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I’ve spent a lot of time trying to become a person that I like.  One big component of that person is having a positive outlook on the world — not being a Pollyannaish “The world is beautiful place!! With Unicorns! And Rainbows! For Everyone!!!” type, but avoiding my depressions, finding the beauty in the ugliness around me, and appreciating everything that I have.

38 years ago, in a hospital room in Nashville, Tennessee, I became my parents’ first child.  Those years have been sometimes hard, sometimes easy, but always filled with life and living.  And here, at what is probably the midpoint of my time here in this world, this life, I think I have done a pretty good job of finding happiness, and learning to recognize the good things in my world.

I couldn’t ask for a better family.  My parents are not perfect, but whose are?  Not only did mine provide for me and then some, making sure that I grew up healthy and educated and happy, but (most importantly, to me) taught and encouraged me, both directly and indirectly, to appreciate knowledge, to think for myself, to question and to seek answers.  My siblings Mandy, James, and Kate have all taught me a lot — about people, about life, about differences, about myself.  I don’t get to see any of them as often as I wish, as there’s a lot of ground between all of us now, but I think about them all often.

My friends make up in quantity what they lack in quality.  Kidding aside, I’m surrounded in every facet of my life with the widest variety, the most diverse people.  Each and every one of them has taught me something (no unimportant lessons in life), helped me up when I was down, shared good times and bad with me.  I may not always be good at showing my appreciation, but it’s there.

I’ve got no shortage of creative stimulation in my world.  There’s so much amazing music and film and reading that I’ve been exposed to, and that I continue to find and be introduced to on a daily basis.

I have two jobs.  Again, not perfect jobs, filled with their own eccentricities and downsides, but overall two of the better jobs that I could hope for.  While I’m not getting rich, I have enough money to live comfortably and happily.  The people I work with are mostly those I count as friends, and the work is fulfilling and challenging, each in it’s own way.

I’ve had a lifetime and then some of love, both given and received.  Even the failed relationships have provided me with learning, new experiences, and wonderful memories. The love and happiness and laughter and passions that I share now are more than I ever hoped for, more than I even dreamed were possible in this world. I am amazed and astonished daily, left speechless more in the past month than the writer in me would ever have imagined possible.

I’ve always felt as though everything that came before led up to wherever  I was at the time.  Today, at least, I feel that that is true on a fundamentally and undeniably good level, that all my years of seeking and exploring and learning and sometimes even suffering have paid off in ways that maybe are more than I even deserve.

To everyone that has touched my life — positively or negatively, but especially the good: thank you.  It’s a wonderful feeling to consider: as ecstatic as I am to be alive and living this life today, I’m pretty sure this is nowhere near the peak. The past 38 years have led me to this point; the next years, I think, will only get better as I go.

Another week already?

I love the difference between calendar time and experiential time.  Not knowing without thinking very carefully about it whether something happened last week or three months ago… That overwhelming influx of experiences and memories in formation…

Adjusting to a new world is equal parts awesome and traumatic.  The awesome is perfectly logical; the traumatic is completely illogical.  Who still feels fear of the unknown in this day and age?

It feels good to be inspired again.  Creatively and metamorphically.

I wonder if this will make as little sense to me in three years as things I wrote three years ago?

Observations: October 2009

Some things are no one’s business but your own.

Some things aren’t your business, no matter how curious a being you may be.

Life moves forward, whether you are ready for it to do so or not.  If you’re not careful, it will pass you right by.

There are things that happen in life that may seem to beg an explanation.  But when you can accept that the universe unfolds as it should in bad situations, then you can learn to accept the same in good moments as well.

“Bones doesn’t feel the pressure to act or do or say anything that she doesn’t want to.  And no one – no one – can make her. And that’s what makes her Bones.”

Why is it that we seek the approval of others to the point of compromising ourselves to get it?

There is no such thing as too good to be true.  That’s fear speaking.  And we have no reason to fear the unknown.  Just clowns and spiders.

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It’s winter he says of his dream.  It’s winter, and there’s a light snow falling.  Not that that matters, since everything’s already buried under a thick blanket of blinding white.  Isn’t it funny, how even though there’s clouds in the sky still dropping the little crystals on the world, it’s blinding white?

He pauses, then, and I can’t help but think he’s a little sad.  Or not sad, perhaps, but wistful, wishing that it were a memory of tomorrow instead of a dream of yesterday.

There’s a field filled with people he continues, the smile returning to his face like a Woodstock, or one of those outdoor festivals?  And I mean filled with people — it’s weird, how the world flows seamlessly from snow to people and back to snow, and I can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.  Except…  he trails off for a moment, and I swear that I can see his heart skip a beat in his eyes … except for her.

