Shinigami Apple Merchant- Ask Me Anything (06/01/13)

Question 1- Glazomaniac:
Where are you from? what's your family like? what's the worst thing to ever happen to you?
=================================

Splitting these up as one answer per post:

Question 1: A multitude of different places over the years. My father was, from one perspective, a very inept Independent Computer Consultant (think Michael Scott savvy/naivete meets Stephen Root, Office Space version), and from a more realistic perspective, a con man who had an incomplete Comp Sci degree but was REALLY good at having 5 minute conversations with people. Long story short, prior to moving down to Florida, I've never lived anywhere longer than 4 years (he never worked anywhere longer than 6 months and 2-3 jobs of wacky antics usually necessitated a mass exodus). I was born and raised in various parts of Connecticut, then New Jersey, then Pennsylvania, and I've been in Florida for almost a decade now.

But hey, that Pepsi golf umbrella he got as swag over 25 years ago instead of getting paid still works like it's brand new, so thank you for that, Dad (no joke-- it's indestructible). I use it every hurricane season.

It may sound weird, but I feel most at home on the internet. Probably because I've been using it almost everyday for nearly 20 years. I feel most fortunate to live in an age where you can embody an idea, envelope and develop it, then share it with others immediately and "directly" from your mind to build something together, rather than have to stick to a persona in society lest you make others uncomfortable overstepping your bounds(and not knocking their reaction-- I totally get it).

To quote Mikey from The Goonies-- "that's their world, out there"-- people need things to make sense and fit in a cookie-cutter system they can count on-- they don't need someone trying to compare Aristotle's Metaphysics to Silverhawks on a lark when that TPS report has to be processed in an hour, darn it. Damn it, now I have to go listen to ~Greendale is Where I Belong.~
=======================================================


Question 2: My father was a child in a man's body, for good and for bad. Again, Michael Scott's personality with Stephen Root's looks sums it all up right there (though he never screamed, "I DECLARE BANKRUPTCY!"). I was sent with him everywhere from age 5 on to make sure he did what he was supposed to do on errands, making me his Toby, as it were. The family's default joke for him dealing with anyone or anything outside of a job interview (where he excelled), was "but honey, they said they were MAGIC BEANS!" He made thousands through deception and blew it all twice as fast. He was an emotional waterfall, ready to bless all with his affection, but bi-polar and just as quick to push everyone away and raze the earth if he felt slighted in the least (again, very Michael Scott).

My mother was, both brilliantly astute, acerbic, and cutting in all her remarks, but also very emotionally distant and reserved and extremely private. She loved detective stories, mystery programs, puzzle games, and debates. She used to play Devil's Advocate with me and take the opposite side of any topic I discussed just to keep me sharp on there being multiple perspectives for every concept out there- none of them ever wholly correct. I never needed much emotional fulfillment growing up, so her reserved nature didn't bother me as it my siblings, but it is sad that-- five years of trying to keep her healthy before she passed-- and I learned more of her from my sister after she died than when she was alive (not for lack of trying on my part). I try not to take it as her not letting me in, but despite what the brain says, you're always going to get that An Officer and a Gentleman vibe from emotional distancing, "Why didn't he just come to me?" etc.

She was a child piano prodigy who was forced by her parents to play at concerts to earn money on the side at the drop of a hat, so she was extremely shy about sharing her talents with anyone, even decades later (we had a family piano we took with us on EVERY move we EVER had, and she NEVER played it-- my sister told me she'd only do that if she were alone in the house, and Michigan Jay style, would stop playing the MOMENT people returned. Poor mom). Fittingly, she idolized Katherine Hepburn in style and conversational bravado, and the easiest image to give you of my family throughout the years is that of The Lion in Winter-- she was Katherine Hepburn/Eleanor, the rest of my family were varying degrees of Geoffrey, Richard, Alais, and Philip II... and Dad was Prince John, without question.

As for the rest of my family-- my eldest brother was a beloved hedonist who partied John Belushi style (without the drugs as far as I know, beyond MJ and booze), until he passed away seven years ago from a massive coronary. So long as someone else was paying the bill, he was the life of the party and the quintessential '80s man up until his death.

