sure enough, they did.

In the meantime, through circumstances that can only be described as serendipitous, I secured another job - this time with a trucking company. I stayed with them for a year. Long enough to get Ryan through his Senior year of high school.

But in spite of a football season that can only be described as magical, our struggle began spiralling out of control...

NEXT - PART III - Lessons from Indiana and givin’ er one LAST time

October 3, 2009 - Kicking your shadows, lessons from Indiana and givin’ er just one more time - PART I

When I asked my grade seven class last year how many of them were certain of God’s existence, a few hands went up.

When I asked how many of them tried to bargain favors from God such as “If you get me out of trouble at school, I promise I will NEVER swear again” every single hand went up.

Because we all want to believe that someone who is suppose to have that much power has got our back when we really need it. But if they don’t - for whatever reason - you still have to be okay with it.

In the end, it just doesn’t matter - you gotta go for it anyway.

Kicking shadows is all about figuring out what’s holding you back and then lambasting those negative patterns in the gonads and getting on with life - regardless of what it throws at you.

It’s about finding out the stuff you’re really made of, accessing your core and using it to create an authenticity that cannot be shaken under any circumstances - even those beyond your control.

‘Cuz sometimes, s*** just happens.

Yes, this month is about removing those sinister blocks of self-doubt that plague all human beings (especially when you’ve experienced investing all of your energy into one thing or another - over and over and over again - and it never works out).

I mean, how many times can you give ‘er?

LOTS

Because in the end, it always works out. Just not necessarily the way you imagined.

Just ask any kid who had a stellar high school football career, yet no one picked him up for college because he was “too short” (even though he could bench press more than most guys bigger than him and run the field like he was wearing roller blades).

And when he finally does get to play for a college team (with no scholarship and not for who he imagined), he breaks his foot in the first week of practice. Game over.

Like I said, sometimes, s*** just happens...

...or does it?

I moved to Michigan City, Indiana for love. After a total two year investment, he still couldn't decide whether he wanted me around or not. And that wasn't good enough for me anymore. So I left.

When it didn’t work out, I was broken. I had sacrificed everything to move down there.

I was now also jobless, broke, homeless and had no idea how I was going to make it work. But I had to.

Because my kid was the running back for the Michigan City High School football team.

In our first year in Indiana, Ryan proved to be a real asset, taking me and the whole town along for the joyous roller coaster ride affectionately known as Friday Night Lights.

I lived for those games.

There’s no feeling quite like watching your kid run a 98 yard touchdown and watch as everyone in the stands goes crazy.

Or ask yourself with amazement what kind of angel floats him through a game to the tune of six touchdowns in one of the toughest conferences in the Midwest.

You see… football had chosen Ryan.

And in Indiana, Hoosiers love football the way a Baptist preacher loves God - with unparalleled enthusiasm. And by association, they love the athlete who gives their team hope.

And they loved Ryan. Everywhere he went, people would shake his hand, and comment on his last game. The stands were full, people were having a good time and suddenly there was a lot at stake.

Whether moving to the states was a poor decision or not, the momentum was building. A college scholarship was a real possibility. An opportunity that comes maybe once in a lifetime was readying itself for proper delivery in just two years. All we had to do was hang in there and survive.

Easier said than done.

Because we were broken. You know that dark night of the soul I talked about in the last couple of entries? This was one of deepest and darkest for both of us. I don’t think anyone knew just how bad, except maybe the blessed souls that took us into their homes that first year while I sorted things out.

But it was one phone call that decided it - come hell or high water, we were going to stick it out.

Ryan was back in Canada visiting family for a couple of weeks and I was staying in Chicago with a friend.

I’ll never forget calling him from her porch and hearing his voice crack with worry. And he was sobbing, though he didn’t want me to know. I could hear his brothers in the background swearing that enough was enough! and it was time to come home.

But this wasn’t their dream, it was his.

“The decision is yours Ryan. But before you make up your mind, take a step back and ask yourself: When I’m eighty and look back at this time in my life, will I have any regrets? Can I live with what if...?

After a long, silent pause he said, “F*** it. I’m coming back.”

“Okay then.”

I hung up the phone and fell apart.

It was now my job to find a way for us to survive.

NEXT PART II: Kicking your shadows, lessons from Indiana and givin’ er just one more time - law school