:Keys:

My name is Sam, and I have actually only done this once.

It was a complete "brain fart", as they say. I had been driving since three in the morning, on my way back to Alberta from Kelowna for my then-fiancee's (now wife) graduation from college. I was in Banff, Alberta, fueling up my little, red Dodge Colt for the second leg of the journey.

At the time, in typical late-nineties/early 2000's fashion (even though it was by now the mid-2000's), I kept my keys on a lanyard. It was an easy way for me to keep track of them, with what essentially amounted to a bright red ribbon hanging off of them. 

But one thing you need to know about me: I am anal when it comes to my keys, wallet, phone, etc. I always put them back in the same spot...they never leave my hand if they aren't either in my pocket, the ignition, or that spot...and I never ever lock my house or car without first checking that I've got my keys in my hand.

So, I got out of my car, started pumping gas, and went inside to pay (unlike in BC, Alberta still allowed post-pay at some places, rather than always being pre-pay). When I came out and attempted to get into my car, I found it locked.

No problem, self! I thought, reaching into my pocket for my keys. I'll have us out of here in a jiffy! (Though, why I was talking as if my self was several different people, and why one of them used the word 'jiffy' is still a mystery to me). But then, these thoughts were quickly followed by: Oh, no, self! We have a BIG problem!, along with all the heart-dropping-to-your-feet, stomach-roiling-like-a-hurricane sensations a roller coaster fanatic could ask for (please note: none of the aforementioned 'selves' are roller coaster fanatics).

For you see, unbeknownst to me until this moment, this particular time, I had failed to check that my keys were in my hands before locking the door. They were, therefore, hanging cheerily from my ignition without a care in the world, waiting for me patiently. They weren't in any hurry.

So I ran back into the kiosk, and asked the attendant if he had a slim jim or a coat hanger I could use to jimmy my lock...he had neither. So he directed me to the phone number for the only towing company in town.

Now, the thing is, when you are the only company who provides a service in a particular town, and the town in question is the only town for miles and miles in any direction, you can charge whatever you want for the services you offer. When I called the towing company, I expected the price it currently cost  to pop a lock in Kelowna, which was about $40 (I knew this because I worked at a dealership in town...not because this had happened before). As much as I hated the idea of spending $40 I didn't really have on something like this, it had to be done.

When the trucker arrived, he took out a small wedge (it looked like a door stop), shoved it between my window and the rubber seal, slipped a slim jim into the gap, popped the lock, and began writing up the invoice for his services.

Yes, it was that fast. I'm pretty sure you can't read that sentence faster than he popped the lock.

When he handed me the invoice, I just about fell over backwards.

$70.

Yes, $70 for thirty seconds of work. I'm in the wrong business.

I paid him (obviously), and went on my way. Needless to say, I haven't made that same mistake ever again since that day.

And I've since then always carried a spare, just on the off-chance...

My name is Sam, and I have actually only done this once. Thank goodness.

:Brave:

My name is Sam, and as I've said before, I may *sometimes* have a hard time working up the courage to say the things that need to be said.

The above could literally be true of me, were I to actually have a crush that I was interested in calling up to ask out on a date.

Of course, once upon a time, I did. Have a crush, that is. And yes, I had to work up the courage to tell her I liked her (which is a story I've already told here)... And I may have had to work up the courage for a couple other things, as well.

Like actually starting to date her. You see, once I had told (my now wife) that I liked her, I left the conversation at that. We went back to the coffee shop, and played a game of cards with a friend.

It was the week after by the time I finally realized that I should probably do something about this newfound affirmation that she liked me as well. So there ensued another (this time not quite so painfully cold or drawn-out) conversation on the subject of "now what?" (It took me some time to work up the guts to suggest anything).

But that wasn't the last time it took me a while to muster up the gumption to actually say or do something important.

Like the first time I held hands with my wife. We had been dating for a little while, and I was nervous somehow that I would still scare her off. We went on several walks a week, just to talk and get off campus and hang out for a while. On one of these walks, it took me almost an hour (the end of our walk) to finally just reach over and grab her hand. Apparently, I didn't scare her off!

