Great Anticipation

The climb of a roller coaster. The airport before a vacation. The menu at a great restaurant. A first date. Friday afternoon. New Year’s Eve. Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve: When you were younger, you would spend time with your family, fighting every urge to go into the other room and investigate what presents were already out, knowing full well that Santa still hadn’t dropped off the final load. When the time came to finally go to bed, you accepted it with open arms. It was hard to fall asleep with the mystery of what sat wrapped under the tree, looming in the dawn. More times than not, in my household, it didn’t take the sun to get me stirring. I’d beat that late sun up and out of my bed, tip-toeing through the silent house, ready to see what my stockings were holding. Then use what little light outside had to offer to marvel at what had happened while I was sleeping.

Now, I’m not here to say that I didn’t have any Christmases of memory. In fact, Christmas morning produced some of the most memorable events from my childhood, and I am very thankful that I was able to experience those, while I know there were many less fortunate than me who cannot say the same thing. But that’s not why I’m here. I have no idea how times were back in the day, and I don’t know if this is something that will ever change, but I’ve started to realize more now than ever, that the anticipation always seems better than the actual… thing.

I don’t think this concept is too new to people, but I’ve never really given it much thought. Like Chuck Palahniuk says, “The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it.” Doesn’t this bother anyone, when it’s related directly to something you’re anticipating? I know there are times when something completely surprises you, but it’s usually because you had low expectations to begin with. The anticipation is so high because there’s so much room for potential. When you’re sitting in an airport during the first moments of your vacation, there’s no end to how amazing your trip will be. When you place an order, your mind already thinks it’s going to be the best thing you’ve ever consumed. Flying down and around a roller coaster is exhilarating, but the climb, or the pause at the top, or the dip before the dive, those are the ones that get your heart racing. And same with people. Hours and hours of conversation could build someone up to be perfect, and then it’s a complete let down. Or the anticipation created during a courtship (yes maybe I am from the 18^th century), then being wholly disappointed when you finally give in to each other.

Is it possible to find a way to curb our anticipation? Would we ever not imagine something we desire to be amazing? Else, why would we desire it? Would having lower expectations be wrong? Is constantly trying to find someone or something that doesn’t lead you to be disappointed the ultimate goal?

I have a hard time finding answers to any of these questions. I love the idea that a Friday afternoon is the most exciting time of the weekend, even if you end up on a road trip to Nashville where you meet a band and make out with the lead singer. Well maybe not in that case. But the idea of potential is always powerful. In physics, potential energy only decreases once released. Though, if released in the right condition, the energy might rise steadily (no one look that up to prove me wrong, I don’t feel like doing research). Hell, this is the case with everything. Every book title and movie title and article title and name and face and place and job, everything holds the potential to be amazing, which usually only sets people up for disappointment.

At the same time, I don’t think it’s fair to call anything that doesn’t meet your expectations a disappointment, and I don’t think it’s fair to ask people to stop expecting the best case scenario. I just think if we’re more aware of the situation, and realize that even though our anticipation couldn’t be matched in reality, that doesn’t alter or taint the object or individual.

Sweet Dreams Part II

If you missed Part I, give it a read. Otherwise, I delve further. While I think we can all agree that the subject matter of our dreams is still under investigation and up for debate, there is no discussion about how real some of them feel. Whether you wake up with a racing heart because your friend’s dad was chasing you through the neighborhood, testing your knowledge of side gates and alleyways, or you wake up with a racing heart because you just got caught having sex in public, there are physical and emotional reactions that our body has to dreams.

Dreams can be unwelcomed. They can be jarring. They can terrify you or elevate you. They can push you to the edge of a dark abyss, or keep you on the cusp of experiencing the thrill of a life time. They can vary in length, depth, detail, and logic. I’m far from exploring the idea that various aspects of my dream can be interpreted in certain ways. “Acquiring the ability to interpret your dreams is a powerful tool. In analyzing your dreams, you can learn about your deep secrets and hidden feelings.” What a crock of shit. Stop trying to sell books to people that believe seeing a lemur in your dream ‘indicates that there is something in your life that you are not seeing clearly.’ Oh really?

