Its amazing to think about what we do to find 'love.' I only put it in quotes because it's impossible to define, so it will hopefully be more clear what I'm talking about by the end of this. But my point is, I can't believe how much time and thought goes into the lives of those hopeful tables for one when it comes to breaking down the details of the dating world. And before I even get started, I fall in and out of this regrettable trend, so I'm using this as much to help myself as helping anyone else who stumbles on this.
Think about how many relationship-type scenarios you know of in your life. Think about how many people in your life, friends, family, coworkers, you come in contact with through the course of a day or week or month are currently dealing with some form of a significant other, or at least someone that is more significant than one night Nancy from the local pub. So of all those situations, how many of them are simple? How many of them were boy meets girl, girl meets boy, boy likes girl, girl likes boy, date, engage, marry, and here we are? On the other side, how many of them were in some sort of game? Some sort of sign reading, questioning motives, are you in or out, who else are you talking to you, are we exclusive, lets take a break, what do you mean 'we were on a break so i thought it was OK,' or any other sort of jumbled mess with some alternative lettering besides A to B...
So why the complications? Because we're all so scared that the person we're with isn't the right one. Because we fear that sort of long term commitment with someone we're not 100% beyond a shadow of a doubt unequivocally undeniably unfathomably positive that this person is the right one, the chance for 'true love,' the chance to live a fairy tale and end with happily ever after. Because they weren't how you drew them up, but at the end of the day, was your drawing wrong? Because everyone deserves to be happy, so what if this is your only shot at happiness. Because if you don't find someone in the next year then you're going to be too old to find someone. Because dying alone ranks number one on your list of fears. Because people keep telling you that this makes sense. Because everything we've been told has conditioned us to believe we know how we're supposed to feel and what we're supposed to say and what we're supposed to do and how we're supposed to act.
So we take what we have, or what we think we have, and we analyze, we reach, we hope, we twist our minds, and we bend the rules in order to cookie cutter our lives into something that looks clean on the outside. And we rush decisions based on a few looks exchanged and a few minor interactions. And we think that the next person you meet might be the last person you meet. And the next person you kiss might be the last person you kiss. No more first dates. No more meeting the parents. No more secrets being revealed. That 'next step' of life becomes the 'B' on your path. And you finally get to see the future, family kids, dinner parties, vacations, picket fences and walk in closets. Everything makes sense.
Then there's reality.
And the reality is that we break our backs and rack our brains and strain our hearts and the start of the resemblance or something or anything that turns out more often to be nothing. And why? Well we do it BECAUSE of everything I've already stated, but why are we forced to do it? Because no one seems to have the ability to just be open. I recently read a quote that basically said you can't understand how someone views the world unless they talk about themselves. Otherwise, how can you trust them? I paraphrased that because I don't want to re-listen to the podcast where I heard it, but how I interpret it is someone who don't talk about their life is hiding something. Hiding feelings, secrets, motives, agendas, whatever. They're like raccoons, quickly fleeing the scene when too bright a light is cast. Why? Cause they're up to no good. And same with people. Because too many solo-fliers standing next to the bar have an agenda, a plan to deploy. And so the event becomes reciprocated acts of strategy. Whatever happened to, 'hey, I'm interesting in starting something with you, hopefully getting to know each other, and seeing where it goes.' Unless your agenda is, 'honestly, I hope you're good in bed because I don't even want to remember your name.' Then just go with that! Take the guess work out.
Now, don't get me wrong, the game, the chase, the courting process should be fun. You can't treat the whole thing like a contract. 'If you agree, please sign on the line. Great, thanks... the first date will be in 4 days. Please pick me up. Awesome.' There is still room to have fun, and the 'getting to know you' process should always feel new and exciting, assuming you like the person. But just don't get caught in this, 'I don't know what to do,' 'I really like him but...' 'I need to wait for a clear sign,' and 'he needs to prove his love before anything can move forward.' These are just opportunities for failure. Avoid them, if you can. Be up front with people. It's the least you can do. Because going on the chase can be fun, but letting people chase when you know they'll never catch you is much worse than the truth. Nobody deserves anything less than the truth. No exceptions.
Artists these days face a relatively constant struggle between remaining true to their roots and blending in with main stream culture. Unless their roots are main stream culture, then the path from A to B is pretty straight forward. But in general, at least with much of the music I listen to, bands start out of a desire to do something different and to be on their own.
Young bands come out with a raw, unpolished sound and attitude that screams of 'you're never going to change us.' It can be this edge that drives bands to discovering a niche in in the industry enough to achieve mild to moderate success. This 'edge' doesn't have to be something hard or heavy. Bands of every genre don't usually assemble because they want to be just like someone else. Granted, there are groups of high school kids that pick up a guitar and think, 'someday, we're going to be the next Nickelback,' but honestly, I'm not worried about that group of unfortunate specimen that probably would have better impacted the world if a few sperm would have zigged left instead of right.
But the mass of the young people that pick up instruments, or sit down in front of them, ultimately want to burn their own path through the jungle that is modern music. And, as soon as they find their niche, as soon as they go from backyards and church stages to opening for nationwide tours, from friends as fans to fans as numbers, and everything else that comes along with the slightest stitch of fame, as soon as that switch happens, they get labeled as sellouts. Is that fair?
No.
Well, not always. Sure, some bands only want to make it big so they can, well, make it big. They want the perks that come with being famous, and will shed any sort of prior motivation skin in order to reach stardom. And in doing so, they have become the prototypical 'sellout.'
But consider everyone else. Whatever happened to maturing? To changing? To moving from something that you identified with when you were fifteen onto something that you can more appropriately call your own? So what if you stopped dying your hair and stopped wearing leather spiked bracelets. Maybe that wasn't what you ultimately saw yourself as.
Or maybe it's time to try something new. I recently read something about Tiger Woods. No, not that. But when asked the question of kinda 'what's next,' he replied that winning never gets old. In his mind, he could win 95 majors, but would still get excited about the 96th. For him, winning is all that matters. No more, no less. But not everyone is built like Tiger. Clearly. So sometimes it makes sense to make your claim in one genre, and try out something else. Maybe crossing genres and changing images and rebuilding an entire persona is more impressive than dominating the same field for decades. Sometimes, even your passion can get boring.
So before you slap the proverbial 'sellout' sticker on any icon in the music industry that makes more money now than they did when they were playing in front of high school crowds, consider the possibility that money may not be the only relevant variable in the equation. Even if it probably is...
My inspiration for this post:
Hot topic in the NFL: Concussions. More now than ever, players in the NFL are being treated seriously for concussions and even concussion like symptoms. All positions are susceptible, and all positions are feeling the effects of missing time on the field. This is disrupting fantasy football, Vegas lines, and most importantly, the actual games, playoffs, and ultimately, the champion. So what are we to make of this seemingly over-heightened sense of protection when it comes to matters of the mind? Well I know where I stand.
Football players for decades have played under the code of toughness. You ask anyone that played football before 1995 what happened after they got their bell rung, and all they wanted was the 'how many fingers am I holding up' question to be asked. That's the easiest one. It's not too hard to count fingers. But don't ask them what state they're in or what team they're playing, they probably couldn't answer. All they wanted was some proof that had consciousness so they could get back on the field. The repercussions of the injury were not even an afterthought, they were a no-thought. This was football. This was the sport of men. You didn't let some knock to your head keep you. Broken fingers? Tape them. Sprained ankles? Toughen up. This is how football was.