Or the time I finally decided to tell her I loved her for the first time. I may have fumbled through this conversation even more so than the first one when I told her I liked her. And by "May have", I mean I definitely did. Even when I finally "got up the courage", what came out was: "Uh, so I think I....uh....might uh....know.....this guy....um...who kinda...well,...he might just...love you"

Ouch.

Yup, that's me. The king of romantic speech.

Which is funny, because I'm usually pretty good with my words. I guess it's just tough when it holds so much weight.

I mean, I still remember the first (and close to only) time (while still living at home) that I ever called my parents to task on something. It scared the spit out of me. And it took me forever to work up the courage to do. Not because my parents are scary people (or my wife, either, for that matter...)... But just because I have a tough time with this stuff.

Thankfully, I DID have the courage to tell my crush I liked her...and ask her out on a date... And hold her hand... And tell her I loved her... And ask her to marry me (which actually seemed easier at the time than the first few steps had seemed)...and here we are, 5 1/2 years later.

Now it's just a matter of working up the courage to ask someone to babysit our kids so we can have an evening alone from time to time... :-)

My name is Sam, and as I've said before, I may *sometimes* have a hard time working up the courage to say the things that need to be said.

:Time:

My name is Sam, and sometimes, I feel like this.

Really, haven't we all? In fact, I'd be willing to venture a guess that most of us feel this way almost all the time. Before you go arguing with me in your head (or out loud--you really, really, should hold off on arguing with me out loud), think about this with me:

Have you ever, after eight hours of sleep, said to someone (or even to yourself) "I'm still exhausted"?

Have you ever double-booked yourself?

Have you ever had to cancel plans?

Have you ever written out a to-do list?

Have you ever completed said to-do list?

Have you ever complained about how busy you are?

Have you ever said the words: "I need a vacation"?

And on and on and on and on... I don't think that any one of those things by themselves necessarily constitutes being pulled in too many directions, but I'm also fairly certain we've all said many of them at the same time.

But this is my (and many other people's) quandary: we just get so darned busy. There are too many good things, too many interesting events or groups or organizations to be a part of, and there's just not enough time in the day (or week...or month) to accomplish it all or be present (really present) for any of it.

I mean, take me, for example (since I'm not doing an exposé on anyone else, here...). I work 50-55 hours a week at one job, and 10-15/week and another, depending on the time of year. I have a wife and two kids, who I try desperately to be involved with, and extended family and friends to try and remain connected to as well. With all this comes a desire to pursue my interests (writing, reading, photography, etc.), as well as supporting my wife and children as they pursue theirs. Add housework, maintenance, and trying to be a nice guy and help out family and friends from time to time, and there are a lot of things placing demands (real and imagined) on my time. 

Now, I'm not saying that I've necessarily got it bad (who am I to say whether or not you've got it worse?), but I will say this:

In high school, I used to think I had no time to do things.

In college, I realized that I wished I had the kind of time I had in high school...and thought that now, I had no time to do things.

Once I got married, I realized that I wished I had the kind of time I had in college, and that my high-school-self's opinion on time was a joke, and thought that now, surely now, I have no time to do things.

And then I had kids. And wouldn't you know it, kids are time vacuums. They suck up every little piece of remaining time, and then go running around the room, waiting for more. I'm pretty sure Dr. Who could put out an episode where children are somehow devouring the space-time continuum, and interrupting the wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey-ness of it all, and he has to save humanity from their hungry grasp. And it would probably be legitimately frightening, at least to parents.

So now I realize that, if there is ever a time in your life where you can legitimately think you have no time for things, it's when there are kids in the house.

Except for this: as long as you are still alive, you have time for things. Maybe not the amount of time you want, and maybe not for the exact things, in the exact order, that you want to tackle them... But as long as you are breathing, there is still time to accomplish.

Now, that being said, I would submit that we all still have a LOT to learn when it comes to managing said time, and ensuring we are not allowing ourselves to be pulled too many directions at the same time...

A colleague of mine put it well once: "It's like we're making minimum payments on all our commitments"

That hit me. It was probably the clearest way of putting it that I had ever heard. And it made me realize that I have to find a way to consolidate and strip my schedule down so that I don't simply make minimum payments on my commitments. I need to find ways to be fully present in whatever I am doing, so that the other things aren't bleeding their way into devouring the time I do have for the really important things...things like my family...my wife and kids...