So, I don’t put stock in the various explanations offered for what you can remember dreaming about, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think dreams influence the way we live.

Recently I woke up from a dream that couldn’t have been more vivid. To this day, almost a week later, I can still see the intersection I was standing. I can still see my friend, walking away, turning, coming back to say one more thing, and then me doing the same. I don’t want to bore you with any more details, but I wanted to prove this this scene is still reverberating in my mind like an actual memory, not a fabricated one. Even some of the most detailed dreams fade quickly after sunrise. I know I’ve had dreams that I don’t think I’ll ever forget, and their gone by the time I try to mention it at lunch. For some reason, this one has stayed with me. And it’s done so in a way that actually caused action. I’m not sure how that action will be received, but that’s not the point. The thing is, it took a dream to help me wake up.

Besides being pushed to action, think of how many dreams change your perception of someone or something. This is the closest way I can get to believing in repressed feelings or hidden desires. Though not often realistic, there have been countless times that I woke up after a dream and thought something like, ‘wow, so and so looked great,’ or ‘man, so and so really is an asshole.’ It could be someone sufficiently present in your day to day life, or someone that you haven’t seen in years, but something in your dreams causes you to see them in a new light. These kinds of things can really mess with your mind, because you’re quite possibly letting something that didn’t actually happen change how you treat someone. So you end up trying to figure out if your brain is trying to let you in a hidden little secret, or if it was just a random sequence of events that now has you completely confused.

How do you trust something that you had no control over creating? Is it any more or less insane that trusting something a fictional character said in a movie, or a 17^th century philosopher said during a time without the internet? We so casually accept a few select minds of the last thousand years as genius, but how comparable is that life with ours. And we (I) so casually assign the words of wisdom written and spoken by some of the great, and not-so-great minds of our current entertainment profession without grasping the idea that it’s just the words of the person or people behind the curtain, not the character we’ve grown so fond of. So how much stock can we put in ourselves. If dreams can impact your life in a positive way, is there any method to the madness behind our minds. I’m scared of what my mind is capable of while I’m asleep, but maybe waking up to disappointment is only a small price to pay for the possibilities a dream can open.

There are a lot of things I don’t believe in, mainly because I don’t like losing autonomy. Selfishly, I like to be responsible for my own thoughts and actions. Which is why dreams pose a new problem for me, since, quite obviously, dreams are created internally, with no one to blame but my own mind. So if the rest of my decisions, thoughts, actions, beliefs, and ways of life are controlled and calculated, maybe dreams are just the element of chaos we need for balance. The long ass stick in the hands of our high-wire act called life.

Sweet Dreams

I awoke. It was just after four in the morning. My room was unsettlingly quiet and dark, given my playlist had long ago run out. Restless, I shifted positions in bed, searching for something to slow my racing thoughts. Why I had awakened, I have no idea. But what I awoke from was one of the more life-like and eternally blissful dreams I had ever dreamed, with the thoughts, visions, images, emotions, passions, and experiences so chillingly vivid it was staggering. The details of the dream are hardly important, but the feelings of perfection were fleeting so quickly as the moments between my eyes opening and my current state were ever-increasing, letting the cold reality settle in. I, in fact, was not living the dream I dreamed. It was cold, dark, silent, and still an hour and a half of dreaded attempts at sleep before my alarm would disrupt any semblance of nocturnal rest. Once again, I was fooled. Quite the gag my mind was able to pull off. Casting a life so strongly feeling like one I had been living for years, only to wake up and scare it away. So why do we dream?

In a mild attempt at research, I’ve found that some researchers suggest that dreams serve no real purpose, while others believe that dreaming is essential to mental, emotional and physical well-being. Not surprising, but I didn’t want to continue if there was an agreed-upon scientific theory that would completely nullify my words. But since I found nothing, I will forge on.

In no way will I attempt to explain my dreams, but it’s my un-researched belief that dreams fall into three main categories:

1.) My aforementioned utopic dream

2.) Frightening dreams we commonly refer to as nightmares

3.) Bizarre dreams that have no grounding in reality, which make you sound like a schizophrenic 8-year old when you try to relay the events involving raining peapods, your 3^rd grade music teacher, candy lava, and your shoes could talk to you. Also known as ‘acid trip dreams.’