And I don’t know why this is important, or how, but the air is music.  I mean, I know that music is just vibrations in the air, right?  But that’s not it.  We’re not breathing oxygen in and carbon dioxide out, but notes, and harmonies, and polyrhythms. Do you get it?  The air, every molecule surrounding us, me and her, this woman who is the only thing that isn’t snow or faceless people, is living and evolving and shifting.  And there’s no band, at least not that I can see maybe they’re buried under the snow, I think but there’s music everywhere. And it’s the most glorious, intense, powerful, soul-shaking thing I’ve ever heard or felt.

He stops. The smile is still on his face, but his eyes are glistening.  As I watch him, waiting patiently for whatever’s coming next — because he’s surely not going to leave me hanging on this — a lone tear swells on his lid and escapes down his right cheek. He doesn’t even twitch a finger to stop it, and I can barely resist the urge to catch the drop on my finger, like a butterfly that should be touched before it flies away forever.

I think that music that was in the air was unique for everyone that heard it, that it became whatever you needed to hear, whatever would touch your soul at that moment.  And maybe some of those people heard Mozart, and others heard speed metal symphonies, and probably some of them heard silence.  But it was different for everyone, because that musical air was alive and intelligent and just wanted to make everyone happy.

And while I was losing myself in that space, that tick between inhaling and letting it go, feeling the snow gathering on my hands, she turned, and I saw every feature, every detail. And her eyes – my god, her eyes, like stars being born – met mine.

His voice cracks, and I suddenly realize that the one tear has become a genuine river of tears, but all the while, his smile just gets bigger and bigger, and I can’t help but feel some of his happiness myself, so contagious is it.

And I know — KNOW he says with such emphasis that it shakes me – that she and I, in all the world — we two are hearing the same song.

And it’s the only song either of us ever needed.

We sit in silence, then. And I envy him, and his dream, and his memory of the music that connects.

Yet more on perspective

Don’t be afraid
Open your mouth to say
Say what your soul sings to you

Your mind can never change
Unless you ask it to
Lovingly rearrange
The thoughts that make you blue
The things that bring you down
Will mean no harm to you
And so make your choice joy
The joy belongs to you

And when you do
You’ll find the one you love is here
You’ll find you
The love yeah

Don’t be ashamed no
To open your heart and pray
Say what your soul sings to you

So no longer pretend
That you can’t feel it near
That tickle on your hand
That tingle in your ear
And ask it anything
Because it loves you dear
It’s your most precious king
If only you could hear

And when you do
You’ll find the one you need is here
You’ll find you
Love you

-What Your Soul Sings, Massive Attack

When good things happen to us, we become suspicious, questioning the veracity of the moment.  We wonder if what’s in front of us is too good to be true.  We seek out the catch, the fine print, the hidden price for what’s being offered us.

When bad things happen, we may question, “Why me?” but we accept that the bad things happen.  It’s an every day occurance.

I lost my wallet.  Damn it.  I guess that’s just the way it goes.

You want to offer me a great deal on the car that I want — in fact, need, as my old beater finally gave up the ghost?  Okay: what am I not seeing? What are you going to pull on me here?

Why do we do this?  Do we not deserve the good things in life?  Do we bring so much bad on ourselves that the good seems undeserved?

I’m as guilty as anyone else of this, but I’d like to not be. I don’t want to be suspicious of the good things in my life.

It took me a long time and a fair amount of effort to get past the point of stressing about things I can’t control. I realized that I was missing out on a lot of the present by either obsessing about the past or worrying about the future — one which I can’t change, and one over which I have very little control — and so I fixed that.  But now I wonder how much I might be passing up in the world because I think I don’t deserve it, or that it goes against the rules and expectations set up by society-at-large.

Especially given my proclivity to ignore those same rules and expectations.

Little by little, I’m learning, I think, how to make a world that is, if not better, then at least a little happier.

The Mirror

What would you do if you met yourself?

Would you like yourself?  Would you be interested in hanging out with yourself, having a beer?  Would the conversation be fascinating, or would you be bored in minutes? When the night was over, would you hope to see yourself again, or would you give anything to avoid that awkward situation?

Yes, I’m aware of the stunning amount of narcissism inherent in this line of thinking.  Shut up.

After my first divorce, years and years and a lifetime gone by, I realized that I had a tenuous grasp of my own identity. I had spent so much time trying to make other people happy (thinking that that was the key to my own peace of mind) that, when left alone with no one else to please, I didn’t really know myself at all. I’ve spent the last fifteen or so years trying to understand myself — not just knowing who I am and what I like and don’t like, but the underlying reasons and causes for why I am who and what I am.  I’ve tried to figure out the pieces of myself that I don’t like, and to discard those pieces.