If I'm still breathing, I've still got time. It may not always feel like it, but it's there. Life is a series of moments never lived again. What am I doing with them?

My name is Sam, and sometimes, I feel like this.

:Taxi:

My name is Sam, and even though I have been driving taxi for almost a year an a half, I have never actually taken a taxi anywhere.

So it's not that I can't actually hail a cab. It's just that I am usually the hailee, rather than the hailer. 

And here come the confessions: I wouldn't recommend taxi as an affordable method of transportation--which is why I have always found other means of mobility. I just can't justify the cost. Now, in a pinch, I think I could, or for some special occasion, but not as a general rule.

Which is interesting...my job is to peddle a service I myself am not keen on using. The service itself is great... Just highly costly if used often. In fact, it's actually considered to be a luxury service. As in, along with cable tv and Internet, it's a thing that we technically don't need to be able to afford, but all try to anyway (at least if you're the bar-hopping type). 

Also, when people ask me what I do for fun, and I explain that I play music, and write, and read, and hang out with my family, they don't believe me. They push to find out when I go out partying since I'm driving on the weekends, and, in fact, most nights of the week. I apparently have about the most boring-sounding social scene of many living human being; possibly even more boring than that of some dead humans (at least they get their own tv shows).

So, I work a luxury service job, in a seasonal tourist town, on commission, and have a deadbeat boring social life.

No wonder I can't hail a cab.

My name is Sam, and even though I have been driving taxi for almost a year an a half, I have never actually taken a taxi anywhere.

:Paralysis:

My name is Sam, and I *may* sometimes worry myself into a paralysis when I face big decisions.

Thankfully, when I DID finally pop the question, my wife didn't sit there, rolling her eyes, wondering what took me so long. 

*audible sigh of relief*

But I DO tend toward a paralyzing fear of rejection, whether it's from someone I know, or a stranger.

Take the night I told my wife I liked her. LIKED HER. Not loved her, not wanting to marry her. No, this was at the start of our relationship, when I was informing her of the fact that I simply liked her.

I told her I had something I wanted to talk about, and she likely knew right away what it was, but she played coy and went along with my process. We met at the coffee shop on our college campus, because it was warm, as opposed to the outdoors in Alberta in January, which are far from warm. She ordered a London Fog, as they're called--an earl grey tea latte, if you're a Starbucks aficionado. We sat down together, and I was about to start talking, when I realized that we weren't alone in the coffee shop.

No, I'm not talking about the barista. Obviously, she was there.

There was a whole team of high school hockey players playing table hockey and fooseball and being generally rowdy. Why I hadn't really noticed them before this moment is anyone's guess... Though it likely had something to do with the fact that it was creating a busy enough soundscape that I didn't feel like I could concentrate on my own thoughts.

I asked if she'd be okay with taking a walk outside (remember where we were?), and, like a true American, she said "it's cold out there"... And like a true Canadian, followed it up with "but we can do that, sure."

So we set out, her London fog in hand, through what honestly was everything shy of an actual blizzard. It was dumping snow, and very cold. Only saving grace was it wasn't windy.

We walked for a very long time. I don't dare venture a guess, because I'm sure that in the moment, my sense of time was skewed. However, it was long enough for my wife's tea latte to turn to a puck of solid ice. I'm serious. It took me that long to actually get the words "I like you a lot" out of my mouth.

Except, it took even longer than that. I kept stumbling over my words and worrying aloud about how what I had to say might change everything for us, and not wanting to spoil our friendship with a bombshell and whatever else I could think of to say...except what I actually wanted to say.

Really, if she hadn't known what was coming before this moment, she knew by now.

So she tells me to spit it out, or she's going back inside where it's warm.

I miraculously manage, in a halting way, to tell her I like her, and she responds simply " I like you too."

We headed back inside, and that was that.

We have laughed often since then at this story, because it does seem a little ridiculous. Probably because it is a little ridiculous.

But it's how I have often functioned. I worry easily. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's there. I'm learning, but it's still there from time to time. And that worry can be paralyzing. It can make it impossible to do or say the things you know you need to; the things you know you should.

Thank goodness it doesn't take me that long to get around to saying the important things now.

At least, not in that area of life.

My name is Sam, and I *may* sometimes worry myself into a paralysis when I face big decisions.