Schon 'ne weile, na?

It's been a while since my last post on here. Usually when I'm away this long it's because I have no thoughts in my head that seem worthy jumping from my mind to the page. There are a great many things that I think and feel throughout the day which I believe I should write... but they never stay with me long enough to make it to the blog at night when I have time. This time, however, I have plenty of things to discuss (though I guess I'm really discussing it with myself, aren't I?). Indeed, I've had things to discuss for a while, but I never seem to find the time, or if I have time, I never seem to have the inclination. Funny enough, whenever I have some mental problem I'm trying to sort, I don't like to write it down until I'm finished figuring it out... and, paradoxically, once I've got it figured out I see no point in writing it down. There must be some name for the type of insanity I must have.

Nevertheless, I am here now, and the thought that has been swimming in my head today is one of kindness. A friend thanked me for a postcard I sent, which, when re-read even a half-year later, still was uplifting. It made me very happy to get this news. Sending it was one of the rare purely unselfish things (if there really is such a thing as total unselfishness) I've done; something entirely for another's benefit.

Anyway, my point is, originally I hesitated to send it. I'm always suspicious of actions that follow emotions, so much so that normally when I feel emotionally compelled to do something, I don't do that thing, and I study it to understand why. Some part of me realizes the morbidity of such an action, like dissecting a bird to understand the magic of watching the bird fly; but another part of me feels it very necessary.

I have two fundamental reactions to any kindness done me by another person. The first is suspicion. I feel the person is buttering me up for something; doing something for me so that I feel compelled to do something for them, to return a favor. If there is one thing I hate above all, it is being manipulated (there's an entire blog entry right there, if I ever come back to this theme). My second gut reaction, when I realize it is done out of pure kindness, something done entirely for me to put a smile on my face, is guilt. Guilt for being suspicious of the person, and a guilty feeling that I am not worthy of the kindness.

Actually, it was quite a revelation to me that acts of kindness could be interpreted in other ways, and I didn't realize this until I did kind things for someone else. I think most of our emotional reactions are spontaneous as a child, and reinforced as we grow up. We find supporting evidence for however we feel, we remember that evidence, and we disregard and forget the counter-evidence.

The other ways I realized I should interpret kindness came slowly, and were things much more thought than felt at first. If the person does actually want me to do something, at least they care enough to do something for me. It can be seen as the person showing their kindness and affection for me beforehand, before they ask anything of me. (Naturally, it could still be manipulation hiding in kindness) If they didn't care, they would just ask and/or expect the favor . (which, a for a good friend, I would expect this more often, and without resentment) And if it is a pure act of kindness, then maybe I do deserve it. Not in an arrogant way, feeling I deserve all the best of everything, but the idea that I deserved the kindness enough that I can accept and enjoy it. There is such a huge difference between positive and negative thinking. And the positive thinking maybe wishful thinking, for certainly negative things happen, but if you remain thinking positive, then when something truly positive happens, it's wonderful and well worth the effort. On the other hand, if you think negatively always, you herald the doom of anything positive that might occur. I always believed optimists were fools who couldn't deal with the reality of the world, they had to create a fantasy world where everything was magically happy in order to live. I remember always believing they needed to learn that the world had teeth and needed to learn to face those teeth rather than closing their eyes, forcing a fake smile onto their faces, and acting as if everything was okay. I thought the idea of being an optimist was a drug they desperately needed, it was a distraction that prevented them from assessing the reality of their lives and prevented them from fixing whatever was wrong with them.

(I still think there are fake optimists; pessimists who put on an act in an attempt to convince themselves, and others, that if they think positively, or act like they think positively, they will fool the world into behaving like it's a better place for them. It's rather like watching a wolf in sheep's clothing trying to eat grass, or watching someone shove feathers in their ass and pretend to be a chicken.)

Thankfully, I have met people who are truly positive. These people are not ones who cannot deal with their reality, they are people who have come to grips with the reality of their lives; they grasp and embrace it. Before I realized there truly were positive people, when I thought they were all charlatans and actors, it didn't matter how many people told me to see the positive side of life, because to me it was a fake drug, an addictive dependency on falseness and lies. After I was able to sort the truly positive people from the fakers, I understood. I was around these people, and I felt that my presence was dirtying their purity (not that they were pure people in the sense of perfect, but they were people more pure, more human, than I was).