My older sister's very outwardly caring and compassionate, which I admire greatly-- but as it's an act of overcompensation for her past, she can also seem shockingly selfish and indignant of others seconds later (most understandably so from her perspective). I say this to give substance to the phrase: "She's the kind of person who would offer anyone a million dollars should she possess it, and mean to give it all away, in one second, and the very next second, find something she wants to buy, and berate people for potentially even accepting her offer, THEN stealing 5 dollars from them for the infraction to her generosity." But she never means anyone direct malice-- she's just trying to find balance between helping others out of guilt and helping herself out of natural necessity-- and I support her efforts even when they falter. At her best, she has a wonderful family she supports helicopter parent style /cheer, and when I do go out to see movies these days, it's with her family (the only 2 movies I've seen in a theater alone are Ernest Goes to Jail and The Truman Show). And yes, you can thank her for taking me to see Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer.

My older brother takes after my dad both directly in homage and indirectly in how he's perceived by others-- but he's found a balance my father always lacked. He professionally solicits others on behalf of major businesses, and does so quite well and without illegality to boot. As with everyone in my family, he's nomadic in spirit and removed from society to a great extent, but he's also the one who thrives the most being out there with everyone else. He loves putting on different personalities and attitudes to connect with others and seeing where things go from there. And he shares my mother's acerbic wit with my dad's amicability. Just don't lend him any money, EVER (to quote Parenthood).

And finally, there's my fraternal twin, younger by twelve minutes. They say twins are either very close and loving or at each other's throats. All I can say from my experience is-- trying to connect and bond with someone who wants you never to have existed and says as much each passing week (never jovially) was like I would imagine being in an arranged marriage for 20 years could be. Since this answer has already gone on for too long (my apologies), I'll sum up and say: my fraternal twin is Pete Campbell in spirit and attitude. No joke-- he really is. It's shockingly, eerily accurate how well Vincent Kartheiser inadvertently mimics my brother's sheer selfishness and the destructive nature of his temper tantrums. And thank god I get to see THAT every week instead of having to talk to my brother ever again. Never change, Pete Campbell, you bastard I love to hate yet pity all the same.
================================================

Follow Up Question: Glazomaniac-- holy shit, SAM. you've lived one helluva life there. how old are you, even?

33 years old. My parents were 35 when they had my brother and I and my eldest brother was 11 years older than me up until his death, just to give a sense of perspective. It may seem a little crazy in summation-- but really our life was very "stable" at that point in the '80s.

If my brother and I didn't have Mom to keep things together, we had an adult teen brother and sister to help as well-- let alone all the TV/games/entertainment available for escapism.

I don't envy what my older siblings had to go through in the '70s by comparison. My sister says my dad used to have to drive trash in his beat up station wagon with her on the way to school to find various dumpsters for use so he either wouldn't have to pay for disposal or so he didn't have to document himself for that service. But from ~1982-1988 we had full maid service every week and flew to every island in that Beach Boys song (probably because my dad thought it'd be funny to do that)-- go figure.

=================================================
Follow Up Comments:

glazomaniac
you're my favorite. have some sonically distilled joy. it starts off rousing, epic, gets just plain happy and silly, and caps off with a singalong.

==================================================
Shinigami Apple Merchant
Thank you very much for this modern Ode to Joy, sir. I shall treasure it, truly. /cheer

==================================================
violincatherine
When I'm not on the verge of going to a violin job (wedding), I'm going to curl up with your posts and absorb them all, then write you something worthy of what you're posting. We all love you and wish all the best for you. I think you're a marvelous human being. xoxo, Cat

==================================================

Question 3: Tough one to answer succinctly, but I'll give it a shot. I'll break this up into 3 answers-- most direct painful worst, most prolonged painful worst, and most emotional worst.

Most direct pain-- I was 8, I was sledding down a very icy hill, I lost control of the sled and it spun around backwards, my ass pushed out to the rear of the sled (now frontally attuned), and a huge tree trunk rammed between my legs before I could change course. Man, before I passed out, those 2 seconds were painful as shit!

