Learning to be responsible is part of growing up, they say. Makes me wonder if I ever grew up.

This is a not a good thing. This is not some Peter Pan fantasy where I celebrate being footloose and fancy-free, avoiding any commitment or beholdenness to another human being. I would seriously question the veracity of anyone, man or woman, who stated that as a goal. We all want to have days like that, perhaps, but not lifestyles. Correct me if I’m wrong.

We all want to feel that we are important in some way, and we can’t be important if we are not important to– someone else. Human relationships demand balance, and when one does not hold up his end of the equation, the relationship ultimately fails.

Most of my relationships failed. Inevitably, I questioned whether I was the one not holding up my end. I’ve felt irresponsible in many ways. I start things I don’t finish. I lose friends by rift or drift. (I hope I don’t need to explain that, but if need be I will). At the age of 21, I walked out on my job of three years so I could spend time at my fiance’s college two hours away. At age 23, I walked away from my two best friends since high school because of one falling-out evening. In between those events, my loss of steady income eventually led to me losing my car. I also lost my financial aid from dropping too many classes. I did graduate, taking 5½ years, not four. Because of one essay I turned in one day late, which ultimately lowered my grade in that course from an A to a B, my overall GPA dropped from 3.50 to 3.49. One single paper– if I could have just got my ass in gear and finished one single paper on time (and I could have), I would have graduated cum laude.

At age 26, I dropped out of graduate school after three semesters, feeling disillusioned. Eight months later, I moved to Colorado. Fifteen months after that, I got married.

I married into four children, one with special needs. My responsibility meter spiked. Before my second wedding anniversary, I adopted my wife’s oldest daughter. I had already acted as Dad with the kids living with us at home, but now, I was officially a father. Uber-responsible.

Eight months after that, I was hired as a teacher. Now I became responsible not only for my children but for other people’s children as well.

Three years have passed since then. Yet I still feel, if not irresponsible, much less responsible than I should be. I don’t take care of things at home. I don’t take care of things at school. Not like I should.

All of this thought is prompted by many things, but most of all, worrisome times are ahead for our family. Frightening, perhaps. My wife will undergo her fourth major abdominal surgery of the last six years on Wednesday, and this will be the most serious of them all. The surgeon estimates 6-10 hours. That is a lot of time on the table, a lot of time under, and there will be a lot of careful maneuvering around vital organs and blood vessels. I’m sure you can imagine what comes next.

There is a chance, albeit quite a small chance, but more than a zero chance, that she will not leave the operating room alive.

It’s highly unlikely, no more than a one percent chance. But major surgery always carries this risk. My wife is a strong person, who has a very strong belief about the afterlife based on her own experiences (another story, another time). She is not afraid of death. She only fears the effect it would have on her children, who mean everything to her.

She is very responsible. She is everything in that regard that I wish I could be. She organizes, she sets priorities, she gets things done. She runs the household, she cleans it, she buys the groceries, she pays the bills (though I still make a bit more money). She observes things in the house that I am oblivious to. She keeps the kids in line, checking up on their rooms, while I trust them far too much to take care of their own spaces. And I feel that even when I try, I will always miss something, and never live up to her standard.

We have had the talk. Should the worst happen, she entrusts everything to me. She had to fill out this document called “Five Wishes” which essentially amounted to a living will. But she worries if I can handle it. So do I.

She says she has faith, that she believes in me. She says she wants me to see what she sees– in me. When will I learn to? When will I act on it?

I sit here in my office at home, surrounded by crates of material I brought home from school to organize. Mostly, it’s the same stuff I brought home to organize last summer, and did not. Now my time is running short again, especially considering the events of this week. On top of it all, I decided to start graduate school this summer. This course is “guided independent study”, meaning it’s basically me and the instructor. I complete the assignments, she reads and grades them. I have to set my own deadlines, and now I’m already behind and this weekend, the paper I was supposed to send by Friday only got sent tonight.

It seems to me that I have plenty of motivation, no shortage of reasons to change my ways, get my act in gear, whatever cliché you may apply. But yet I don’t feel it strongly enough to act on it. What is it going to take to make me take action? Hopefully not the worst. But maybe a scare is some kind of divinely-intervening-kick-in-the-butt.

One day soon, I will feel I can truly call myself responsible. First and foremost, I must be responsible for myself.

I’m looking forward to sharing good news here next Sunday.

It’s Sunday and that means time to write. I had thought of drafting this post earlier, but that did not happen. I had thought of setting not only a day but also a time of that day as my deadline– I was thinking of noon Eastern time, which would be 10 a.m. my time. But until I get in the swing of this deal, I’d best be content with having a 24-hour window once a week. Andy mentioned me in his post this week and so now the pressure is on. I mean that in a good way– pressure makes diamonds.