I watched what these few people did, I watched for falseness and trickery, and found none. At first I thought it was a fluke, unreal, that I had somehow missed something. It was genuine I found, and I was astounded. They say the eyes cannot see what the mind cannot comprehend, that believing is seeing; they are right. An example is the mind/eye game of two faces, or a vase. You have to think about seeing it first, then the image appears. Somehow, it's impossible to see both images at once.

http://www.marcofolio.net/images/stories/fun/imagedump/faces_everywhere/face_vase.gif

After thinking about this, I realized that this was how the brain worked, and therefore I needed to open myself to ideas I never before would have considered. To really judge the merit of something, I had to first imagine it possible. I didn't understand kindness until I was able, as an adult and not a child, to do a kindness to another with no expectation of repayment. (I think my mother always tried to teach me the value of kindness and kind acts, but somehow what I learned was that kindness had a value in a monetary sense. Do a good deed for another, and expect the deed to be repaid. Now, this is an interpretation of kindness I abhor. If you do something kind for another, you should expect nothing in return, otherwise you're not doing it for them, you're doing it for yourself, writing a check for some other kindness from them you expect to get back). Only then did positiveness, and true kindness, become real; it was as if a great burden had been lifted, as if I were Atlas and the weight of the world was removed from my shoulders. Truly feeling for the first time since I was a child that happiness was possible and real, not just a fake high achieved by denying the real world, was really indescribable.

Some other time I would like to get into the subject that the smarter a person is, the more depressed they seem to be. Stupid people are happy because they're too dumb to let doubt in; whereas intelligent people are looking for ways to live a better life and they let much more doubt in because they can hold more difference equations, information, in their minds, and are better able to sift through the dross to achieve a correct answer. Related to this, smart people necessarily let in more doubt; they have a better understanding of how much they don't know. It's my contention that this doubt tends to accumulate. Intelligent people who are happy are typified by simplicity in their lives. Again, I took the negative view of this, believing they were weak and couldn't deal with reality, and so abandoned everything their intelligence gave them, in favor of living a simple "stupid" life. Again, I was wrong. Intelligent people with simple lives have worked at simplifying their lives, they look to the deeper truth foolish people can't see and so order their lives according to that truth; they are not closing off part of their minds because they cant deal with it. They live by simple principles and are, for the most part, undistracted by the negatives and false surface information that plague others. This doesn't mean that they aren't susceptible to negative and false information; they are still able to believe something to be true, which is actually untrue. (More money, or less money, will make me happier, and so on with more or less of anything)

The point is, stupid people need to be told that they are stupid. Not to ridicule them, or make oneself feel better, but because they need to know they are stupid. A parent does not knowingly let a child believe an untruth, a lie; yet we in the present-day world are afraid to tell another that they are wrong, or rather, that they are wrong because they are foolish. Facts can be determined as yes or no, right or wrong, but to be foolish or stupid is a judgement call, and we don't accept opinion as valid. Stupid people are people with consistently wrong answers who believe themselves correct; they make bad life choices, big and/or small, that benefit no one, not even themselves. We don't tell them they are stupid, we let them try to figure things out on their own, but because they are stupid (or even if they are just temporarily being stupid) they don't realize that they are wrong, consistantly making bad decisions. We ignore their fuck-ups because we think we haven't the right to tell them otherwise. And to some extent, this is correct. We don't have the right to ridicule them, to put them down to make ourselves feel better; such is only spite and malevolence toward another. I'm describing the (relatively) objective form of stupidity; there's a difference between the two. We don't have the right to put other people down, but where or how do we not have the right to help others? If another is making a bad decision, stop them! Or at least try to. We confuse the two motivations for calling someone stupid, we think we haven't the right to correct another person, but if it's to help them and not to only make yourself feel better... how can we really forbid the right to help others? Naturally there is a judgement call here, and mistakes will be made, but there are so many situations in which a stupid person makes a poor decision and the results affect others. At this point we transition from, "Let them figure it out, it's not my place to say anything." to "How the hell did this stupid person get in the position to make these decisions!? Especially since most of their decisions are so bad!?" The answer is obvious, no one has told them they are stupid, they don't know! They've never had the chance to correct themselves. We must tell stupid people they are stupid!!! (I don't mean mentally handicapped, that's legitimate, and we don't give them important decisions that affect other's lives because their reasoning is "impaired." We don't let drunk people make important decisions either. What I mean is a person is behaving stupidly, that is the definition of stupid, from the same word-base as to be in a stupor).

Okay, I rambled a bit there, but I said that so that this makes more sense. We must tell special people that they are special. We need to give compliments where compliments are deserved, even if it's just a compliment or encouragement for a person being the person he or she is. It is our way of combating "stupid" in a positive way, by encouraging good. Every so often we stumble into people who are truly wonderful, they have more of the answers to the questions of life figured out than we do, or at least, they have other questions answered that you yourself could not answer. They must deal with the buildup of doubt, of negatives, just like everyone else does. These people have the potential to handle life's questions and answers better than most, they live life more fully. They deserve our compliments in the hope that they will continue to be special and not become discouraged. And maybe, just perhaps, they will be able to share some of their answers to life with us and so improve our lives. I have met some of these people, I owe them my improved life, such as it is, and I can never repay them. All I can do is tell these few people that they are special, they are doing something right, and they deserve my encouragement.