And contrary to my above statement, I don’t really see this as a mark of vanity.  I think understanding yourself, a sense of self-awareness, is incredibly important to understanding those around you, and your interactions and relationships with them. Of course, as always, the more I learn, the more I know I don’t know shit.  Mileage may vary.  Caveat emptor.  Slow: falling rocks…

For me, over these past years, this self-examination has been largely key to my happiness and optimism (cynical though that optimism may be colored).  I’m perfectly content being alone, which means that I’m not constantly on the hunt for validation through attention from others.  When alone, I have plenty to do, and I enjoy my own company.  When not alone, I don’t have to question the motivations of others, or of myself.  There’s an honesty to my own behavior (and I think of those I choose to be around) that I can distinctly say was not there in my “other” life, pre-questioning.

They say that opposites attract.  I get that, to a degree.  There’s a lot you can learn (and I do so love learning, often) from someone different than you.  But it seems so much more obvious to me that — in the long term, at least — having friends and lovers that are alike would make more sense. Not identical, obviously — you’ve already got one you to hang out with, from here until the day you are no more.  But identical enough that there’s an inherent understand, shared passions, similar belief structures; a foundation upon which you can explore your differences and learn new things and experience the unfamiliar and (hopefully) unexpected.

Real self-awareness — the kind that is meaningful to yourself — requires that you ditch the rose-colored glasses. The side benefit of that is an ability to view life the same way, to admit that things aren’t perfect, to see the flaws.  The important follow-up is realizing that, in your acceptance of your own imperfections, you can find the ability to accept and even embrace the imperfections of those around you.  You become aware from the beginning that this isn’t some mirage or illusion, and the early acceptance of reality can keep that same reality from making a sudden sharp intrusion into your fantasy.

Kurt Vonnegut’s Timequake deals with the idea of having to relive, moment for moment, action for action, the past ten years as a passenger in your own body.  Just as he posits that you might consider living your live in such as way that the unpleasant moments you would have to relive are kept to a minimum, it seems important to me that you become the kind of person you would be okay spending an evening, a week, a year, a lifetime with.  Because that’s the reality of situation: no matter how much you may (even successfully)  distract yourself, eventually it’s going to come down to you, yourself and you. Shouldn’t you be okay with that thought?

I know I’m not there, yet, but I’m getting closer every day.

Don’t tread…

Sometimes, writing very angry things down on paper is all that you need to do.  Sometimes, typing them onto a screen over the course of two hours — two very bitter, angry, black-metal fueled hours — and then re-reading your words, and then highlighting them all and hitting delete is all you need.

Rather than go over the same ground that I’ve beaten into a concrete floor, I will simply say to the people in my life that have never taken me for granted, or tried to make me feel guilty for their self-imposed problems (knowing full well that I feel in no small part responsible for the well-being of those around me, for better or worse), or lied to me to get their spoiled bitch way: thank you.

To the others, who probably don’t think this applies to them: I know who you are, even if you don’t.

——-

On a lighter note: if you really want to drive your blog’s traffic up, post a topless picture of Phoebe Cates (specifically, from Fast Times at Ridgemont High) in one of your rants.  (The daily traffic here — or more probably, just to that one post — has gone up, I shit you not, about 3000% in the past few weeks, and after eight years, I’m pretty confident that it’s not my writing.)

On death, and living

Rain blades are portals
Burrowing in ether
Through fleshes of souls
Deeper and deeper
Into the flames
Of words with no names
An unborn teeming oblivion
Yet still
I breathe
Awake
In this fathomless void
This bristling darkness
What is there to see?
In the blackest of shadows
An echo replies

The answer is nothing
The truth is the question
A sun-crested searcher
Beaming her bones
Fills up my lungs
With a new song of question
How can there be now?
If only I’d dream
Faster than light
Set fire to the past
Set the future to flight
See with the eye
For which I am the mirror
The pitcher; the catcher; the game

There is rhythm in this silence
Blood in this faceless wind
Pistons of white flame
Firing perfect unity
In the machinery of the beyond

Swallow the heart of God with your hands
Don’t trust your eyes if they see only tears

The brain is the most fascinating computer of all…

From the BBC:

Imagine if you could see time laid out in front of you, or surrounding your body. And you could physically point to specific dates in space.

Important dates might stand out – birthdays, anniversaries. And you could scan a visible timeline – to check if you were available – whenever you made plans. No actual diary necessary.

Most people dont wish for any more mental anomolies than they already have, but I wouldn’t mind having synasthestia.  If anyone knows where I can pick some up…

Alone again…