I don’t count day dreams since I believe they are simply times when your thoughts wander and you lose focus, therefore, a controlled and planned mental diversion as opposed to the ones that happen in the middle of the night. But no matter the type of dream, and whatever researchers might suggest is the reason for having them, there’s one concurrent theme: they *always* leave you disappointed.

You wake up after the most amazing and perfect dream ever. You realize it wasn’t real. The situation I outlined at the beginning of this post comes true. You went from feeling like a king to feeling like normal. Result: Disappointed.

You wake up after the most terrifying and miserable dream ever. You’re panicked. You’re sweating. The creak of your pipes make you want to turn every light on. You seriously dread closing your eyes, assuming the evil that you just escaped will promptly reappear. Result: Disappointed.

You wake up after the most confusing and jumbled dream ever. You’re… confused. Why did someone try to eat your leg? Why was your family on a rocket ship to Boston? Why were you 10 feet taller than everyone else? Why did your 6^th grade class show up singing Christmas songs? How come when you try to tell someone how crazy this dream was, you can’t remember anything, and they lose interest immediately? Result: Disappointed.

Sure, half the time I wake up, I don’t have one iota of an idea of what I just dreamed. It kept me asleep for at least 4 or 5 hours, and now I’m ready to start my day. And I would think it’s obvious that recent activities or conversations or thoughts have an easier time finding their way into a dream and influencing how you perceive them (if you just watched The Exorcism, you’re worried about devil possession…). But I kind of hope they get behind the nonsense of dreams, because I’m sick of being disappointed or freaked out. I don’t want to dream in colors, I want to dream of colors. ‘Oooooo, blueeee, that was calming, good night’s sleep!’ Save the serial killers in my neighborhood and the winning the World Series, I’ll take care of that stuff in reality.

Just Another Manic Monday

I work in a large building full of cubicles, offices, and labs. Hundreds of people come here every day for work. I see, talk to, pass by, run into, and correspond with dozens of them, along with people around the country and around the world. What I’ve described is most likely, in some way, relative to what you might come across on a daily basis, be it people on the street on your way to work, or the close-knit group you work with every day. Without a question, the most common question you hear is ‘how are you?’ Half the time it might only be in passing, the answer being less important than the question used as a greeting. Those get the ‘good,’ ‘good’ type of exchanges. But when you are some sort of conversation version of ‘how are you,’ based on research I have never conducted and with no actual proof, 80% of the time, people use the day of the week as a catalyst to describe how they are doing.

The weekend just ended. You spent 8 hours watching football, eating wings, and drinking beers. You spent the day at your parents’ house with the kids. You spent the day dusting, vacuuming, polishing, and cleaning the entire house. At the end of the day, you were exhausted. Wake up, and it’s back to work.

Good morning, how are you today?
- Ugh, it's Monday

You were able to get through Monday, which is, for most people, the busiest day of the week. That alone is the silver lining. You might have four more days still on the calendar, but at least Monday is done. You can catch up on some sleep. There were some good TV shows on. You watched some Monday Night Football. You’re already used to waking up early again. Not all is lost.

Good morning, how are you today?
- Eh, it's only Tuesday

It’s the middle of the week. If you talk to me after lunch, I’m more than halfway done. I’m starting to make some weekend plans. The work is shifting from my inbox to my outbox. There’s a flicker of light at the end of the tunnel. You’ve reached the peak, and now you’re on the downhill side of the mountain. Unless something drastic happens at work, it’s smooth sailing for the rest of the week.

Good morning, how are you today?
- Hey, it's hump day!

There only stands one day between you and the weekend. Conversations have flooded to what the weekend has in store. The prospect of the weekend makes you feel like it’s already here. Knowing how good of a mood you will be in on Friday, it almost feels like today is a freebie. The mood of the office is light. Everyone seems to be in positive spirits. And your week of work is coming to an end. It becomes less about what day it is, and more about what day it almost is.