Most prolonged pain-- I have an insane metabolism, especially when I'm nervous. As such- anesthesia has very little lasting effect on me. So I go in to get my wisdom teeth taken out, I tell the dental surgeon I need as much pain fortification as possible or it won't work period; he laughs and tells me not to worry. I wake up 3 minutes later and the pain goes on for about 20 minutes while he tells me to just breath deep and soon I'll be asleep again.

Poor schmuck was terrified afterwards I'd sue. I sure did cry a lot. For some reason I also kept apologizing for "being weak" while he was cutting into my gums. My compulsion to do that still weirds me out thinking about it. But at least I don't ever have to go through that experience again. "I'll never put on a life jacket again," as it were. Still, minor stuff compared to what others have dealt with out there-- not like I have anything to complain about. Hundreds of years ago people didn't even have the luxury of mouth wash to stave off infection.

Most emotional worst thing to happen? That's a tough one to narrow down, so I'll go for the most recent. My mother's health deteriorated after I graduated college, so I moved in with her to help out with everyday things. Having her slowly but surely give up on everything she used to love to do, trying to keep her invested, trying to maintain her sanity and my own, and still losing each passing week bit by bit really fucking sucked and I don't wish that on anyone, ever.

My father loved attention, loved to fuck with people's heads to get what he wanted, and died massively in debt through multiple aliases I still haven't fully unearthed. He passed away instantly from a heart attack at an Outback Steakhouse. He wasn't a terrible man, but he sure checked out in a relatively fortunate way given how badly things could have gone down for him should his past have caught up fully before then.

My mother was reserved but hard working and supportive of others, tried to live in private without bringing harm to others with her own needs. And she suffered from multiple strokes over 5 years before losing circulation in her legs, having contaminated, decayed blood flow to her upper body, and enduring agonizing pain for several hours/days before the dosage of morphine finally was sufficient to allow her to enter hospice in peace. I did the best I could, but she deserved better than that.

And then probate happens and you have to dissect everything she ever owned, alphabetize, triple stamp, and categorize it for the state, then divvy it up. She had thousands of VHS tapes she recorded of various television shows (her favorite being Miami Vice) that she never got around to watching. Dozens of unfinished needle point and Sudoku puzzles. Books detailing TV Guide watch orders and what not-- and I got her 3 JVC VHS/DVD hybrids just in case the format went obsolete faster than expected. Now I use the spare models to prop my monitors up.

It's fitting she died during Community S2 since Harmon nailed that whole experience for Pierce dead on- no matter how expected a death is-- it can still leave you raw and knock the wind out of you. Hell, I cried like crazy when "A Little Kiss" aired because my brain told me to remember to wake Mom for the Mad Men premiere. But Peggy in that more recent Mad Men sums it up just as well-- you have to accept it and push through to get to the other side. So thanks for the help, community.
==================================================
Follow Up Comments:

glazomaniac
My mother's health deteriorated after I graduated college, so I moved in with her to help out with everyday things.

i read this, and i had to take a moment to clear the tears to read the rest. my condolences, even belatedly, my friend.

==================================================
Dr Regina Phalange
*HUGS SHINIGAMI APPLE MERCHANT*

You're making me cry right now. My condolences. You sound like one of the bravest, strongest people out there.
My Nana's currently in hospital. It's not deathly serious, but it's life effecting. Your story has made me come to terms with everything.

Thank you.
==================================================

Shinigami Apple Merchant

*hugs*. In all heartfelt honesty-- it gets worse. Then it gets much worse. Then it gets better, but you feel guilty for feeling better. Then you feel the worst of all for not feeling guilty anymore. Then you don't feel bad and you start to remember the good things. Then like that speech Bubbles had on The Wire S5, you let the good things back in and the bad things only serve to exemplify the good rather than degrade them. And then it gets much better. And if you're really lucky, you can share that with others and build something from all the bad shit that happened.

So in short, it gets better. /hug. Take care.

==================================================
Dr Regina Phalange

You have no idea how much that means right now for so many different reasons.