Our kids were gone for most of this week, from Sunday afternoon to Saturday afternoon. The three younger ones were attending day camp at their grandmother’s church. The teenager was babysitting our former neighbor’s daughters. So I had quite a bit of time at home alone, during which I should have accomplished a lot. A lot. Such was not reality, and I’m disappointed to say that I’m not surprised. Then Wednesday afternoon my wife’s best friend, Eric, arrived for a visit and was here until Saturday afternoon. We had a lot of fun. (Photos in photoblog, go look). It was great because I actually had a guy to hang out with for three evenings. Since I moved to Colorado (today, July 19, was the day I left, and Tuesday, the 21st, will mark exactly seven years since the day I arrived) I haven’t had a “bud” like that and it’s a part of my life I’ve been missing. I really don’t know how one goes about making new friends when you’re married with children. Sure, I have friends at work who I occasionally socialize with with a gathering at one’s house or at the bar on Friday afternoons (or playing basketball on Friday afternoons), but folks who come over, hang out, drink, play video games or watch funny movies– I don’t know any here and now.

Friendship is a funny thing to me. In this day and age of online social networks we toss around the word ever so lightly, as in “He’s my friend on Facebook,” etc.; some even make it a verb, as in in “I friended her on Myspace.” Certainly Xanga falls into the same category. There are always people who will belittle and/or stigmatize social interactions that exist on a mostly or totally online basis, as if they don’t really count or matter. They will say that the social Web is a complete fantasy world, that you don’t really know anyone you talk to within it, that you can’t know someone if you haven’t physically seen or heard them (I guess blind and deaf people are friendless by default under such a definition). Such remarks always rile me. I have spent probably too much time socializing online in the past 13 years, and at times it was, indeed, because I was lacking for such interaction in the “real world.” But I don’t discount the friendships I made. I have met a number of people “IRL” who I first knew online and I have to encounter any individuals who were totally different from the way they represented themselves. At worst, some of them were more boring than their online personas. Others, like Natasha, are even more interesting.

The result though is that even when people do feel an attachment to online friends, they seek to minimize it publicly for fear of being freakish because of this stubborn stigma. I don’t think people should have to deal with such feelings. On the one hand, I do think it’s true that for many, the Internet can actually make one less connected and more isolated from the outside world.  I don’t advocate spending all your free time playing World of Warcraft and not stepping out into the sunshine. Just like anything else in life, moderation is called for. I think a balance between socializing in “real life” and online can be struck– and obviously you may have friends you interact with in both spheres. But I’m not going to feel like a freak if I seek social interaction here when I am short on it outside.

I will fiercely defend the friendships I have formed online, some of which have translated over to the outside world, others of which have not. There are people who I have never met face-to-face who have listened to me when I needed someone to and offered their support and loyalty. That is what I call friendship. It may not be the hanging out and drinking yourself silly kind that I was speaking of earlier, but those are the most important things true friends do for you. I also feel that I know someone better when I read how they express themselves in writing than I do when I just met them in a bar five minutes ago. But the greatest testimony of all I can offer in this regard is the simple but vitally important fact that I met my wonderful wife right here on Xanga and that led me on that 1450 mile drive exactly seven years ago.

Lately it doesn’t seem to be so easy to make new friends in any fashion, online or off.  I don’t know if it’s more age or situation. But I would like to develop new friendships, of any sort, and I’ll take the risk of sounding pathetic in stating that. C’est la vie.

I suppose I will write more on the topic of organization next time. ‘Tis my greatest weakness and I sense I will be suffering for it in the near future. Until next Sunday, be well and keep writing.

I know it looks long, but don’t let that scare you.

Ahem… just read, please?

New plan: Weekly posts. On Sunday. I know I can’t write (or at least enough to post) every day– if I’m not accomplishing it in summer, it sure as hell isn’t going to happen once school starts. I noticed that Andy posts on a regularly weekly basis, every Friday. If a dedicated writer like him can do it, so can I. But I know better than to do it on a weekday, and I figure giving myself Saturday to work something up will be helpful. All the best columnists get front-page treatment in the Sunday newspaper, so I can pretend to follow in that tradition. Plus, during fantasy-football season, I can remember to post to my blog when I post my lineup.

Now we conclude our meta-xangation and move on to our regularly scheduled post…

This week will feature a visit from my wife’s best friend. On the 29th, my wife goes in for her third major abdominal surgery in the past six years (she explains much better than I can on her site). Meanwhile, I’m taking my first class of my M.Ed. program and trying to get all my teaching stuff organized– a project I procrastinated all last summer and have so far this one as well, but I know I will be miserable through the year if I don’t get it done.

Now let me relate the exploits of last week…

So, in my pulse I had mentioned the adventure of trying to give away a TV. Yes, give away. You figure that would be easy, but it was not quite so easy as I would hope.

When we moved here, into our own house (OK, we’re renting it but consider it ours) and moved out of my mother-in-law’s house, we brought two televisions with us. Both were 32″ models but one was a three-year-old LCD HDTV and the other was a seven-year-old CRT monster. The latter behemoth weighs at least as much as I do and was no fun whatsoever getting out of or into a house. Although we did not keep it on the main level here, we did at least have the sense to take it downstairs to the basement, where we figured it might remain even after we left because there was no way we were moving that thing again.