Well when we look some of those players now retired, is there any way that it was worth it? Guys had to relearn how to read. I was going to list a ton of the effects of concussions and do research on what players are suffering from what problems, but someone forgot how to read. Isn't that significant enough? Think about that for 10 minutes, if you get the chance. Your professional takes such a toll on your body that you are dumbed down to the level of a 1st grader. Seriously. A forty-five year old man can't read because he got hit in the head too much. And people in the world are still okay with this?
So my thoughts on this topic: If I ever have a son, I will do everything possible to prevent him from playing football. I played two years in high school. I had some helmet-to-helmet hits, I felt dazed a few times. Did it ruin my mind, long term? Probably not. I don't know if it had any ill-effects on my body or mind at all. But I only played two years. Never even played varsity. Is there any way that you would want your son, as tough as you think he is, going back on the field when the possibility for serious, long-term injury is severely heightened? Anyone, and I mean anyone, that would be okay rushing a player back onto the field after a concussion, is legitimately dumb. If your dad is some old-school football jock that played through more pain than infantries, then maybe he took one too many hits to the head. Because there isn't a job, sport, profession, or activity in the world that is worth risking someones ability to function at a basic human level when there were methods of prevention available.
It's the most, wonderful time, of the year..... right?
Ha! Christmas music falls on deaf ears with me. Holiday cheer? Bah humbug. Seasons greetings? Right here buddy. Oh holy night? Holy hell shut up! Let's buy things we don't need wrapped in expensive paper just to waste bows and ribbon and patience. Let's shop at 4 in the morning and cut people off in traffic and argue over parking spaces. Let's shop on Christmas eve because the perfect gift is more important than being with your loved ones. Whoooooo!
Okay, so there was some truth in that last paragraph. Some of it I believe in. And maybe all of it could have come out of my mouth in the last few years. But what's the cause for this social rebuttal? Just years and years of being stuffed full of purchased holiday spirit, gift wrapped and hand signed? Maybe? Maybe it's the same reasons why i kinda poo-pooed on Valentines Day and Thanksgiving... It doesn't seem to out of reach for me. But it wouldn't be me if I didn't look at the other side. So that's what I'm going to do.
Aside from the psychotic parents that believe their kids' love can be purchased from Toys R Us, and aside from the annoying coworkers that drizzle 'Seasons Greetings' cards to half the office in the first week of December, and aside from 4am shoppers and Christmas Eve shoppers and Christmas Day shoppers, and aside from cheap, barely functioning appliances and electronics that probably aren't even that good of a deal, even at the low low price of $299, aside from all of that, this really is a special time of year, as long as it is approached with the right attitude.
If you put all of those 'asides' aside, what's the harm in getting caught up in the holiday spirit? It's finally a time of the year that people tend to act with a little more random kindness. It's a time when you think to get a gift for someone that you appreciate them, since no other time of the year is deemed acceptable by our culture. It's a time to take children imaginations to a new extreme, and to keep their senses scintillated with winter decorations and Christmas collaborations. It's a time to pass down family traditions, family recipes, and family ornaments. It's a time to not get mad when someone cuts you off in traffic. It's a time to rejoice in the relationships you have built outside of your family. Work. Friends. Etc. We get to be nice, and not have to have a reason. We get to donate money without looking at our checking account. We get to wear Santa hats and goofy sweaters without judgment. We get to spoil the ones we care about. We get to welcome new members into a family. We get to relive memories of Christmas pasts, immersing ourselves in the pure elation felt when we opened our first board game. Our first gaming system. Bike. Baseball Bat. We get to see family again. Drink hot chocolate. Eat well. Sleep better. For my friends, we get to continue traditions we've started. And for the rest of us, we get to get caught up in a season that reminds us how much good there can be in this country (this sounds a little too much like what Baseball does for America in Field of Dreams... Oh, people will come Ray. People will most definitely come.).
So, has this scrooge been cured? I think it's safe to say my disinterest in the holiday season never settled too deep into my skin, but now, based on what I know, who I have in my life, and where I see my life going, this time of year, above other holidays or seasons or months, but today, and the next 3 or so weeks, represent something more than a holiday. This time represents a state of mind that should make life a little better to live. So before you reject it, try to embrace it. Sometimes, its not worth it to fight what can be inherently good.
Oh, and its December, so I allow myself to watch Love Actually...
'I will try, to pour all of myself, into this life, before I die.'
This week I went to the House of Blues to see Chimaira and Trivium. Trivium flies under my radar as having put out two of my favorite CDs of all time. It was a pleasure to finally see them live, and ultimately had a blast at the show. But the reason for this post is the lyric that I have quoted above. The lyric is from the song, 'Into the Mouth of Hell we March.' A charming little number on their album, Shogun. So here's my short, inspiration piece on the topic.
Coaches often tell their players to 'leave everything on the field.' That means to risk life and limb, scratching, clawing, and grasping at every inch possible during the game, leaving your body deteriorated and your mind exhausted, in hopes that even if you lose, you will not only be satisfied with your effort, but you will be able to walk off the field, or court, or ice, whatever, and get back to living. If there was nothing more you could have done, then what is there to feel bad about? You won't have anything rattling around in your head. You won't be kept up at night with nightmares about missed opportunities or mental breakdowns. You will have either won the contest because you and your team was better, or you will have lost the contest because you and your team wasn't better. Either way, you should be proud of your effort and accept the result.
Another cliche is calling this thing we live 'the game of life.' And I don't think life is a game. I don't think there's anything to 'figure out.' There's no right way to live. There are no answers. No cheat codes. No level skipping. But while life is not a game, life CAN be compared to a game in the same way I described above. And this is a pretty common idea of 'living life to the fullest' and all that junk. But I'm going beyond living life to the fullest. You can live a full life without ever 'leaving it all on the field.' And that's the motivation I have. In the same way that I walk away from a workout feeling completely exhausted, like I couldn't run an extra tenth of a mile, or I couldn't do one more set of lifts, or round of crunches, that's the same feeling I want when I'm nearing my end.
Obviously, there are times in your daily life that 'pouring' all of yourself into this life isn't logical or possible, so don't just try to poke holes in my logic. I understand that this is a blanket statement that doesn't always apply. But I see this in a slightly different light. This doesn't mean you need to give 100% of your effort into everything you do. But when it comes down to it, you need to sacrifice a part of yourself. Break off a little chunk. A quote I have referenced before says 'the only gift is a portion of thyself.' And maybe that's my point. At the end of your time here, when you look back, what did you leave for the rest of the world? How soon will you be forgotten? This digital inner monologue gone public is one of my attempts to create something that will live forever. But when it's all said and done, I want to be able to say that there are little pieces of me scattered throughout the world. And even though I might not be around, people, places and events in time will continue to carry who I am, what I believed in, and what I influenced.
So leave it all on the field. You won't only walk away with a clear mind, but you'll leave the field a better, more inspired place for others to tread.