Thank you. You take care too.
==================================================

Main Question #3:

Semi-bored torontonian
What do you like? What do you dislike? What's your favorite bird? How are you always so cheerful?

===========================================
If it's cool, I'll answer like and dislike based on personal traits I've experienced (since it can be attributed to anything from objects to entertainment media to one's preferred weather/environment).

Personal traits I like the most-- honesty, compassion, and commitment. Conversely, personal traits I detest-- duplicity, concealed selfishness (I respect Chevy's overt selfishness, for point of comparison), dismissiveness, and flipplantness. Not to get too emo-- but life is so short, and the time to get what you want so brief within it-- what's the point in lying to yourself or others? All I've ever seen wholly achieved from constant needless deception is confusion, loss, and prolonged ignorance and indignation. Totally needless destruction.

You have mini-cold wars pop up in offices, friendships, establishments, all from perceived slights-- all because everyone's so afraid of making a mistake-- of being wrong-- of losing ANYTHING. And they gain NOTHING from it.

And it doubly hurts when I pull a mini-Jeff Winger and go in and say "I know you want X-- please say you want X and I'll help you achieve it-- I know you don't want to be selfish in society and say X, but come on-- meet me halfway and I'll help. And you owe me nothing in return." 9 times out of 10 the person stays miserable, refuses help even when I try (and I'm not pulling an Enlightened here or anything-- I hate butting in to other peoples' affairs), and pushes me further away. But you can't lead a horse to water and make it drink, and you can't make yourself responsible for other peoples' happiness.

So instead I try to settle for indirect bursts of honesty. Because if you get the right moment when you can help someone with a fresh perspective on things-- since everyone gets lost in this deluge of societal procedure and mismanaged expectations-- you CAN really make people feel better and it's worth it.

Since it never pays in the long run to truly dislike things, I'd say the only thing I really hate is my brother. But only this long as a Bad Burger King effect-- it pays to remember and keep a distance in this case. Story time-- my mom tried to eat right but she loved junk food. McDonalds owns this part of Florida, the end. But she likes variety and tries to go to this Burger King across the street from the best McDonalds in our nomadic existence. This Burger King is atrocious-- poor service, always get the wrong food (if you ever get it)-- but she kept trying to go back there hoping it'd be better- sheer insanity at its core definition.

So whenever she opted for a crazy plan to delve into something doomed for disaster-- I'd go "Bad Burger King Plan, mom-- it won't work out this time any better than last time." It took her 4 visits to that place over 2 years to finally give up on it. I hate my brother as a Bad Burger King Plan because I don't want him dead but I can't stand to be around him or how he makes me feel.
His selfishness, his fear, his duplicity (which aren't even horrendous-- they're just too close to home for me to tolerate)-- I have to stay away from that Burger King lest I get food poisoning again.

My favorite bird used to be ducks but watching them forcibly mate each other has soured me on their awesomeness (they own Florida too). So I'm in love with penguins-- they're birds who hug each other for warmth and affection, what's not to love?

Final answer in the next post.
=================================================
It may seem fucked up (and it fucks with my mind a little thinking about it), but I owe my optimism to my Dad's naivete, truly. That's why I enjoyed watching Michael Scott on The Office so much (though I know you never watched it so I'll submit instead that my Dad's favorite Disney film was Pinocchio, and aptly so for the characterization similarities-- he ended up on Pleasure Island in the '50s-->80s and never grew up).

His childishness was at times destructive, mortifying, and irredeemable, but at the same time he still went out there everyday with a smile and got people laughing at the drop of a hat. It's hard not to let some of that rub off on you. And honestly I never expected things to last this long or end up this well given how it started out or how badly it could have turned out.

I was pretty scared in college something would happen to mom and my dad would run off with everything, for instance-- but I got a normal college experience and I didn't have to work excessively to afford anything-- and my name is 100% clean despite his past. That's a lot more than most people get, in the United States, alone, let alone the rest of the world set against the rest of history set against the rest of the universe set against all of existence.