This is the kindness toward others I started with. Formerly, I was suspicious of kindness, and even now, when I do someone else a kindness, I have a great fear that they will view my kindness with suspiscion. It's an old habit, one that I am trying to change by learning from the wonderful people I have met, and one I'm trying to change by encouraging those very same people when I have the chance. Recieving the news of the postcard tells me I'm doing the right thing. So, when given the choice between kindness, and embarrassement or fear of doing a kindness, err always on the side of kindness. Do it. Anyone can complain about the world, but how many people actually try to improve it? I've determined to help the world by bolstering the people who make this world a better place. =)

Every so often
we stumble
into people
who are truly special;
it is they
who make this life
worth living.

The Jason Rules: Revised

Some time ago I posted the Jason Rules. I've since been thinking on these rules, and rather than making a list of rules that seemed to guide my life against my will, I thought it would be better to be proactive instead of reactive. So I've revised these rules in order to have a more positive outlook on life... how's that for entirely cliche?

In any case:

1: Don't be ashamed of how you feel. There is no guilt in honesty.
2: Be present. Don't just be a spectator in your own life; live.
3: Live your life as if your days will not end.
(More forthcoming/later edit)

The Write Mood

I'm in the writing kind of mood, but at this point, I haven't a thing to write about. Maybe I'm really just in the thinking sort of mood, and I want to write in order to feel like I have answers to the questions swimming in my head. Or am I the only one who thinks of unanswered questions swimming in one's head like a school of fish in a fishbowl? You think of different subjects, look for answers, to get the fish to go one way or the other; hopefully away. The worst is when they come directly at you, demanding to be fed answers you don't have--


Go away fish, go away....

The Other Self

I got done recently looking at old pictures, quite a few of which were pictures of myself. After viewing those photos, it occurred to me that we are quite rarely who we believe ourselves to be; although, of course, this could be my experience alone.

When I think of who I am, what I know, how I think, and what I can do, it's a very different image in my head than the one that greets me in the mirror. Most notably, when I think of all the different ways that I act, according to my many interests and thoughts, the impression I would get, as an outside observer (ie, someone not me), is that I'm shifty and somewhat unpredictable. A sycophant. Someone continuously plotting and full of ulterior motives.

At the same time, I'm very aware that many people trust me outright, and usually after initially meeting. I don't understand this at all; this dichotomy.

I have very real ideas and feelings about who I am and who I strive to be. I want to be trustworthy, fair, kind, strong, funny and fun, serious when I need to be serious, loyal, far-sighted, open-minded, I would love to be brilliant, and generally a decent human being. What I see in pictures, and the mirror, but mostly pictures, is someone disturbingly quiet, judgemental, constantly mildly dis-interested, overweight in the lazy disgusting sense, and I usually look slightly constipated. I can only hope my word choice reflects a better image of me. However, I quite regularly inflect words and sentences with the wrong tones. What I think a spoken sentence is conveying is quite different from the sentence I actually hear when I speak it. I attribute this to Asberger's Syndrome, but it's not an excuse, it's a handicap to overcome.

This isn't nearly as concise as it was in my head before I started trying to put it into words. What does it all boil down to? I don't think who I am on the inside is really shown on my outside. I think it's something that needs more work... a lot of it. I could list my flaws till the sun came up, but unlike admitting you have weaknesses, telegraphing them to the world is a bad idea. I only hope that the truth lies somewhere in between the good and the bad versions of myself I've depicted here, then at least there would be hope.

Death, not in the Romantic sense

Given the location of my home and that I must drive every day to work and/or school, I spend a lot of time in my car alone with my thoughts. Naturally, my mind wanders as I head down the highway. At night, as I'm driving, I often drive faster, because I want to be home relaxing sooner. However, I very rarely wear my seatbelt, the way they are set up in my car, and my physical build, causes the seatbelt to cut into my neck painfully, and leaves a sore spot after I'm done driving; so, hating the confinement of seatbelts anyway, that's all the more motivation I need not to wear one. It occurs to me while driving that some animal, perhaps a deer, could roam onto the road and cause me to wreck. My mind then turns to what exactly would happen to me if such a situation were to occur. I would be hurt, definitely, but would I die? And how bad would I be hurt? What would I do? Would I regret not wearing the seatbelt? Or would it really make that much difference? Would my cell phone be close enough and would I be uninjured enough to call anyone for help? How frequently do cars come by if I can't call for help? How much pain and disfigurement could I deal with in order to live? How strong would my will to live be?