So, thanksgiving is next week. A time of the year when family members from around the country meet to share food, memories, drinks, and awkward family occurrences, and to give thanks for all the things we've taken for granted. We wish for health, we give thanks for the food, and we toast to another year. Some of my most vivid childhood memories are from my grandparents house on Thanksgivings, watching the Lions play football, eating peanuts, watching the adults drink whiskey sours, the kitchen show being run by my grandma, my cousin and I playing with his massive amount of G.I. Joes on my grandma's ancient T.V., and days and days of food. That last sentence has me all reminiscing and sentimental. Which will be the last time that happens in this post.
Maybe I'm bitter because 90% of my family lives in either Florida, Arizona, California, or Hawaii. Maybe hearing about everyone else's family parties has turned me into a cold rainy day in November. Maybe the idea of family holidays are lost. And maybe that's why I feel this way. I don't have family parties (mom, if you read this, don't get upset. I'm just making a point). Our family parties consist of the same 5 people that are together 1 or 2 Sundays a month anyway. We're not doing anything special. Turkey instead of sausage... okay. But the nostalgia of Thanksgiving, and every holiday really, is gone. Dead. That's not to say I don't love spending time with my family, but for now, thanksgiving seems like a sham.
We're not giving thanks for the same things that were being celebrated several hundred years ago. Times have changed, so have we. Give thanks every day to the things that make your life better. Don't wait until a hogwash holiday to finally recognize that there are things in your life to be thankful for. Don't wait until your entire family is in the same house, in ugly sweaters, to tell them all how you feel. Yeah, if you want to save late November as the only time of the year to travel, fine, I'm glad you all could make it. But be with your family more often than the holidays. Even if that means calling them, writing them, or sending them something. You can stay connected now easier than ever, so start. Don't get me wrong, this is a challenge to me as much as it is to anyone who reads this.
For those that love the holiday, this isn't a slight to you. If your family gathers everyone up, grandparents to grand kids, and you have the same joyous get togethers that linger in the back of my memory, I am jealous. If you need to use Thanksgiving as the excuse to get everyone together, then so be it.
But don't say you're celebrating Thanksgiving. Give thanks every day, appreciate every day, love your family, and always keep them in your thoughts. We shouldn't need a holiday for that, should we? Celebrate that.
I don't know who these people are. Thanks Google Images!
"'Men lie, women lie, numbers don't" (Jay-Z: The Blueprint 3; Reminder). Well I am here to say that numbers, stats, findings, recordings, charts, graphs, tables, they all distort views like kaleidoscopes. It is my belief that you can twist and angle any set of data to either help make your point or hurt it. There are so many tricks to manipulating information that it's amazing that anyone falls for the revelations some of them unveil.
Jay-Z has released 11 studio albums. Jay-Z has 11 number 1 albums. He just passed Elvis. That number doesn't lie.
Well from the onset, sure. Eleven times, his CD has reached number one on the charts. But we're comparing him to the rest of the world right? The rest of history. Some might say that because of this number, Jay-Z is the most successful, most popular artist of all time. But there is no way to compare. You're talking about different times of the world. Times when people didn't buy music because they didn't have the means to play it. People that had different interests than music. People that had to deal with World Wars. People that didn't go to college where music tastes are passed around faster than herpes. Barely. And now and days, there are so many more genres, artists of other kinda of music can't compete. Careers don't seem to last as long. Fads come and go. And maybe all of that is a testament to Jay-Z, that he picked the right road and endured what others could not. And he may very well be the most successful musical artist of all time. But don't you tell me that it's because the amount of number 1 records he has.
Just look at how many other stats that are looked at where you can't rule out the factor of variables. Only scientific experiments that eliminate the variables can be trusted.
Sports Stats
Baseball:
Batting Average: Depends on number of at bats, what league you're in, what team you're on, where you play, who your opponents are, what the weather is like, how strong your bats are, what way the wind is blowing, etc.
Runs Batted In: Depends on how often your teammates get in scoring position, where you hit in the lineup, how many outs there are, in addition to everything else that I mentioned with batting average.
Football:
Yards per Carry: Depends on your offensive line, the team you're playing, the league you're in, where you play, what the weather is like, what the field is made out of, etc.
Receptions: Depends on the defenders, the quarterback, the weather conditions, the time of the game, plus everything from the previous one.
Golf:
Strokes: Depends on the time of day, the amount of wind. You could take the exact same shot, same motion, same speed, same percentage of the ball hit, and it will do different things every time. Why? Well because it would be very rare for the air to be identical every single shot. So even non-team sports lace in factors that influence the purity of stats.
Movie Stats
Highest Grossing Film of All Time
Most Tickets Sold of All Time
Highest Opening WeekendMost Rented
ETC
All of these, even when 'adjusted for inflation,' still don't consider social times, economic times, and just times in general (think woman's rights, African American rights, etc.). Can you ever compare movies between decades, between genres, between mediums? Way too many variables.
Work Stats
A new program is started that is supposed to decrease the number of mistakes. Well how will you know if the program is working? By monitoring the number of mistakes, silly! Less mistakes = program successful. But what if the people are just trying a little harder? Maybe someone gave the team a pep-talk. Maybe there was a new hire that's skewing all the results. Maybe a new kind of problem is arising, causing what seems to be more mistakes.
I only gave you a handful of examples, but there really are a countless number of things I could have shown you. What I should have done is find a stat to tell me how many stats are actually inaccurate. But, even that would be inaccurate. So to draw this all back into the big picture, stats can be used to mislead and misrepresent, so as is the case with all scenarios, situations, hassles, or every day occurrences, it is always encouraged to dig a little deeper than the surface, see if you can find out the facts for yourself, and make your own decision, not what someone is trying to sell you on.
A friend of mine recently proposed a conundrum: "Is it bad that because I have such high ambition I'm never happy with what I actually have cuz its no where close to where I want to be?"
This disconnect is really hard for me to wrap my head around, so let's see what comes out.
Two very distinct ways of approaching life resonate on this topic: Never stop pursuing what you dream. / Be content with what you have. Can these two ever survive in the same life?
The first one: Big house. Fast cars. Toys. Gadgets. Clothes. The life that the world tells us we should have. And the life that the world tells us we can have, if we never give up our dreams. Never stop believing in yourself. Never give anything but your full effort, and there's nothing you can't accomplish. Why, if you want that Ferrari, then just keep practicing those free throws, or selling that stock, or pushing those papers, because one day, alllll that effort and alllll that hard work will pay off, and you'll be staring at the life you've always dreamed of, right? HELL YEAH! Who can fault anyone that has that ambition? Who can look at someone that says 'I want to climb this ladder faster than anyone else, I want to be the best one here, and I want to make a name for myself,' and think that they are wrong? Striving to be everything you think you can be is an admirable trait. It's not something that everyone possesses. It shows signs of leadership, determination, passion. It is seemingly flawless, right? Well, assuming you're okay sacraficing friends, family, hobbies, and time for yourself in order to pump in hours and efforts focused towards a goal that you don't get to enjoy if you're constantly looking at the next step.