I get to think what I want to think about when the moment strikes me-- "but I stand here before you today beholden to no human cocksucker, and holdin' a workin' fuckin' gold claim, and not the U.S. government tellin' me I'm trespassin', or the savage fuckin' red man or any of these other limber-dick cocksuckers passin' themselves off as prospectors had better try and stop me."

And if you spend enough time alone meditating, you realize that even if you're weird and society were to spit in your face everyday, LIFE always accepts you. Watch the sun pass through one side of a room-- from a window pane to the next over the course of a day-- no one berating, no one destroying-- life just happening and you're allowed to be a part of it even after you pass on. You're already accepted just for existing-- like the end of the Incredible Shrinking Man.

It may seem really fucking hokey-- but that first part to Casey At The Bat's coda about "somewhere children are playing" has that converse side to its irony in our modern times-- somewhere people are snarky, and somewhere people are blowing shit up just cuz, and somewhere people are putting each other down just to make themselves feel better, but not where you live and how you act in each moment, not here-- for here you always have a chance to strike gold.
=================================================
Follow-Up Comments:

=================================================
glazomaniac
i'll be honest, i skimmed this at first just to find out your favorite bird. now to read the rest of it...
=================================================
Semi-bored torontonian
OMG, you have an evil twin! Does he wear a goatee and cackle maniacally?

I am not trying to be flippant; I've been hanging by the computer all morning instead of trying to beat the rain and run some errands, waiting for your posts to come in. So I need to couch my reaction in a little snark, because otherwise I may cry, and you won't like me when I'm sentimental.

In all seriousness though: thank you. I'm sorry about your mom and your brother, and about your dad (who sounds like the kind of character Jack Lemmon would have played; or maybe Nicolas Cage? nonetheless, I can imagine the real life impact of living with such a person is more lasting in the absence of a tidy dissolve to end credits). Thank you for sharing all this with us: it's generous, and beautiful, and it made for a captivating read. And thank you for posting here.
=================================================
Shinigami Apple Merchant
No offense taken whatsoever- no worries. And I always feel bad spewing vitriol about him-- since he's far from a terrible person. At worst he is the quintessential man who lives "a life of quiet desperation."

He's fearful, co-dependent, and at worst acts like Travis Bickle, muttering under his breath about all he deserves to do and how disenfranchised he is emotionally and professionally by this world. And ironically he's been given the most attention and help by the rest of my family (I too was given quite a bit-- my older brother is the one that got the shaft, eternal middle-child style. I really feel for him). But he acts like he's the diamond in the rough-- he's Marilyn and we were all the Munsters growing up, making him feel like he's not good enough (which is a bald-faced lie).

It hurts trying to love him given his spite and how much of his identity is based on no one "getting him." That's probably why the emo generation rubs me the wrong way. "No one's trying to kill me everyday, there's plenty of food and opportunity out there for happiness, and I can think what I want when I want, but MAN, no one really 'GETS' me, you know? People deserve to die for not appreciating me." He'd never actually hurt anyone, and he's happily married now-- but it's that attitude underneath it all pervading from his every other comment that just crawls under my skin and drives me insane.

Dermott Fictel from the Venture Brothers is another good analogue for the harmless obnoxiousness of his behavior. Or again-- Pete Campbell. His punishment is that Pete Campbell has to be Pete Campbell for the rest of his life-- never truly happy even when he gets what he wants because his identity IS about wanting.

But hey, he has an awesome Trudy by his side so I don't worry about my brother's future kids at least (he was like my dad and Michael Scott in he'd always cry growing up opining-- "I want kids so when I come home I have automatic friends who will ask me how my day was and love me just because I want them to."- that used to scare me). All you can do is Pity dah fool because you can't help him, Semi T.

And my Dad is William H Macy in Fargo early on in life and Jack Nicholson in About Schmidt near the end of his life. I don't want to paint a picture of him as some sharp conniving dope or even Nic Cage in **Edit Matchstick Men** (my dad was never THAT functional-- his child like emotions always kept him from lasting more than 5 minutes with people).

