J. Davis Studio Blog

First things first… in case I lose you in this overly long blog, please be sure and see the story I have written about John’s history, “Survival of the Inner Spirit”.

Now back to bid-ness:

Just because I’m not posting to my blog, does not mean I’m not writing. I am just worn down from learning new technology. My mind just can’t absorb more info about Twitter, Facebook (Fan page or Group? Personal vs Business), Myspace, Linkedin, Wordpress vs. Dreamweaver, “tell a story” vs “be brief”… bah! I like our Facebook fan page, because I can edit it quickly, and keep it fresh easily. Linking our blog to our Facebook is not as easy as it sounds. Sometimes I think I’m posting to our fan page, but the post is only attached to my personal Facebook account. I want to talk to my friends about MY life, not my business life. But I know sometimes people who collect John’s work would like to know about him and his background, so I post personal stuff about our family and the obstacles we’ve encountered in the 20+ years we’ve been in business.

But my time to devote to the computer is limited. That’s mostly by choice since I am fried from having to keep my technology education up to date. I’ve used a computer in business since 1988, long before there were online tutorials to make it easier. If fact my used Zenith brand computer ran off MS-Dos, not windows. But every software program I have ever chosen to use, like most women my age, I have taught myself.  And after awhile, with two children to raise, a small business to run, and…. well life, I just started learning the bare minimum of what I had to to do the things I had to. But the bare minimum still takes a lot of brain cells, and when I wasted some of my precious few on technology that became outdated by the time I learned it, my knees started hitting the ground.

I’d stagger back up, and try a new path, but with the speed of technology today, I’d just run into another wall and down I’d go again. But this time I’m going to stay down for awhile, or at least find a way to make it easier on myself. Our youngest graduated from high school last summer, and is now 18. On the day she turned of age, I faced our new of age daughter, as well as our 21 year old, slapped the imaginary dirt off my hands, and told them both “My job is done”. When my 21 year old protested “No! You can’t just stop being our mother!!”, I said, “you’re right, but your decisions today are made as adults. I have raised you to know right from wrong, and while I may not always agree with your choices, they are your choices… and so only you will be accountable for them”. I told them both “It’s my turn now. I get to get back on the road to finding out what I want  be when I grow up.”.

Life is full of compromises. I knew I’d be sacrificing when I chose to have a family. I had no idea just how hard it would be, but I’d of signed on anyway. But now that it’s time for everyone to stand on their own two feet, they only want to be independent when it’s convenient for them. And after stepping in to catch them when they failed, because it was just too uncomfortable for me to stand by and watch, I have to make myself do just that. I also have to stand up to the guilt, both self imposed as well as imposed by those who are perfectly capable of doing the things they should be doing, but who know if they manipulate and whine enough, I’ll give up and throw out my net. I know now that giving in is much too time consuming and limits my movement, so for my own good, I have to put up with the discomfort of being called crazy.

I have tried to discover what my passion is while staying in Alpine, and while that will always be my home, I had to get out of our sleepy, tiny and remote far west Texas town to get a fresh perspective. I was visiting my dad who lives in Ft. Worth, where I was raised and 8 hours from Alpine. But he too starts playing the helpless card after I’ve been there a while. My mom died a couple of years ago, and he misses her. I do, too. But my dad is limiting his activities by not being fearless. He doesn’t connect with people on the Internet, or volunteer, or even go to any of the dances or game nights the Widows and Widowers Association he joined keeps notifying him of. If I stay in Ft. Worth too long, I start feeling guilty I cannot help him meet new friends which starts making me feel resentful. Ahhhh, there’s that self imposed guilt again.

So now what to do? There’s not much in Alpine that fires me up. I tried taking some college classes to help educate me about doing business in the 21^st century, but about 6 weeks in, I realized I was spinning my wheels. I know more about it than my professors since I actually had hands on experience doing it. I went to one class to learn about technology and then another to learn about business. I took an art class, and then realized, I have no desire to create art. I want to sell it. I took an English class because I thought I wanted to write a book, but then realized what I need help with is writing “content”. There’s a difference.

Am I sorry I wasted both time and money on the tuition…. no. Because only by trying something, will I know if it works. Or doesn’t. And for someone who has not lived and breathed business, who has suffered both the ups and downs of tring to survive in this dog-eat-dog world, will they ever really know how to do it. So, after owning a minivan since 1987, I have packed up my beloved manual transmission Scion with its built in iPod connection and hit the road. I don’t know where I’m going, but hopefully I’ll know when I get there.

Later gators.

P.S. You don’t have to have a Facebook account to view our fan page, but I can tell you from the trenches of the school-of-hard-knocks, been there/done that kind of experience, you should have a Facebook account.

for my new “editor”. How lucky am I? I posted to an Alpine message board that I was looking for someone to help me with my blog, and a talented musician and writer living in Austin stepped in. Cindy Symington (“my little life“) is just what the doctor ordered. If you think this blog is long, you should have seen it before Cindy worked her magic! _________________________________________________________

My dad’s birthday is Oct. 15th, one of our busiest weeks at the studio. Although I had been trying to get away to drive the 8 hrs to celebrate with him, one thing after the other kept me at home. But something just hit me this day, and I knew I needed to go. I hurriedly threw a few things in a laundry basket, jumped in my Scion, and sped out of town. When I pulled into my dad’s driveway about 9:30 that night, I couldn’t keep my eyes open even long enough to indulge myself in a little Jon Stewart.

The next morning as we chatted over Cheerios, the lights suddenly went out. We looked up to see a maintenance worker in one of those sky-tubs mounted on a pickup truck cutting the electric cable coming to the house. My dad jokingly remarked “I hope he’s not cutting my electricity off” as he put on his jacket to go see what was up.