I don't know any of the answers, and any answers I think I might know are actually only pure speculation. However, once I'm done thinking of all these questions without answers, I wonder what it would be like to die. Would it be peaceful, or would I be full of anxiety? I hope if I'm to die, it's peaceful, since I can't see the point in getting worked up about something over which I have no control. What will it be like when the light fades out of my eyes? Will it be like falling asleep after a very long day? Will there be something on the other side of this consciousness? Or will everything I've ever been and thought simply fade with the wind? The idea that there's something on the other side, some sort of afterlife seems to preposterous as to be laughable. And yet, the idea that there is a race of humans running around observing the natural world, trying to figure out what makes it tick, and calling it science and learning and respecting it so much, seems equally laughable. For that matter, the fact that there are conscious beings living and making decisions of their own volition, despite however instinctual various creatures may be, seems beyond preposterous. The universe would be a much simpler place if all interactions were chemical and carried out by inanimate objects all along, and Occim's razor would point to such. The idea that, in a Universe that takes eons to truly create or destroy anything, we bloom into existence and are extinguished just as suddenly, is what's truly preposterous; yet here we are. And what about the intangible things? Things like honor, integrity, goodwill? These are human constructs of course, but at what point does anything become more than the sum of its parts? When does cellular life, chemical signals, and electric current become a human? When does that human become a person with a personality, distinguishable from any other person? What about intrinsic things? Love? Emotions relate to chemical signals, but doesn't comprehension of reality trigger these emotional-chemical signals? Aren't concepts like love more than the sum of their parts? The idea that all of this fades in the blink of an eye? Surely that must also be preposterous, no?

Given all these unlikelihoods, the fact that there is this notion called life at all and that this life is finite, how unlikely is the possibility that it doesn't end with the demise of this mortal coil? Cells live and die in our body constantly, synapses in our brains fire electric sparks, and yet there is an over arching theme called human that acts and thinks with consciousness beyond what a cell could possibly imagine, even had they imagination. It may be wishful thinking on my part to want something, anything, on the other side, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. Wishing for someone to love you back, or for situations to go well for you doesn't preclude the possibility that these things can, or will, or will not, happen.

And if there is nothing but this life, why are we wasting it learning anything more than what's basic to our survival? How ridiculous is that, wasting years of one's life, years that can't be gotten back, in the pursuit of knowledge and learning? If this is the only life we have, shouldn't our commitment be to living it rather than learning about it? We're all Faust in this case, only some of us never realize the foolishness in wasting our time learning. I'm all for improving oneself, but not at the cost of putting one's life on hold to live later, after the studying is done. And is the studying every really finished? At what point can you say, "Ok, I've learned enough, time to live my life."? I study history, I learn about the ways people who came before lived, the ways they built their lives up around them. It's taught me that it all fades with time, and the convictions that held a society together, can and do change, or fade away. Everything important that we seek to preserve eventually disappears, it is all of it fleeting and relative. Living, however, does not. It's the one constant throughout all of this. People, animals, life, continue to live and interact, it is the overarching static constant. People interacting, the ways they treat each other, that's what's important and passed on. It's among the briefest things, but also most enduring because it's constantly being repeated, rejuvenated, and passes into the future even as we live it. It takes the Sun's light approximately 8 minutes to reach the Earth. When we look up at it, we aren't seeing the Sun, we're seeing 8 minutes into the past to what and where the Sun was. How many milliseconds are we living in the future actually, compared to the time it takes us to comprehend and live our lives in the immediate past?

Everywhere I see the paradoxes and pointlessness of life and lives, organic organisms bumbling about in the fields and hills, running amok on a blue ball in the midst of vast and dark emptiness, barely removed from an ongoing nuclear reaction eons in the making and enduring, and yet, here we are. How ridiculous are our lives when viewed from that kind of perspective scope? You think that math test matters in the morning? Or that bit of money you're returned for investing your time at work? Of course it matters, existence is existence, and cannot be denied, if it exists it must be equally important. The secret is if everything is equal, then it's a static and unmoving existence, but existence, life, is not fair, there's something in motion. Why? With as ridiculous as our lives are, we must surely live them, and I like to think we should keep an open mind about the next step, whatever it may be. Life is for the living, for the living of it. Death cannot be the end, even if we don't understand the next step, it must only be the end of the beginning.

Forgotten Things Remembered

It's occurred to me that I tend only to write in my blog when I'm trying to figure something out. If I already figure it out by the time I'm ready, or around a computer, to write, then I never actually write it down, because at that point the answer seems painfully obvious and pointless to write. And I'm sure that sometimes I'm just writing it down to try to convince myself that the conclusion I've come to is the correct one. In any case, here goes....

For some time now I've been wanting to write about seduction, and not in the sexual sense, although that's certainly part of it, I mean seduction of thought, when that thing you hate becomes an acquired taste and eventually something you can't do without. But that's a tale for another time. Another thing I've been wanting to write about is my biography. I'm now in a strange place, that is, a place mentally where I'm finally comfortable with myself. I'm sure this is one of those cryptic statements where anyone uncomfortable with themselves is disinterested, or worried I'm going to become preachy, and they're going to disagree because every human life is a different situation with a different solution; and anyone who is already or has been comfortable with themselves is even more disinterested in my nonsensical drivel. However, this is for me, and I wish to try to connect the dots along the path of my life since my current state is to me quite a surprise, and I wonder if looking at the path my life has taken thus far will make it more obvious. Again, another time. I'm just mentioning these now so that I don't forget them later.

Now, the subject matter at hand.