Good morning, how are you today?
- It's almost Friiidaaay....

It’s here. You are hours away from the best feeling of the 9-5 life: the moment the weekend starts. It’s full of opportunities, possibilities, people, places, ideas. Nothing is better than potential. Whether the office claims it or not, it’s casual Friday. Not necessarily in dress, but in spirit. Everyone is bubbly, people mingle, plans for the weekend are shared and discussed, and everyone has a common goal. Make sure everyone’s work is done. If that means pitching in with work that wasn’t assigned to you because you’re done early, that’s okay. One team, one goal: get to the weekend.

Good morning, how are you today?
- Woohoo!!! Finally Friday!!!!

Have I accurately portrayed what you have all experienced? I sure hope so. But I also hope that this doesn’t apply to you. I can’t speak for how I’ll be in 20 years, after the working life has worn me down to a tired, cynical soul, enamored with privacy in the bathroom or silence in the morning, but I can speak for how I want to be, and that is not confined by my monthly calendar or daily planner. The days of the week cannot control me or how I feel. Why does everything have to wait for the weekend (again, I see the flaws in this theory, for parents with nightly activities, and people with other responsibilities)? If you feel yourself getting caught in a rut, where every night is the same, forgettable routine, feel strong enough to break it.

Just because a few of your favorite shows air on Tuesday nights, doesn’t mean you need to deepen the ass-grove in your couch and snuggle up with your TV blanket. Just because you’re used to doing laundry on Monday nights, doesn’t mean you can’t go an extra few days with what you have and trying again another night (unless you’re out of underwear). If your friends invite you out for a drink, or for a town concert, or a showing of an old, classic movie at the local auditorium, you can do it. If you’re waiting for the weekend before you call a friend to hang out, try a Wednesday. If you continuously wait until the weekend, something will inevitably come up. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought I’d just wait until Friday before giving someone a call, then before I know it, I fall into the same plans with the same people I’ve seen for the last month, and never make the call. It’s okay to go do something on a Monday. Work will always be there in the morning. For the rest of the week. And the rest of the month. And the rest of the year. And the rest of the decade. You get the idea.

If you let the days of the week control your mood, your plans, and your approach to life, then you’re giving away entirely too much authority. Next time you get asked how you are doing, I plead, do not reference the day of the week. We can all count, and we’re all on the same page. I’m not saying I’m not in a better mood on a Friday, but I have enough autonomy to let my own life dictate when I do things, how I do things, and how I feel on a day to day basis.

Quote Me on This

If you knew how much time I spend looking through quotes, it might surprise you. Okay, that was underwhelming; it would baffle you. I look forward to finishing movies so I can go back and read every quote that IMDb lists. I've read the full quote page for shows like Boy Meets World, The Simpsons, Seinfeld, and The O.C. more times than I'm willing to admit. I've purchased two different movies based solely on the quotes I read on-line and word of mouth (Boondock Saints and Juno). Trust me, I completely understand this is bordering on an obsession. I almost called it an 'unhealthy obsession,' but that's kind of the purpose for this post, so I'm going to hold off passing self-judgment until I explore this a little further.

I use quotes as a muse. I've had posts in here that are centered around a quote, or that are the product of a quote launch pad, or that are attempting to disprove a quote I heard. When what I do is based on a snap shot of time, a moment, a picture, quotes offer that. They are complete and whole as they are. There is no 'well let's see how that plays out' type characteristic. There is a capital letter, a period, and will never been changed, only recreated. This makes them easy targets to write about. And since I began writing From Shore to Pschorr, I tend to look at quotes in a slightly different way. Now, I look for the story behind the words. I look for the meaning between the lines. I have deified quotes, as impossibly blasphemous as that sounds. I find it uplifting when someone can recognize and appreciate the work of others in their same genre. In a world built on individual competitiveness and an overwhelming desire to be the best, it's refreshing to hear compliments of the craft. Whether it's an opposing team member clapping after a dunk, or a rival band attending and appreciating a concert, I love when people can respect the art of their competition. In a small way, that's how I feel reading quotes (and lyrics get lumped in with those whole conversation, I just don't feel like typing 'quotes and lyrics' every time). No, I'm not a financially successful writer, but I have done more than I thought I would, and consider the experiment here to be a success. And even though I can go back to some of my manipulated words and sentences and find gold, I am frequently stricken by the talent of others.