When he came back in about five minutes later, a little pale but calm, he told me “They said I have an illegal tap.” Knowing that was not the case, I laughed and said, “No, really.” He said “Really.” Really?! . As he calmly sat back down to finish his cereal. I dropped my spoon and ran out to the street to catch the man in the truck. As luck would have it, he was gone.

It happened that this particular morning was so dark and cloudy we had to take the shoebox that holds my dad’s receipts outside to see. The wind was chilly, so we found refuge in my car until he found an old TXU (Texas Utilities) bill. Fortunately, I had my cell phone since the phones in the house required electricity. Unfortunately, my phone was already low on battery power and I had left my car charger back in Alpine. After 10 minutes dealing with the frustration that plagues all users of automated phone systems, a TXU operator took my info and politely told me we didn’t have a power outage. Grrrr. Back to “Start” I go.

So after more waiting and routing and waiting, I learn that they can’t find my dad’s account at all – not even by the account number. Exasperated, I was routed to supervisor Shelly #79155, one of those people who should never ever ever be in charge of shoe-tying much less a customer service department!

As I tried to deal with this poor excuse for a supervisor, I couldn’t help but be glad I listened to the voice in my head telling me to drop everything and head to Fort Worth. My dad’s recent bypass surgery had left him more vulnerable than usual, and TXU had left him without heat or lights, phone or refrigeratorI

Beside the fact that Shelly was the poorest excuse for a customer service rep I have ever run into (how the heck did she get into this position of power in which we relishes talking down to folks who need electricity?!), she seemed to have trouble following the conversation at all. After insisting that my dad’s account number was invalid (and my dad and I knowing it’s the same account he had used in the whole 39 yrs living in the same house), finally she seemed delighted to be able to announce, “Your account was closed on Oct. 6th for lack of payment.”

“WHAAAA?!?!”

A little backstory is probably in order here. The street name on my dad’s bill has been wrong ever since a failed attempt to change the name. Neighbors had protested and managed to almost save the name, compromising with a slight variation. Because the post office knew the drill and always delivered the bills, my dad gave up trying to change it after several years. He never ever missed a payment and made sure that the account number was always correct.

We could only try to piece together the trail of errors that led to the confusion, but we guess that sometime during his heart bypass ordeal and the recovery period, the post office stopped delivering the bill (A new mailman? New policy? Who knows?) Though I was there to help him during this period, I didn’t even realize the missing electric bill.

I pride myself on my patience. But after pointing out to Shelly #79155 that my dad had never once missed a payment and that this should have been a red flag, she murmured something about how they don’t make “courtesy” calls.

That’s when the ridiculousness of the scenario hit me. I shook my head and I started laughing. Thank the goddess that divine intervention had placed me there as a barrier between my dad and Shelly #79155. In a flash of clarity I remembered gratitude, very grateful I was there, grateful my dad had the means to check into the La Quinta up the street, and grateful that I still had my sanity after dealing with Shelly who, instead of showing my dad respect for being a customer for almost 40 years, was treating him like his business meant absolutely nothing to TXU.

I asked Shelly to transfer me to her supervisor, but after being on hold again for what seemed like forever and my battery running low, I hung up and started all over again. Did Shelly put me on hold for Neverland?

Desperately low on battery power, I started over. After 2 or 3 transfers up the supervisor ladder, I found a woman named Mary who confirmed that TXU doesn’t call people before shutting off service, doesn’t put a warning on the door of a house, but does mail a disconnect notice (even when addressed wrong). AND that my dad’s account number had changed, that the correct street couldn’t be located, yada yada …. I felt like some swirly dark funnel from the sky had sucked us right into that Black Hole we hear so much about.

And that black hole would not have power back until the following week at best.

When Mary said she understood we were a “little” disappointed, my dad and I laughed so hard we had tears rolling down our eyes. I could hear the amusement in Mary’s voice when she said she was sorry, but that “everywhere you go, you have policies, and we have to follow those policies.”.

But at least Mary was a human. I let out a breath and said my dad has nowhere else to go, so we will need to check into a hotel. That’s when she said “Hotel?” I said, “Yes, hotel … it’s cold and dark inside the house, so we have to go somewhere!”

Aha! The word “hotel” had apparently triggered a procedure in TXU’s policy protocol! She’d talk to her supervisor to see what they could do, that they have contracts with local hotels, and she would call me back within 20 minutes. Huh?? After being on the phone for 2 hours, my dad and I were stunned to hear that one word would have changed everything. We just looked at each other and started laughing once again.

And within that time limit, we received a phone call, not from Mary, but from yet another rep named Deena, who said they’d have the power back on before the end of the day.

That should be the end of the story, but when asking for the address where to send the contractor, we saw the tunnel to the Black Hole forming on the horizon, and a cracking noise emit from the earth below.

“There is no such street address in my computer.”

I have found the topic I am most passionate about; gratitude.

As cliché as it sounds these days, and as hard of an emotion as it is to sometimes stir with today’s news beating us down, it is being scientifically proven that the feeling of gratitude is therapeutic.

Maybe it really has to do with NOT feeling the opposite: resentful or regretful. Whatever the conclusion, knowing  that it is critical to one’s emotional and physical wellbeing to feel grateful for the present moment, is nothing new or mysterious.

The feeling of gratitude is a gift, a talent; a talent that takes work and focus to perfect.

AND IF THAT IS NOT OLD SCHOOL ENOUGH FOR YOU:

Meister Eckhart: theologian and philosopher (1260-1328) said,