Finding the perfect girl (or guy for that matter, but this is my blog, we're going with girl) is a paradox in two ways (ultimately, it's untrue because no one is perfect, but there are some who come closer than others). There are two directions finding the perfect girl can go, given of course you've had the cojones to talk to the girl/ask her out (and assuming you've dodged all of the other false positives). The first direction, is into the ground. You will find out that she is, in fact, not perfect. But this is the best of the two directions, because it means you've had the time to spend with her, and, optimistically, along this path and direction you've discovered that it doesn't matter that she's not perfect, you've become attached and can no longer think of a more perfect person, despite all of the faults you've learned the girl has. Even if it doesn't work out, hey, you've learned the girl wasn't perfect, at least you now know, and the issue is settled for you. The second direction, is nowhere. This is when your time together is brief and fleeting. This is the lovesick puppy syndrome, where you're memory of the girl is the only thing you have to go on. Try as you might to keep the memory in context, and pure, the more you think about it, the more you rewrite the experience, turning it into something it was not. This is how shrines are made, the person is sealed away in your mind, your memory, and ferments there, forevermore preserved in a state of perfection. Writers call it "a Muse," or "the Muse." This is where she, the person, fades away until she's only a shade or ghost of what she really is, and you've fallen in love with an image, filling in all the missing parts of the person with what you wish she was, until she becomes the embodiment of everything you want, and only a shell of what she is. This is sort of like the Shmoo. Once at this point, how can you give up the perfection you've created? Logic tells you to, but emotions are what always win out. Time is the only cure I've found, and it's not 100% effective; eventually, hopefully, you meet another person, or the emotions are stretched so thin by separation that they cease to flow.

Fear of the first direction has stopped me before, but I've been down the path of the second direction too, and it's worse, like a drug addiction you can't escape. Falling quickly in love, the love inevitably burns out just as quickly; anything worth having is worth the time and patience required to make it so. You should fall in love slowly, letting the heat build so that it warms and stays ingrained inside you, the way fire stones hold heat. Anything else is a flashfire that will burn itself out all too soon.

Timing

It seems that I always have these wonderful ideas in my head, usually in the middle of the day, that I think I should write about on here; however, by the time I get to a computer console I just don't remember what everything was I was going to say; or worse, by the time I get to a console, I've either sorted my thoughts out or I've just completely lost the impetus to write anything of the concept down. Maybe I'll start writing things down in class, or wherever, when the thoughts come to me, and then simply transcribe them here later. Eh, sounds good for now, we'll see how it all works out.

Being in eastern Europe is what helped me form a clearer picture of life. Being in the concrete juggle of dizzying monotony, where color and personal messes are the bits of life that infect the dull carcass of the objective world, the what is world. Memories are like this, the colors have stained through; faded, but still there, and the fact that they are almost lost, but yet somehow still present and saved, that is what makes them beautiful. Impressions of people, the placement of objects as they used to be, the circles and not so random patterns people work through; these are the important things. The little bits of nonsense we create around ourselves, that is the real value of life, not what is but what we desire to be; bits of flights of fancy, colored and staining, in an otherwise mundane and grey world.


There is something magical, something spontaneously wonderful in the moment between connecting what is and what could be with creative thought. The changing of trees and a river to a boat for the crossing, and the embarkation of a new adventure therein.

I'm no good with titles

I have this constant tumbling of thoughts in my head; finding a title to tie them all together is something I can do only after I've sorted out my thoughts. I actually spend a lot of time being confused. Not about things I've learned, I have all of that, well, most of that, figured out. I spend my time in my head thinking about other things, things you don't learn in a classroom.

For example, how do you justify yourself in disliking someone? What are the criteria? I think most people decide this on a gut feeling, it all depends on the situation and what mood they're in at the time. This doesn't work for me, and what I find most amazing about this is that everyone who uses this method is ok with it. My problem with it is a person's worth is then relegated to another person's emotions. Does this make any sense at all? What about the person's integrity? A person's thoughts and abilities? Any of these other things that we use to define a person's worth? When we make a decision on whether we like someone or not, it's a judgement on the person, it seperates people we consider good from those we don't consider good; from those we consider lesser. And if this isn't how you think the judgment works, then I wonder how much you compartmentalize your thoughts, how much you're giving in to the hive mind. If you don't like someone, but everyone else thinks they're great, don't you suspend your own doubt and tolerate the person? Even act like you like the person? And how does this mesh with the criteria we actually place on people? Kindness? Brilliance? Humor? I think a quite normal argument would be, "Well, this person has good qualities, but I just don't like him/her" and then we list some emotional reference "that person just makes me feel on edge" or some such. You do this, and start listing disjointed reasons because the truth is you don't know why you dislike someone, you've made an emotional judgment and haven't bothered thinking about it at all. All the while, you're solemnly convinced this person is just not worthy of being liked by you, but you put on an act and tolerate the person, and become fake yourself.