This long intro sets the stage for this conversation: what are we to make of quotes? 3-part answer...

1.) Do we just appreciate them for the meticulously constructed formations of words, spelling, grammar, syntax, and style? Like I was just saying, there is a certain amount of poetry in a well scripted line, and really, to quote someone or something is an implied tip of the cap to the author. There was something inherently beautiful it what you repeated and the final form was enough to pass along. This can also include the meaning behind the words, but they're usually combined with several other tools of language. You would see this more in poems or fiction or songs, where there is a craft at stake. There is a level of artistic obligation that twists in analogies, alliterations, parodies, ironies, rhymes, metaphors, inferences, references, puns, and any other device that can raise the level of written language.

This side of the break down is relatively straight forward. Text can be appreciated for a work of art.

Example: "How could you leave me, I thought that you needed me, when the world got too much and you pleaded with me, who helped you immediately, how speedy of me, how could you deny me so vehemently?" (Jay-Z - I Know)

2.) Do we appreciate them for the personal way they affect our lives? I have been quoted as saying (ha) that the chills are the truest, rawest, purest form of emotion. Whether it's scared out of your mind or deeply connected, your body naturally reacts by making every hair on your body stick out. With my affinity towards getting them, it's no wonder to believe that it happens to me often. I used to get the chills 3, sometimes 4 different times while reading William Wallace's speech in Braveheart. Yes, often a movie is to blame for these emotional arrows, and like songs, music is also an integral part of the meaning. But it's almost inexplicable the times when our body reacts to something simply spoken. This might be my greatest fascination with quotes. How the right assembly of words on a line can produce such an emotional surge. Whether it's the key quote from one of your favorite movies, which rushes you back into the moment, or just the right trigger word that gets you all choked up, certain quotes at certain times can mean more than any of us realize.

This break down is also straight forward. For each person, a quote might mean the world, regardless of the meaning, who said it, or where they heard it. It's personal, and it's beautiful.

Example: "I love you. Very, very simple, very truly. You are the-the epitome of everything I have ever looked for in another human being." (Holden McNeil - Chasing Amy)

3.) Do we appreciate them for the meaning, the light, the knowledge they can bestow? Keeping this in the world of fiction, whether it written or filmed, what are we (am I) really doing when I quote an author or a movie like it’s some majestic discovery and holds the secret to life, love, and happiness? This was my main reason for exploring this topic, and this continues to challenge me. Not only do I love reading quotes, but I love finding ones that nail it. Ones that are so drastically smart, clever, on point, that I have no other reaction besides wanting to spread the words to everyone. Quotes that leave you thinking (shocking), quotes that create new ideologies, open your mind, cause you to rethink your mental foundation. Clearly, this is not surprising to anyone still reading.

But I assign these quotes as scriptures. I could find a list of quotes on the internet and create my own 10 commandments. I could line up enough quotes from books, from movies, from songs, and create a creed, a book to live by. But I’m using the quotes of characters. Of people who don’t exist in situations that aren’t real. Then again, the scripts had to be written by someone. So now I’m not quoting William Wallace, or Mel Gibson, but I’m quoting the English major sitting behind the curtain, pulling all the strings. Well what do they know? Am I really basing my life theories on six writers drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes 12 hours a day, churning out words for millionaire actors and actresses? Scary thought. I’m not ready to go that far yet. I still feel confident I can extract life meaning from movies and books without fear.

Break down: What we hear might not be written by experts, but they help you make a positive life change, then what’s the harm?

Example: "The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well, they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on. If you can change the way people think. The way they see themselves. The way they see the world. You can change the way people live their lives. That’s the only lasting thing you can create.” (Chuck Palahniuk – Choke)

Final thought: I’m not ready to give up quotes quite yet. I consider it my continuing education. Not something that prepares me for a test, but that prepares me to identify challenges and build strategies to survive. An obsession, sure, but not unhealthy.