The second one: A simple life. The necessities. Finding the good in the bad and the big in the small. Living the life that will continue to make you happy despite job, money, and any other extra amenity that fills out our lives, relying instead on inmaterial objects of love, compassion, and an appreciation for the gift of life. Well hell, that sounds perfect right? A simple life of long summer days in the fields and slow fall nights in the rain and long winter evenings by the fire place and fast spring days in the garden. Nature becomes your best friend. Well, and friends. You waste time telling stories instead of seeing movies. You make projects for rebuilding the downtrodden instead of buying the newest gadget. You don't even bat an eye if someone nicks your car, it would just add character, not add an ulcer. There's no need to DVR 18 different shows a week to see which fake life is more important. You don't even have to be caught up in the news. Your freedoms flow as far as your happiness, and nothing that you have can be taken away by a bank. Well, that's all fine and dandy if you're okay be a lazy bum that doesn't plan for the future and can't provide the means for future generations of education and a life that gives them options.
So is the answer balance? Probably. But how?
Well I don't really know how. But if you are hell bent on this fast-paced, shiny object, fancy clothes lifestyle of high price tags and swank parties, you need to do whatever you can to appreciate what you already have. And if you're a moseying member of society that doesn't mind trucking down the gravel road at a pace slow enough to make out shapes in the clouds, then don't be surprised if you get passed by some hot shot doin 80 in his new benz, because he can probably pay the bills, even if most of them are credit card bills. If you're never striving for the next level, then there's never room for evolution, for progression, a path to lead the masses above their current situation. You'd be living a life with a ceiling too low to grow to full potential.
So while playing the first level of Super Mario Brothers over and over and over and over and over and over again might be fun, it should make you want to go further. But every time you beat a level, the FIRST reaction shouldn't be to beat the next level, but take some time to appreciate your accomplishments. Life can't be lived only looking forward or only looking back. The present is an amazing place to be. Try it out for a while. You might find you like it here.
So this weekend marks the return of a holiday that started well over 2000 years ago which resonates among our society with more fever than H1N1 (See how I'm keeping this current). So what's the lure of this horror-driven holiday? Well there's lots. And for this writer, October 31st always seems to play a trick. Read for explanation.
So Halloween gives every a chance to be a kid again. More so than any other holiday. There comes a time when you stop trick or treating, but there never really comes a time when you stop dressing up, hosting costume parties, drinking 'blood punch,' eating some candy, and celebrating a time to act stupid and childish and gleefully careless. This should be appealing to most people. This should be something to look forward to, and plan for, and take to a bit of an extreme that isn't usually encouraged on any other day of the year. It gives us a chance to dress up as things that maybe we weren't allowed to do when we were younger. Your mind allows you to be more creative. It's more than just your parents suggesting things for you to be based on the old clothes and props you have around the house. And you don't have to be the saddest clown ever. [Insert picture of me from 1989] So go be that seductive vampire, go be a pimp from Oakland, or a disheveled librarian, and have fun with it. Be childish again. Take your kids trick or treating, make them feel its all about them, then tuck them in and go be young and careless. It might be worth it.
I'm not to this point yet. I'm caught between dressing up for fun and dressing up to reclaim my childhood. I'm more in the dressing up because I want to look sweet at the bars. But it usually doesn't take much planning, effort, and usually doesn't let me reclaim any of my childhood memories. More times than not it just makes it harder for me to drink with some awkward costume on...
The other draw of Halloween for the adult world is the opportunity for an escape from their every day lives. Once you enter the working world, most likely, you spend most of your time trying to get away. Vacations. Holidays. Etc. Well what better way to get away than to change your identity and pretend to be someone or something else for a night? Halloween is the layman's version of those saucy ballroom masquerades, where the lack of knowing who you're talking to only extenuates your senses and exaggerates your excitement. It is that relative feeling of uneasy scintillation that allows people to experience something that they may only get once a year. Even if the interaction is only with your partner, it still adds an element of mystery and deceit that can provide such an escape from the drudge of 9-5, mon-fri that it warrants legitimately looking forward to.
This doesn't get me either. More times than not, girls are wearing less and less, and trust me, there is no mistaking their identity. And I don't know if I've ever had a costume where people legitimately didn't know who I was. So that whole masquerading and sneaking around is once again, let's just drink with costumes on...
So based on this, I never look forward to Halloween anymore. It's always a let down. I was never one to go over the top on my costume, never really let myself go, and never walked away thinking that the night's experience was worth any of the time, effort, or thought that I put into my costume. So what's the point? Well I'm not sure. But for the weeks leading up to October 31st, I never get too excited. I downplay the day, I express my concern, I never get too excited for a costume, and generally I look forward to Columbus day more than Halloween. Until about October 30th, coincidentally today. Then my black and orange blood gets flowing, my costume is all taken care of, and instead of grabbing pillow cases of candy, I will go forth and collect pints of beer. I hope you all do the same and enjoy this chance to be dumb without responsibilities (no one will know it's you!)
So there's this H1N1 scare going around. For lack of caring, I'm not going to do any research. These are just some of my thoughts that have surfaced since the rise of this pandemic about our country's general approach to heal and American health care.
Based on my experiences, and maybe ones with infants aside, but people have this knee jerk reaction when their body is threatened (to clarify, this is not 'Swine Flu' specific). So when there is any hint of infection, viral or bacterial, the first line of defense comes over the counter. Actually, beyond infections - any issue - there has to be some pill, or drug, or drink that you can take, pop, or chug in an attempt to cure those 'problems.' Whatever happened to taking accountability? Our bodies are magnificent structures of unimaginable capabilities. But all I see are people finding some sort of composite, artificial, manufactured, structured, calculated, programmed, organized, or specialized temporary 'solutions to whatever ails them.
Well maybe it's my masochistic nature of wanting to and appreciating the pain my body endures, or maybe it's my desire to be my own solution to my apparent problems, but doesn't it seem like a cop out? Like Rocky realizes in his agonizing drive before deciding to travel to Russia to face Drago in Rocky IV, 'there's no easy way out, there's no short cut home.' Because if you don't address your issue now, face up, and deal with it IN REALITY, then all you're doing is suppressing it. Just because you're relieving pain doesn't mean you're curing it. Just because you're minimizing swelling doesn't mean you're fixing the joint. Just because you're numbing the pain, doesn't mean you still don't have it. Just because you're sucking down an energy drink doesn't mean your body is revitalized. Just because this country tells you that in two easy payments of 19.95, your problems can be solved, doesn't mean they solve anything. Your health, mental and physical, should be taken care of naturally. Maybe that force field that people build around themselves won't be so vulnerable to a common cold. Get some dirt under your nails. Leave part of your body unsanitary. It might help set you free, and probably keep you a little stronger and healthier. And if not, at the end of the day, at least you trusted your body. Isn't that a decision you can live with?
When you invest your money, you expect a return. If your cost was more than your gain, this is usually considered a failure. There are times when you take the hit for the better of the company, but generally cost < gain.
Because we're dumb. Well, at least I am. Stick with me for a while. This is deeeefinitely not a black and white topic, but I want to explore it for a while.