I feel if I'm going to make a judgement call and not like a person, then it should be on something more justifiable than mere gut instinct. In fact, a large portion of my best and truest friends have been people that I quite honestly didn't like at first (there may be something to do with being seduced by the bad things about someone, similar to why good girls like bad boys, but that's a deeper and more philosophical argument I'll save for another day). They say first impressions are often correct. Well, yes and no. Yes they are correct, a person does what a person does, and there's no way to hide that. However, the really determining factor is motivation; why someone does what they do. Ever have a large argument with a loved one and get so angry you finally ask something like, "Why in the world would you do something like that?" and the answer you get back is that they were trying to do something nice for you or someone else, and they just did it the wrong way, or at the wrong time, and it didn't work out? You know how that explanation robs you of your anger? It's the motivation, not the action, that is important. Actions are still important, of course, 'what is' remains in the end 'what is;' however, as far as value-judgements are concerned, it's the motivation that takes precedence.

Insomnia

Ok, it's about 5 in the morning here, and I can't sleep. It's not jet-lag, the timing is off for that. I've actually always had a problem with sleeping. When I was very little I hated to sleep because I knew while I was sleeping the adults would be off doing something likely cool and I would miss out on it entirely. This has never really gone away. On the other hand, I love to sleep, I love to dream, and in most of my dreams my life is more perfect than it could be in real life. Well, it's my fantasy, isn't it? In there I control all the details, even when I'm not aware of it.
Moving on... I can't sleep most of the time because I think too much. Any of my friends or family or aquiantences can tell you this about me. However, true as this may be, it doesn't make me think less. I'm a puzzle person. I love them. And I'm very good at them. Give me a puzzle, a mind-bender, a brain-teaser, and I'll focus on it entirely until I solve it; I'm a closet propeller head. Which leads me to do that other thing I hate... miss out on other things going on. So, at these times at night, as I'm lying in bed trying to clear my head to sleep, the day's worries forgotten... the overarching worries of my life flood in. I'm still hounded by the question, What do you want to be when you grow up? I don't know, I've never known. Well, that's not entirely true. I've had a wonderful father, a very unique person; and for all of his current problems, like dementia, he's still at his core the person I've admired for years. When I was a child I was convinced the entire reason to grow up, get a job, provide for your family, have a good and healthy relationship with your wife, was all for your children; to take care of them, to make them feel they are your purpose in living. So, my one overarching goal has been to be a good father, a good man, a good husband. However, this is putting the cart before the horse. I figured I'd be married and starting a family by now... that hasn't happened. As I said before, I'm a puzzle person. I work very well with closed systems, like machines. Life... is too open ended. I can't narrow down all the variables, which I think is the point, or else life would be stagnant. I think things in life must be like musical notes, a limited number of them, but an infinite amount of arrangments, tones, techniques, and so on. Language is much the same, and I've given up on knowing all the words... but not in my desire to learn all of them. I find if you learn the principles, then when you need the words, they come to you, and I often find myself using archiac words I have to check the dictionary to make sure I'm right about because Microsoft Word doesn't know it. Like I said... nerd.
So, here I am, trying to figure out what I should be doing with my life. I spoke before about closed systems... this life is mortal, that's about as closed as a system gets. And I have this fear that I'm running out of time. I hate clocks for this reason, each tick tick tick ticks off the seconds of my life I'll never get back, closes the opportunity I had to do something worthwhile. I feel I have a responsibility to be a good, fully functioning adult, and I'm not. I've spent the better part of a decade in college, I'm 27. 100 years ago that was about the average life expectancy, and I've wasted it doing nothing. Jack of all trades, master of none.
And, as it turns out, I can't type fast enough to keep up with the thoughts tumbling through my head. The problems keeping me awake have dissolved into my realization, once again, that life is more art than science, and the parts don't have to equal out symetrically. And, perhaps if I lose myself in today, and focus on it, being present enough of mind to enjoy it, then tomorrow will take care of itself, rather than trying to plan out my life like I imagine a politician does. I really must read more Nietsche, since I've found that he's beat me to my idea of living life as a form of art, and he would be a real time saver for me really.
And, yes, I realize this has really nothing to do with Germany and Europe... well, it does, but I neglected to write down the chain of thoughts. Short version, my year in Bremen got me to forget about tomorrow and allowed me to worry about today without thinking about the overarching life-plan I was failing; i.e. tomorrow or next year doesn't matter because today is what's important. Furthermore, I'm convinced that all the good advice about planning for the future is hogwash. Be sensible today, and tomrrow will build on that. Overall, more than anything, in your (my) life, be present.

Litmus

There is something unspeakably wonderful about you,
as if utterance would shatter
the crystalline essence I seek to bottle
from time. Perhaps it is better to remember
that I've forgotten, though I once knew.

~

They are the golden ones, those impressions
jotted down in rhyme or rhythm or meter
on parchment, the better to mis-remember,
gleaming as black iron ink

pulls empty white space into weight & gravity
greater than celestial bodies, capturing
the thoughts that revolve around the mind
nearer, then further, then near yet again...

while the paper curls & yellows,
lending color to remebrance
pickled, distilled. The details
congregate, intermix --

dissovle away, softly; like dreams,
leaving over their sentiment,
even as daylight bleaches
the remnants from conscious.