He wasn't evil or horrible-- he was just a wall of jokes, confidence, and good will hiding this really bi-polar needy 5 year old underneath. Always angry the world couldn't match a dream he had 5 seconds earlier and never learning from it. And by that I mean-- don't STOP dreaming-- just plan something from it-- build something from it. But he wanted it NOW and patted himself on the back for getting something for nothing- he wasn't gonna be some sap (his POV at its nastiest).

And you are most welcome--- thank you for your continual support and beautiful, poignant contributions to all the discussions on this thread every day. You're not Shirley, and Shirley's not my mom, but you keep people talking and content here in spite of all the horridness out there the way the best caretakers do. Thank you.
=================================================
Semi-bored torontonian

Now I'm sad that your AMA is getting pushed off the page...

Reading all this, I was reminded of Alison Bechdel's Fun Home - a memoir of a life spent in the shadow, and under the influence of a domineering, mercurial father. There's probably little overt similarity between your dad and her (other than a sudden death, and a burden of secrets left in his wake), but you have the same loving, yet lucid way of describing him. I think it's admirable that you can be so positive and so wise at the same time.

Again: thank you. This has been a pretty memorable experience. It's made me reevaluate my own negativity, and mood swings and general misanthropy (you wouldn't like me when I get bitter, believe me). It's nice to know I don't come off like that all the time.
=================================================
Shinigami Apple Merchant

/comfort. I'm Mr. Misanthrope outside my home, believe me.

It's pretty shitty out there sometimes. I can't imagine trying to teach or connect with anyone on anything EVERY day, especially when most people are just trying to use education as a means to an end to gain power and success from that Assembly Line (even the good natured people need to believe this at times to get ahead in life for the greater things at the end of the race). And the system seemingly penalizes anyone who just wants to learn for the sake of learning or teach for the sake of discussing the finer points in life, as it's all outside the curriculum.

I just realized when I got my own room at 13 that I wanted that solitude and its peacefulness for the rest of my life and I got hooked. I don't get mad at dealing with everyone just trying to live their lives parallel and in conjunction with mine anymore since I just avoid them in the first place. So I have the luxury of not being bogged down by societal mandates and actively trying to care about everyone around me unless I choose to step outside.

That's hardly a solution as much as it a defense mechanism on my part. If I had to deal with people (not individuals but people as a mass) again on a daily basis I'd just start losing it again and jadedness would pop right back up. The negativity isn't who you really are ever-- it's what you need to keep from falling apart against the insanity of balancing all those plates at once.

But yes, the most important thing is, when you or I post on this thread, we can always put our best foot forward, and that intent comes through each time, believe me. People can suck, but certainly not this place. /cheer
=================================================

Main Question #5:

Lt. Broccoli
Who is your daddy, and what does he do?

==============================================
My dad had several different names depending upon where he worked and which credit card he was using, and at one point or another he even used the SSN of each of my family members on his tax returns to avoid the IRS (all conflicts resolved at this point, as far as I know).

So I prefer to answer that my daddy was Pinocchio, Michael Scott, Willy Loman, The Incredible Hulk, Dennis the Menace, both Lebowskis, John Goodman(the BEST part of him-- I can't stress that enough-- and they're both from St. Louis), William H Macy in Fargo (that scene on the phone with the DMV gave me shivers- "AHHH OHHHKAY! THE PAPERWORK'S JUST SMUDGED I SWEAR!"), Jack Nicholson in About Schmidt (the scariest movie I've ever seen in my life- and no, not because of Kathy Bates, you jerks ), and Foghorn Leghorn.

And my mom never said he was a real sex machine. And it's NAH A TUMAAAH!

He did work as an Independent Computer Consultant (IE he read Compuserve and then advised people to buy the computers they listed as his own advice while telling dirty jokes over beers), at one time or another at:

Pepsi, Johnson & Johnson, Seagrams, Maidenform, a subdivision of Miramax, a subdivision of NASA, General Mills, a US subdivision of Panasonic, the refrigerator division at GE, and at the longest time and expense of them all BY FAR- a car company. Which one? "A MAJOR one." They hired him- TWICE. People he knew from college and worked for didn't even do that.
==============================================