So if what we would all do as business owners is to be calculated, why don't we apply the same tactics to the things that matter the most, like our well-being, our state of mind, our heart? Where is our return on investment with matters of the heart? Where, when we sink innumerable hours and days and weeks of time and thought and dreams and wishes and hopes and tears into people, is our return on investment then? Why, through phone calls and emails and texts and dinners, do we forget about the quality of life compared to the nature of the investment. What will it take for me to look at the logical side of the equation. Whatever happened to making decisions, not just 'having feelings?' People (yes, people) say they can't control how they feel. You see someone, you begin to like them your enjoy their shortcomings, your pursue, you wait, to bait, you do everything in your consciousness to place yourself in their good graces, hoping that one day, this magical gift will one day pay off.
Bull. 'Can't control how you feel.' Ha! I believe you can. I believe quite matter-of-factly that you can.
And I believe it was a decision in the first place that made you pursue. Sure, your heart, or more accurately your eyes, will get you started in that direction. But you still stop at the end of the day and think, 'yes,' I want to continue this pursuit... 'yes' this makes sense to me... 'yes' I will allow this to continue... 'yes' my thoughts will be occupied... 'yes' I'm in.
So why can't you stop that? Because your heart says this person is the right one? Apparently not. You hear about stories of one person 'chasing' someone for years, always waiting, biding time, and hoping that one day, things will work out. And then they do. How can that possibly be a mutually invested relationship?? What's the equation end up being? Well that doesn't quite work, since the scale is probably weighted. If, after all that time, the relationship will make you eternally happy, then the profit will always outweigh the gain. But that's only if that relationship makes you eternally happy.
Don't you think there might be some thought of 'why did it take this long? did you just explore every other option and settle on me?' Are those questions EVER worth asking? Is it ever worth feeling like someone that you have pined for, simply settled on you because you were the safe bet. The safety valve. The dump off pass against top notch defensive backs. Everyone down field is covered, the quarterback finally feels the pressure, rolls out, scrambles, and finally sees the one person that never strayed too far away...
Now where's your Return on Investment? Now how many decisions were made 'for' your heart? Now how are you sleeping at night?
There comes a time when your mind can overpower your heart. I'm not saying always. There are times when your heart, undeniably strong, can take over. But your heart doesn't have eyes. So as blind as love is, so are mistakes in love. Maybe it takes some logical sight to help keep your head above water. To cut your losses. To find a better deal. And in the matter of people, to find a 1/1 ratio of investment to return, since after all, we're not a business. We're a group of beings that should be more concerned with love. So while we will stumble into devastating losses that no business manager would approve, the good and the bad, the easy and the difficult, will hopefully one day prepare you for gaining every ounce that you invested, a mutual partnership, and one that gives your heart, and mind, every nutrient needed to thrive.
So I just turned 24. 8766 days. 8768 now... A week ago, it was 8761. The difference between 23 and 24 ranges from 1 day and 729 days. Numbers can't quantify us. There is no formula. There are no distinct benchmarks. There is no path from a to z. Nothing gets handed to us at a certain age. Except maybe a driver's license. So then why do we put any importance on age?
I wrote about this 4 months ago. The point was not to relive this topic. The point was to explore the topic of maturity and responsibility. Because those two things are completely linked and honestly, I think those two topics are forgotten in today's world.
I already have a premonition that I won't be able to voice my true opinion on this topic. And this will come off as ranty and bitchy. But this has been on my mind for a while now, so here it comes.
Responsibility comes in all shapes and sizes. Moral responsibility. Social responsibility. Financial responsibility. And maturity is also something that's relatively diverse and fluid. But there seems to be a void in our society when these topics come up. And while I struggle mightily to write this, and I can't place my theory into a realistic context, my hunch is that at the root of this festering lack of maturity and responsibility is an unprecedented rise in selfishness.
So maybe that's where the disconnect is. Maybe that's where I find myself meeting people and talking to people that have taken the proper steps in their life to act like an adult, but they still don't. People have lost the instinct to help others. We're all so preoccupied with blackberrys and iphones and the crisp speed of life that we've lost our connection to the rest of the world.
And maybe this is why I am having such a hard time getting out a functional, flowing thought on this topic. This is on the verge of the culmination of much of what I've written about already. This is part of my plea for people to stay connected, with friends and strangers, to offer a face instead of a name. This is part of my explanation of slowing down life and appreciating the simple details that are so often over looked. This is part of my sadistic nature of the internet. My masochistic way of living. This is part of my zodiac symbol being a scale, attempting to live a balanced life. And this is a huge part of the changes I took on in the end of college and the beginning parts of my adult life. To put others before myself. To rise above the little things. 'The ability to let that which doesn't matter truly slide.' And maybe my purpose was, and is to get people to open their eyes. Maybe I'll figure it out a little more and paint a little clearer picture. For now, I just needed to get some of these things out there. Next step might be a plan of action...
This weekend marks something as well. On Sunday, I will officially cash in my chips on the experiment that was 947 W. Newport Ave, Apt 2E. Hold on, the train's going by. But here's a look at my thoughts about the last twelve months, my first twelve months out from under the roof of my parents.
The Move:
It was exciting. The Cubs were in the playoffs. The city was buzzing. The weather was still nice. We had plenty of people helping, so it went fast. And for the first time I wasn't just moving into a dorm or furnished apartment. When we starting dragging stuff up those spiraling stairs, we were walking into an empty canvas for us. I mean, what's not exciting about your first place after college? Hold on, train again.
The First Months:
These were also exciting. We took every opportunity to explore the area, even if that meant going to the same bars over and over. We went out to dinner a lot. Sat on our roof a lot. Entertained often. Drank too much. But all we did was get comfortable. We hosted an unbelievably successful Thanksgiving dinner for our friends. We got to be regulars at two different bars. We never wasted weekends. And we found out how it would be living with each other. We had the summer to really hang out, but as everyone knows, just because you're friends doesn't always mean you can be roommates. Luckily in this situation, things pretty much worked out.
The Middle Months:
If the first months were when we got 'comfortable,' the middle months was where we found our groove. Just like a pitcher on the mound, you spend a few innings just getting your stride right, but it's those middle innings when you put it on cruise control and coast. This is what the middle months meant to me. This is when I decided to go grocery shopping on a regular basis. I started making my lunch every day and sticking with it. I made a lot more dinners, even if half those dinners were frozen meals. The weather kept us even closer to our place, so we really escalated to the 'regulars' status. Got to know owners, get free drinks, light tabs, etc... And these middle months were the same ones that really tested us as roommates. It's all fine and dandy when you're running around outside, making plans and having fun. But through the pits of winter in Chicago, your energy level and overall desire to leave your place drops considerably. If I was doubting whether or not we could comfortably live together, this stretch of time proved to me that we could. And we did. And we hosted more parties, played more beer pong, bought more beer, and hibernated with the rest of the Chicagoans.