Forgotten words of the violent landscape

The fields and hills are strewn with the fallen
axioms; they tumble the waters and poison the fish.
Eventually the sun herself may be blotted
but for now the words merely lie
in thorny piles, competing
with the scrub-thicket.

Once, these words were carried
on the backs of men, cumbrous
& heavy
with good reason, they branded flesh
and man could carry few.
They held them firmly on the straight path.

Now, learned men,
men of letters,
navigate the heaps of serif-tangles--

through nettle-points
freeing crimson regret--
the men shrug, move onward;
search for water, for gold--
then silver.

They have replaced our burdened men
of words.

Stained-glass & vestigial wings

You can see him, there,
in the mirroriing eyes:
the fallen seraph,
hiding behind the smile.

He is umbillic-less;
he finds in the darkness,
the bright glass -- solace.
It is never enough;

his subsistence continues--
for melodies persist
even as lyrics evanesce
along vaulted angles.

Absent the close-tucked
memories, the layered tufts --
pinioned, he stalks this world
unbearably light; amnesic.

Of Rain & Umbrella Walks

As I drift off, you find me
with your manga eyes full
of innocence, tease, torment--

I've stolen your eyes to see the world
- addicted, I loathe giving them back.
Your eyes without you are spoiled,
they rot my existence; with them
I find enchantment in small secrets;

the fortune of bugs on apples,
the hidden stories of aged belongings,
the ephemeral of cobbled stones and musical notes....

My wander absent of tandem arms
and footfalls -- I have you in the formaldehyde
of remembrance -- in its weakness you deteriorate
still -- I hate the smallness of your confines,
I'll ransom your eyes back -- for you yourself.

The Update

I've not written here for a while. In truth, I haven't known what to say. The blog turned into my personal rant page, which may be ok, but I don't like it. My mind has phases where it is full of thoughts that cascade and tumble over one another, and I need to just keep my mouth shut for a while until I can think the things through.

I had a great many things pile on me at once. Not all of them sudden stressors like work or schooling, but emotionally just as severe... in actuallity, much more severe. I needed time to sort them, instead of reacting on my blog like a pendulum swinging from anger to dispare and back.

I will say this of all the things draining me, I had two rejections from friends that cut deeply. I prefer quality over quantity of friends, and to have two of my small group at once hit me emotionally was very difficult to deal with. Like you've finally reached a level of trust, and as soon as you're relieved and it's safe to show your deepest, inside secrets you've been hiding from the world, the friend(s) suddenly reacts as if you've shown them a disgusting offensive impurity lodged deep within your soul, which of course is a confirmation of your terrible fears.

This isn't what really happened, what happened were normal situations I was too sensitive toward for myraid reasons; however, telling yourself the logic of a sitution does very, very little to assuage the emotional impact you feel. At these moments everything you think you know is wrong, and the world comes tumbling down around your ears.

In the end, life moves on, and you rebuild the fantasy around you that is your life perceptions, and your skin settles about you more comfortably.

My greatest question recently is "Why am I like this?" And the answer I've come up with is this: that more than anything else in life I wish to be happy and accepted. By accepted I mean close familial/friendship ties. I want a close trusting family, like I felt I had as a small child. And suddenly this sounds like psychological gibberish one regurgitates on the couch for Freud.... I'm fearful of being completely confident in myself because anyone who is self-confident believes in themselves more than they believe in others, and this makes them dismissive of others thoughts and feelings when they shouldn't be. I'm terribly afraid I'll become one dimensional/arrogant/an asshole if I start walking about with full self-confidence. There must be a trick to avoid these pitfalls I think, but to continue on as I am makes me both appear to be and actually be, weak, indecisive, and a drain on others I call friends. This I do not wish, it's better to be an asshole than a leach. So, that's where I am.

The Jason Rules

There seems to be a list of rules my life follows. They're not rules I've been taught, but they are rules I've learned that seem to apply to my life.

#
1.) Jason can't win.
2.) Jason can't win.
3.) I refuse to be manipulated.
4.) I refuse to be ignored.
5.) I am not allowed what I want.
6.) It is not my lot in life to be happy.

There are 2 or 3 others that I can't remember right now. I gave up the rules many years ago, but when I'm disappointed I always start to remember them. It is things like these that make me believe in God sometimes, because nothing is easy, and too many bad things happen, or rather it's so impossible for good and happy things to happen, that it is not just chance, it's a test, a trial. It's up to me to overcome the obstacles in my way. And, conversely, if there isn't a God, and these things are just what happens in life, then it means that nothing in life matters, and I can do what I want. I don't have to be nice and good all the time because it's the right thing to do, I can be me and get what I think I want without worrying about how I get those things.