Coming Up Aces

“I told him that a player on a streak has to respect the streak… because they don’t – they don’t happen very often.” – Crash Davis, Bull Durham

I’m not one to believe in the graces of God coming down to redirect our sails into greener pastures. I’m not one to believe that the universe is laced with some cosmic equation of karma that proportionately awards behavior in a ‘what goes around, comes around’ kind of way. (Proof). I’m sure there are dozens of other, similar-type belief structures that in one way or another, explain a lot of the hows and whys of every day human life. I’m not one to believe in those either. Not because I’m an overall non-believer, but it usually takes a little more evidence for me to buy in. It helps me to believe in the tangible. And part of it, I’m sure, is that it helps me believe in me. If I had to justify my successes by admitting they were a product of a greater majestic blueprint, it would start to take away a feeling of accomplishment.

But I’m not here to make this all about beliefs. I’ve done mildly well avoiding that gigantic, polarizing bag of opinions, and this time, I only use my abbreviated thoughts as a spring board to the most prevalent topic on my mind. I opened this post with a quote from one of my favorite movies. I was going to say ‘if you haven’t seen it, you should,’ but that’s not entirely true. If you really hate baseball, well, then I’d say skip it. Otherwise, it’s classic. And what the quote is referring to is a scene in which a young pitcher is the driving force behind a triple-A ball club’s winning streak. Now, the point of the quote is that it never matters how or why a streak starts, but whatever you believe you’re doing or not doing that might or might not have sparked the streak, well, you just keep doing or not doing it. As Crash says, moments later, “If you believe you're playing well because you're getting laid, or because you're not getting laid, or because you wear women's underwear, then you ARE!”

This kind of superstition is rampant in baseball. From never stepping on the foul line (guilty superstition) to adjusting your batting gloves to tapping your toes to touching the center field fence before every inning, I’ve never met a player that doesn’t do or believe in anything, as silly or serious as it might seem.

Funny part is, this quote applies to baseball and real life the same. I know plenty of people that find small or insignificant things in their habits that they deem responsible or any number of random victories or rolling hot streaks. Whether it’s a guy having good luck with meeting girls after switching shampoos, or a lawyer winning case after case because of a new leather binder, it doesn’t take much to assign a reason.

So why do we do it? Why do we think the winds don’t change for any reason? Why can’t we accept that we might be doing something different which elicited these new results? Why don’t we see there might be consistently random patterns of success and failure based on things out of our control?

Assigning something responsible for a run of good luck is regrettable. I think there is a lot to be gained by blaming yourself as your successes or failures begin to stack at unprecedented rates. Believing that a new pair of shoes is responsible for your better free throw shooting percentage is silly. Now, believing that you think the shoes make you better, but in reality, they just give you more confidence to go do your thing? Well that’s a theory based in much stronger reality.

There is also the theory that winning begets winning and confidence begets confidence, or combing the two and saying confidence breeds success. So now we have the idea that you don’t know why things have taken a turn for the better, but it’s a snowball effect. It happens once? Luck. It happens twice? Coincidence. It happens three times? Well obviously I can do no wrong, so I have no reason to believe that numbers four, five, and six will happen without even having to try. And a confident person will typically have a higher success rate, so once again, is based in some sort of reality.

So there are a lot of reasons that can be applied to a hot streak. Quite honestly, most of them are plausible, and I’d be lying if I said I really thought any of them were 100% correct. But what I do know is they’re rare. Maybe not specific to an athlete, since I’m pretty sure it’s not rare that Derrick Rose is a badass on the court every night. And maybe not to a brilliant mind, since I’m pretty sure getting A’s throughout high school in college goes past a ‘hot streak.’ But for those caught in the middle, those of us somewhere between slightly above constant failure and just below constant success, streaks are not a dime a dozen.

When you find yourself turning over aces every time you’re dealt a card, don’t bother checking the deck. It might be random, it might be you, it might be a higher power, it might be your shoes; it doesn’t matter. Whatever keeps you moving in the right direction is worth believing in.