The Last Months:
Just like the final innings of a complete game, these last months, the summer months, were an absolute bear, but offered enough excitement and drama to last a long time. Summer in Chicago should be experienced by everyone at least once in their life. I really extended myself. I can't even begin to list everything that occurred during the final months at our place. There were weeks in July, August, and September where I had plans every night of the week. I wanted to take every opportunity to go do something fun. I even started getting out of my neighborhood for chrissake. I experienced a little of the loop; a little of wicker park, of bucktown, of north center. We abused our rooftop. We abused our livers. We went on weekend vacations that required a vacation from our vacations. I sacrificed sleep for a stretch of time that I could look back on and be completely satisfied. You know, the whole 'I want to look back and say that I did I the best I could while I was stuck in this place. Had as much fun as I could while I was stuck in this place' type shit. I wanted to take nothing for granted. Call me on my 'night off' and invite me to do something, what the hell, why not? Even if the weather here never let us know that we even had a summer, I can definitely say that I did, since I characterize summer by a state of mind, not the height of the mercury. But through all of this, we still couldn't open our windows. Train's gone by 7 times since I last reported.
The Transition:
I pretty much figured that we wouldn't be keeping this place when our lease expired, but I never thought I would be this excited to get the fudge out of dodge. We decided to change gears, took an apartment in a different neighborhood, a quieter one, a nicer one. We 'sacrificed' a rooftop deck for a backyard and a garage. 'Sacrificed' drinking establishments for trees. 'Sacrificed' being in the middle of it all for quiet neighbors with free street parking. Big bedrooms for a decent night's sleep. Party palace for new floors. More square footage for an in unit washer/dryer. The point is, Aside from maybe the rooftop deck, I don't really see any of these as an actual sacrifice. While I'm still 23 (yes, I know. 24 in 2 weeks...), and I'm not saying that I've already given up the life I lead for the last twelve months, I'm really happy about this step. This step towards maturity and adulthood. This realization that 'sacrificing' a crazy party area with rooftop view of Wrigley Field for a place you can be honestly proud to show off was important for me. Again, we all know I'm still going to drink my face off once in a while, that's not the point. I guess what I'm saying is I was ready for this kind of change, and I'm excited to welcome the lifestyle effects it will have.
The Conclusion:
I would like to say I left my mark on Wrigleyville. For the people I've met in my first year here, for the bartenders that continued to take care of me, for the strangers that peed next to my car, whatever. I leave here with no regrets. Our place was... nice. The location was... nice. My experiences here... unforgettable (and at times unrememberable). So if you had the chance to be a part of 947 W. Newport Ave, thank you. Through it all, it treated us well. And a part of me will always miss the place, my first out-of-my-parents-house post-college apartment, but in every sense of the phrase, I am ready to move on. I'm ready to close the game, throw my last pitch, get the final out, knowing there's another game waiting just around the corner for me.
Well Tuesday night marked the end of my 2009 Cubs season. I had to keep mild interest in the weeks leading up to the tickets I purchased 6 months ago, but now that I have gone to my last game of the season, I can officially say that I am in the 'wait til next year' mode, as sad as it is to say. So here on my thoughts on the 2009 Cubs season, for all it was worth.
The expectations for this year were the highest that I can remember. Every year I'm alive, I get a little more of the Cubs history, and the feeling of what it means to be dedicated to a season. At the turn of high school, and the passing of college, and the beginning of my trek as an adult, sports become more and more of a crutch. And each year, I learn more, I research more, and I pay more attention. So besides the fact that we were two time defending National League Central Division Champions with supposed added artillery, I was also more aware of what the organization was doing. My investment began the day last season ended. The sting of what the Dodgers did to us got me even more involved than ever before.
If anyone who isn't a big baseball fan reads this, this is a hard notion to explain. Other sports fan, or 'American Idol' fans, or any other way that people find to spend their time, baseball has a whole different set of baggage. You're talking about a team that plays 162 times over a 6 month span, before playoffs even start. When basketball ends and hockey ends and football hasn't started yet, there's baseball. The time spent and emotional investment that goes into a season is truly grueling. Add games to sports center, around the horn, PTI, baseball tonight, and sports talk radio on the Score 670 and ESPN 1000, and baseball can consume someone more than Twitter consumed the world. So that's what I mean by investment.
So with all those expectations and investments, this season was the most disappointing I have come across. There was drama, but no excitement. Every two weeks someone got hurt. Egos flared. We had a coach tell a player 'you're not a ballplayer, you're a piece of shit.' Wrigley has never booed that loud. The fans have never cared that much. And I can't say the players have never played that poorly, but we all know the Cubs teams of the 90's were far worse. Hell the 2009 Cubs are still over .500 and in second place. But in the 90's, they weren't doing it with a $140 million payroll. They weren't coming off back to back division titles for the first time in decades. They were hungry. And they didn't have the weight of the city on their backs.
This is still a good team. I actually believe, with a few minor changes, that this will be a very competitive team next year. They should finish in the top 4 of the National League next year and challenge for a playoff spot, even with the pitiful attempt at this season. The reason I believe this isn't because I'm a helpless Cubs fan that calls into the score, claiming if the Cubbies go 15-5 during the remaining 20, and the Rockies go 7-10, they will tie for the Wild Card. I'm not that guy. And that actually happened. But the expectations of ALL Cubs fans, die hard or drunk, new or tourists, they ALL want the Cubs to win NOW.
But the truth is, 29 teams finish the year as failures. I don't need a World Series to brag about. I just want a team to play up to its expectations, to have fun when they do it, to be good teammates, to enjoy playing in Chicago, to respect the game and play it the way its supposed to be played. If they do that every year. If they forget how much money they make and just play ball, then I will always be a Cubs fan. I don't know how likely that is...
"Pearly lips and cherry wine
Moonshine in your hair
Just keep staring at the sun
Pray for summer's end"
Foo fighters. Find me someone that genuinely dislikes the foo Fighters and I'll show you someone that is angry for no reason. But this isn't about Foo. This is about a line in one of their songs from their most recent CD that used to bother me. I love the song, but the lyrics bothered me for so long. I once followed my brother's friend's band, at one point named Summer's End. I had a Summer's End patch clothes-pinned to my backpack. But I still disliked the idea of the end of summer. Summer's end evokes such a saddened and melancholy feeling that I reject the very notion of it. Summer is bliss. Summer is the little boy or girl in all of us. The season pool passes and bike rides and vacations. And no school. Even us working folk feel like school's out for the summer when June comes around. I can't think of one legitimate negative for the days between the summer and fall solstice. Except black leather cars. But seriously, this is one of the easiest sells. Summer: Buy in. Okay!! Yet after all of that, all the boat rides and long weekends, the short skirts and long nights, I can honestly say that I am ready for summer to end.
Now I don't believe that Dave Grohl's words really correspond to my place in the world. Mainly because I don't know what pearly lips look like. But after my recent trip to New York City, I also am praying for summer's end. This has been one of the more memorable summers in my life. Which doesn't say a whole lot, since none of my previous summers were really too memorable. But over the last 3 months, I feel like I've lived a year. My first summer on my own, in the city, with a rooftop deck. I can't even begin to round out a list of events and happenings that encompassed my summer. But I did achieve my goal: Don't waste it. I don't think I let two days go by without *something* to do. I forced plans when there weren't any. I booked my days weeks in advance. I did what i could to piggy back plans so i could cram more into one night. I met new people and went on new adventures. I didn't sleep enough and went out too often. I put summer into a juicer and squeezed it for every drop it had. And I loved about 98% of it (sans Black Wednesday). And after all of that being said, I can still honestly say that I am ready for summer to end.