This TV generally worked fine but had one small problem. Sometimes you would turn it on, and after a few seconds it would turn off– actually, the picture would disappear and then you had to turn it off and on again. Sometimes you would have to repeat the cycle several times and flip through the channel guide, raise and lower the volume, etc. to make it be “active” so it would stay on. Even when it stayed on TV itself, if you changed to another input like the DVD player or Wii, it would go out again. But we could always get it to stay on eventually. However, our child with autism did not understand the problem and did not have the patience for it, which sometimes became an issue itself.

So, my wife and I decided that we could get a new TV once we saw a really good deal. That good deal finally came along at the end of June with a special at Costco.com. With a $100 “instant rebate” they were offering a 40″ HDTV for $499. I got the green light from the missus to order it, and as soon as I did, I said “We should get rid of that old one.”

There was brief discussion about asking some small amount of money for it, but we decided that considering its one issue and its sheer bulk, we would give it away for free provided that the takers would carry it out of our house with no assistance from us.

And where do you go to give something away for free? To Craigslist, of course.

I posted the ad, complete with two photos, shortly after 3 p.m. The first three offers came in less than 10 minutes. By 4 p.m. I had received a dozen offers. I started off by responding only to the first three. I hadn’t mentioned the TV’s “issue” in the ad, but felt I should do so to anyone who was seriously ready to take it. That mention led #1 to decide she didn’t want it. #2 was going to come get it, but it would be she and her husband and 1-year-old twins in the car so could we help her husband get it while she stayed in the car? NO, we couldn’t, that’s not part of the bargain. Read the ad. (But I was polite about it). #3 just didn’t respond right away, as I recall.

Several of the early offers promised they could “come get it right now” but those didn’t have priority in the first received, first offered order which I tried to maintain, for a while anyway. Various people said they wanted to get the TV for their son, daughter, grandmother, etc. But by the time we came back from picking up dinner, roughly 8:00, the more interesting e-mails were coming.

“hi my name is sheila i am a cancer pt. when i got home from chemo today my house had been cleaned out by my ex. is the tv still available pls let me know”

“Do you still have this TV? My TV went out and I am a single working [college student] mother…and right now getting a new TV isnt in my budget.  I can have 2 people come get it for me….Please? I can get it tonight also…please let me know”

“Hello my name’s Marie & i desperately need a new TV i am currently struggling just to make the rent and last week my only TV was stolen while i was at work. Please call me if your TV is still available i have friends that could pick it up and carry it for me tomorrow.”

“Hi my name is Tina and I just came across your ad on craigslist for your 32 inch tv. Well I understand that you have had alot of replys about the tv and I just would like to pretty much beg for you to give me the opportunity to have the tv. The reason is I just moved into my apartment with my daughter its our first apartment together we are recovery from a really bad loss in the family. Both of my grandparents just passed away 2 weeks ago and when I went to my daughters friends to break the news to her she took it very hard cuz we were living with my grandparents at the time they passed away. Well as we were getting funeral arrangements ready for my grandparents our house (grandparents house) had got robbed by some thugs and stole my daughters tv that my grandmother had previously bought her and other electronics as well, so I would really like to get my daughter another tv the only problem is I don’t have that kind of money to get it for her. I’m not trying to have you feel sorry for me but I’m just telling you the truth of why I desperately need one.  Please if possibly can you call me at …”

Color me cynical, but I guessed at least some of these stories/pleas to be fictional. Suddenly I felt elevated to a kind of benevolent philanthrophist who had to decide who was most deserving of my goodwill? The cancer patient cleaned out by her ex? Someone who just recently had their TV stolen? (The last story there tops them all for melodrama, especially with the addition of the line “I’m not trying to have you feel sorry for me”). No, I picked the one that sounded most legitimate to me– the single mom in college. She wasn’t anywhere near next in line in terms of when the e-mail was received, but she seemed the most worthy beneficiary to me.

She was going to get it. We made it as far as exchanging numbers and I called and gave her directions. I waited. Two, close to three hours passed. Finally I checked my e-mail again. She had written again, and as far as one can read tone in an e-mail, she seemed genuinely frustrated and apologetic at once. Her help had “flaked out at the last minute” on her. I felt bad but had to stick to the rules as stated before.

So I was left trying to sort through the now over 40 e-mails (although I had deleted the ad earlier in the day, after she said she was coming). I started sending out offers in the order received; I just wanted whoever could come get it first. Eventually this young woman and her husband who was, I could tell, corresponding with me via her cell phone showed up about 8 p.m. Monday night and carried it away.

The new TV was supposed to arrive the next day, Tuesday. UPS gave its infamous “9 a.m. to 7 p.m.” window for when it could be delivered. By 5 there’d been no sign of it and I wondered if I should say something. My wife advised me that until 7 p.m., all they would tell you is “it’s out for delivery.” So I waited. And sure enough, at 6:50– with all of ten minutes to spare– the truck shows up.

I had purchased a new DirecTV HD DVR the same day at– you guessed it– Costco and was looking forward to big-screen full-HD glory that night. But, of course, DirecTV’s systems were being updated and their agents had no access to user accounts. Ultimately I had to wait almost 48 hours, until Thursday evening, to get my new receiver authorized but, let me tell you, looking at this thing, the wait was well worth it. I’m such a guy.