Now I get to nestle into a time of cooler weather and relaxed mindsets. I will be in a new apartment in less than three weeks, and will have time to spend in my new place. I will have a new neighborhood to explore and enjoy. I will have writing time to increase. I will have a new bed that I will look forward to getting a chance to lay in. I will have an in-unit washer/dryer, so I might be doing laundry twice a week. Mainly, I get to slow down. It will soon be full blown recovery mode. I'll be taking a lesson from the bears. Not those bears. The ones that hibernate to restore the body and avoid the cold. But speaking of those bears, I get to have lazy Sundays of watching football. I get to give my wallet a break. Give my body a break. My mind a break. (I shouldn't be so self-centered, you all get to do this too, but stay with me). And so after all of this, I believe, even though we're still 10 days away from the summer officially being over, I'm ready to throw in the towel.
But after all THAT being said, I'm about 8 weeks away from wanting Old Navy flip flops and Bud Light Lime......
(Funny story: I listened to 'Summer's End by Foo Fighters the entire time I wrote this.)
So I just got back from three nights and four days in New York City. The city that never sleeps. Pretty close.
I'm not going to run down a list of events or even the sequence that things happened. Frankly because it would be hard to remember. But there are a few thoughts I can share about my first trip to the biggest city in our country.
First of all: Lots of cabs. Seriously, like 80-90% cabs. Crazy cabs. Everywhere. And they take credit cards. It's not even worth owning a car. You walk. Sometimes. Usually its cab, or sometimes subway. I guess it makes sense, when you lay it all out, but I was just a little shocked.
Second: Big. Manhattan covers more ground than I thought I could cross in one night. The traveling we did during the day, fine. Some sightseeing, some subway rides, a Mets game, whatever. But looking at the connect the dots between the few nights we went out, the place we stayed, sources of food, and everywhere else we touched... I was blown away.
And that wasn't the only way it was big. When you get ~5 miles north of the loop in Chicago, roaming around Wrigleyville, the tallest building is, well, Wrigley field (sans lakefront condos). But in Manhattan, specifically miles away from some of the hottest and busiest places in the city where my friend lived on the Upper West Side, you'd be hard-pressed to find a building less than 5 stories. The majority of them are twice the size. Everything goes up. Everything. You feel small everywhere you go.
Third: There was a notion of being slightly larger than life there. Now, bear with me. I didn't walk with any added importance, mainly because I was either too drunk to pay attention, or I was in a cab. But there was an aspect of New York that I only saw on TV, which was all of it. It seemed there were traces of fame at every turn. Like I was treading on notorious ground. There was a history. A nostalgia. Something palpable on the streets that I don't feel in Chicago. I hate describing non-real things, but that's all I can really say.
Lastly: It's fast. I came from the suburbs to the city. The city of Chicago is fast compared to the burbs. New York = faster. In every way.
And with all that, give me Chicago every day of the week and twice on Sunday. This weekend was one of the most fun and memorable weekends I've ever had. Top 5 all time. Seriously. But it felt great to be home.
I seem to know a lot of quotes in relation to this topic. But my goal isn't to give you those. Look them up yourself. But after another bout with restlessness amounting in a horrid night of lack of sleep, I realized that is it time for a change.
While my last month begins along side the rattling, screeching tracks of the EL, I am choosing not to choose public transportation as a source for my nightmares and gappy sleep. I may be proven wrong come October, but we'll see about that.
And with the turn of a new lease bringing an early birthday gift from my parents, I am also choosing not to blame my less than comfortable, squeaking, sagging bed. It may very well change my sleeping patterns, but that isn't what I want to focus on. (I realize that the combination of a new bed and no train eliminates the 'control' for the ensuing experiment. But this isn't science class. This is my life. So any success will be welcomed.)
So ignoring the train (ha) and bed, I addressed something that has been a relative constant in my life, thus a problem that will not change with my residence or nightly resting place. I have an active mind. It's fast paced. It's a product of our generation. It's a product of high speed internet and immediate text messages. My generation has an attention span that can only be measured in nanoseconds. And all that training keeps my thoughts rolling through more often than the locomotives at Belmont Station. When I lay awake, and I've said this before, my thoughts plague me. Things I wanted to say but didn't. Situations that get played out in my head. Scary influences from TV shows or movies (Side note, I'm sick of watching True Blood before bed. Messed up 'dreams.') Blasts from the past. Jarring conversations. Extreme heat. Everything. These things follow one after another. a high turnover rate procession of jagged images and upsetting thoughts that do their best to keep me awake. My brain is too active for my body to rest. This past Sunday was the worst. And so it lead me to try and fix this. Here's what I came up with.
I have been reduced to laying on my back, repeating long inhales through my nose followed by slow exhales through my mouth, trying to, and I quote, 'find my breath.' It's Always Sunny fans, rejoice. This is what I found on the 'internet' and was the closest mixture of yoga, meditation, zen, and humorous TV show references that I could scrounge up. My way of doing this was to actually imagine air particles as something of color that you can see. And I imagined these little green particles entering my nasal cavity, flowing down the back of my esophagus, and circulating into my lungs. Then I watched those particles calmly exit my body and disperse in front of my face. I felt better. I felt relaxed. And I slept better. I still had a long, complicated dream involving old friends, upcoming events, and people still on my mind, but at least I wasn't too tired when I woke up. And it wasn't a nightmare that startled me awake. I guess that's a good start. Maybe in October, I'll finally be able to enjoy a full night's sleep.
This weather blows. Besides that...
I have lots to write about. And I've taken some good notes. Lots of ideas flowing. Just don't quite have enough time to dedicate to a fully flushed out post. I promised I would be better in August than I was in July. And I lied. But to be honest, I've been filling my nights with people and experiences, combined with looking for a new apartment, so free time is currently at a premium. Maybe next month it will slow down, maybe it won't. But as for now, I'll do my best to get at least one legitimate thought strand down a week. My goal is two. We'll see how it plays out. Thanks for all that have been reading this discombobulated mess. Don't plan on stopping soon, cuz I know I won't be.
In a time when it has never been easier to keep in touch and stay connected to people in your life, are you? Consider this a challenge.
I have spent almost 5 hours logged into facebook tonight. I spent another hour in and out of gmail. I have chatted, emailed, wrote on walls, and commented on pictures. I have browsed the lists of other online facebookers, seeing who I could entice for an evening conversation. Besides doing laundry, going to look at an apartment, and eating a quick dinner, it's been a pretty boring night. But while I sat here, seemingly intertwined in the lives of hundreds of people I once knew, I began to realize how isolated social networking has made me. Has made us.
In sometimes desperately trying to maintain relationships with anyone that was, at one time, important in our lives, we have desensitized ourselves to the true meaning of connection.
We've substituted coffee shop conversations for chatting online. We've substituted phone callfs for texting. We've substituted drop-bys for emails. And in doing so, we have lost the essence of what it once meant to grow a bond between two people. I'm the first to admit, for much of high school, college, and probably up until right now, I always considered online communication my friend. I was able to be deliberate, thought out, structured, manicured, even strategic. But what I gained in electronic skills, I wasted in personal skills.
And with the means increasing, the portablenes of devices escalating, and the capability to 'always be connected,' I have lost something which should be valued like diamonds. I don't care how many pictures you see of me, how many friends I can link to, or how many times you've read my profile, it is almost impossible to keep up with an other's life unless you're in it. Not just as a name and a 200kb image. Which is why it was so important to me to make dinner plans with someone that I haven't seen in a long time. My news feed couldn't possibly be enough.
So that's where I challenge you. Don't be complacent with the expanding technology involved with online networking. Take a chance one day and go for a walk. Go buzz someone's apartment and hope their home. Give someone a call and meet at a coffee shop. There's a saying 'let your fingers do the walking.' Well stop letting your fingers do the talking too. Take what you think you have, and make it personal. It will make you a better person, and it will keep you close to people that may have otherwise faded into the technological abyss, this digital masquerade.
It's funny. Sometimes when you're 'down,' you want to stay down, simply reinforce the reasons for being down, and not deal with any sentimental, forced flowery from a friend's attempt to pick you back up.
That will be the focus of this.
When you receive something, or hear something, or read something, or find something out that spins you into a new realm of pissed off, depressed, or simply hurt, you fall into a moment of complete purity that is often impossible to recreate. For me, the feeling is like a heavy heart. Sounds 80s cliche, but it's honest. For whatever reason, when I hear that gut wrenching news of something I wasn't expecting, my heart feels too heavy to hold, like there's a weight tied onto its midsection, and it can't do one more dip. So instead of pumping back up, it just slowly sags to a rest.
But that immediate future is a pure, raw state of your body. And one of the few, along with sneezing, crying, bleeding, and getting the chills. But we all know how I feel about the chills (purist form of human behavior achievable).
Sidenote: Writing the word future reminded me of a George Carlin line: There is no present, only the recent past and the immediate future. So true.
Anyway, the curious part of a heart-sagging episode is the response. Like i opened with, sometimes you want to stay hurt. Maybe for the attention, maybe for the rage, maybe because you're bored, but there's some part of each person that doesn't want words of encouragement when bad news hits. Sometimes you feel like the Narrator and want to destroy something beautiful. Nothing settles your stomach or slows your thoughts. In fact, the buttered up lingo people sling around only makes things worse. They become part of the problem.
But what's funny, is that funny works. Wallowing, self-reinforcement, forced heartache, it's all fleeting. It's all avoidance behavior. It's a cop out. A disguise. At the end of the day, will this 'news' make or break you? Unless it's a diagnosis of cancer, I think you'll live. And as hard as it is, your friends are there to pick you up. And make you laugh when you don't want to. You ever laughed with tears coming out of your eyes? It's a weird feeling, but one that I'm sure you've experienced. Because you're in a state of reaction. No planning. Nothing safe. You're exposed. And it feels, great.
Didn't quite know where this was ending, but now I've found it. Laughing while crying, in my book, has now surpassed the chills as the single most pure emotion your body can produce. But it takes the weathered shoulder of someone that cares about you to get there. Never forget them, those that lift you up. They are the ones that earn a heavy heart if weighted news ever travels about them.
This disjointed mess of a post slightly resembles my state last night. I'll be cleaner in the future, i promise.
I'm a sap. Most of you know this. So how was I able to 'keep my cheeks dry' when I had to say goodbye to a friend who's moving away? I have a theory.
For me, tears are not hard to come by. Movies and TV shows have their way with my tear ducts. For some reason, watching paid actors pretend to be devastated evokes such a strong feeling from me. Shows like Scrubs will get me going. Series finales have always affected me. I even got teary-eyed listening to Mike and Mike in the morning on my way to work. That's a sports talk radio show. They were raising money for the Jimmy V Foundation, a foundation for cancer research, and reading emails and texts that listeners were sending in. The unprecedented appreciation for every dollar donated, and the stories of family members that have passed, and the ones that survived, I don't know, it just plucked at my heart string.
Hell, even hearing Sugarland cover REM is giving me the chills. Knowing how much passion is behind the every word of the 'the one i love' makes me shiver with emotion.
But when I was faced with an emotional and depressing real life situation, someone standing in front of me, someone I've grown very close to over the last 12 months, someone moving on and moving out, I barely felt an ounce of sadness. Why? Because I was genuinely happy. Happy for my friend exploring a new opportunity. Happy for the last year that we've had a chance to get to know each other. Happy for the bond that was formed. And happy that the situation was being played out by real people, so there was no heart shattering music, no camera tricks, zooms, cuts, there were no trained facial expressions, no reaction shots, no second takes, direction motivation, no false forced feelings. Just the raw, pure, and genuine appreciation for the happiness I had experienced with her, and the hope and promise that the future brings.
So I guess it takes fiction to get me choked up. And I'm pretty okay with that. Let's me appreciate the best of my own life for what its worth. Not a bad place to be.
We've all been hurt. Physically, emotionally, financially..... Pain comes in many forms and in an array of severity levels. As has been common with my recent entries, I don't feel a need to go into much further explanation and flowery prose about how and why we feel pain. Honestly, the human body amazes me in its reaction to something damaging. It's really quite an impressive little contraption, our bodies. But we all know about bruising, swelling, aching, and any other means that our bodies and minds use to warn of us injury and protect us from anything more. And why am I prefacing this post with another rant of things we already know? There's something regarding pain that I want to discuss. Obviously.
I really have no idea what anyone else feels. Absolutely none. And there is no way that anyone else can ever know what I feel or how much pain I am in.
Now I know that some things are relative, and that there should be some sort of hierarchy of pains that can classify how someone should be feeling. I would hope that if a friend of mine has the same injury, to the same extent, that I have had, that we are feeling somewhat of the same thing. I would hope. But I have no idea. Maybe my dislocated finger hurts me far more than someone else. Maybe my headache is pounding and severe, but I deal with the pain better than others. Maybe my body is reeeally good and making things not hurt as much.
So with that in mind, you can't even put yourself in someone's shoes in order to try to understand what they're going through. My friend just fractured his collar bone, and struggles mightily to even put on a shirt. Maybe he shouldn't have taken his shirt off in the first place, but the roof was sunny and the beer was flowing, so I can't really blame him. But it was quite a little show, the 5 of us watching him inch a shirt up his arm to a point where he could swing it over his head with his one functional arm. The point being, if i had been practicing bicycle kicks before a soccer game and fractured my collar bone in the exact same spot to the exact same extent, I would probably act differently.
So where does that leave us?
I guess it means that with pain, you pretty much always need to give someone the benefit of the doubt. I'm a bit of a naturalist, meaning I try not to take medicine when I'm hurting. The closest thing I do to medicate is eating a banana when I'm hungover. I like to make my body heal itself while I get to feel the pain, because I trust my body. Pain is felt for a reason: you're not supposed to use whatever is hurting. So why would you dilute that feeling, risking further injury... But that means that I deal with those ripping headaches and queasy stomach pains and stinging arm soreness on my own. Maybe the things I feel just aren't that severe, and people that take medicine feel things way worse than I ever have.
Without ever knowing what someone else is capable of feeling, it makes no sense to judge them for how they act when under the distress of discomfort.