I've been torn for a long time between believing in Fate/Destiny and believing in complete free will. I believe in free will, but I keep looking for signs of destiny. Every time I think I find signs of destiny, when things are going good, they are abruptly taken from me. I begin to think there is no such thing. People like to say, like to tell me, that everything happens for a reason. This is true, but the reason for something is not "because that's how it's supposed to be." If you get your hand cut off, it was cut off because there was a sharp blade that contacted your arm, your arm was somewhere it shouldn't have been; the reason is not because you're supposed to learn how to live without a hand, that you will now be a better person.

So, the secret to life is that there is no secret. What you see is what you get. The world is a playing board and you choose which pieces and which game to play; checkers, chess, Christianity, Atheism, Islam, and so on. We make up or accept rules for games, intricate rules, and when we move the pieces, when something happens, we look at the rules and think it's amazing that there is such order to the world. There isn't, at least, not nearly as much order and destiny as most of us like to think. The world is too open ended, there are too many things in it to be able to understand everything, and so the world is what we make it; we pick our favorite corner of the fishbowl and decide to live in it. There are too many pieces, or too many notes. Even though there are only a certain number of musical notes, there is no limit to the songs that can be created, and there is no limit to the types of lives we can live. And if God is there watching it all, watching us live our lives according to our Free Will, then that's exactly what we're supposed to do. So, if there is no God, we live our lives as we see fit; and if there is, then it's the same answer. Making a correct decision is worth twice as much if you have the ability to make the incorrect decision as well. (There will always be a right or wrong, humans depend on it. Right or wrong in the eyes of God or in the eyes of Man. )

Happiness? Well, there are the occasional things that make one happy, but they are wily and ephemeral, one must hold fast to them or they will flit forever away..

Music

I've been paying a lot of attention to music lately. I'm living on a farm 2 miles from a town of 600 and my university is 18 miles away in a town of 16,000; I spend a lot of time alone at home. I look for ways to fill my time, but I'm sick of studying, and I'm sick of reading because of all the reading I must do to study. Music has re-emerged as an interest of mine. My sister calls music a drug, and I think I agree with her. Listening to music isn't what I'm talking about though, I feel the need to play music. I wonder if I should start playing the clarinet again, but I really think I should start playing guitar again. If I lived in a city I think I would buy a violin and get lessons, but it's almost impossible to get lessons right now.

There's just something incredibly joyful and fulfilling about playing music, and I doubt anyone who hasn't played or sung music can understand what I'm talking about, but I don't have the words to describe it any better. It's just something I feel compelled to do now... much like I feel compelled to write; whether it's a blog, poetry, or fiction.

I also have a philosophy course I'm taking right now. It makes me think a lot. For years I thought I had most things figured out, finally; but in this course, just by thinking very hard on a few things, I've realized that everything else I thought I had figured out is actually just a small part of life. I feel a little bit like Faust again, I've learned so much, but the most important part of life is living it, not studying it. I've discovered too that the best parts of my life, the happiest, have been when I've let go of my control of my life. I've always been very careful, tried to be responsible, and planned most of my life out. My plans have failed, and the best parts of my life have happened because of my instincts at the moment. I have a habit of overthinking... everything. Knowing a problem doesn't tell me how to solve it, but I have been practicing on thinking less. I control my thoughts, I don't let my mind go down too many roads at once, and it helps a lot. I've learned not to speculate. Still, trusting my instincts and emotions is a very, very hard thing for me to do since I've always believed making emotional decisions to be a mistake.

Now I've learned a lot, and I've reallized most of the people who study life a great deal never get to enjoy it. We have to learn to be selfish (at least a little bit) and try to get what we want instead of trying to convince ourselves we should be practical and not wish for frivolous things. This philosophy makes me think a lot, but not too much. Instead I'm able to step back the furthest I've ever been able to, I see life on this globe called earth, and the humans are no bigger or better than ants; only a little more complicated. The trick is to remember that even though we are like this, like millions of bugs running around with only our own lives important, our lives are actually important, and so too our feelings. They are the spark that makes life be life instead of a logical system that can be studied, programed and simulated on a huge computer. I like trying to imagine this spark of life, it's what convinces me there is a supreme being, a higher being, a God (but not the old man with a beard in heaven; I believe in Pantheism). I imagine looking at the world from space, but the world is in black and white. I can look at all the animals as they live their lives; the ants carrying out their small tasks, the dogs running and eating and sleeping, and humans walking around their lives. The humans leave a short trail of color that follows behind them. Our instincts are poorer, we have the free will to not do things that are good for us, and to do bad things, and to do things we don't like. We're different, inefficient forms of life, we make too many mistakes to be a natural animal, we think too much. That is what makes our lives special, that's what gives us color in a world of grey. =)

WWII in HD

I've been watching some of the new series "World War II in High Definition." It's beautifully done. Not the pictures, the videos, or the fact that war is beautiful, because it isn't, but the respect with which the creators of the program have dealt with the subject. It shows what happened to the soldiers, it takes no pride in victories, urges no revenge for loses. War is not glorified, but it is not condemned. It is seen as a sad necessity that sometimes occurs. I know many people that believe war is wrong, under any circumstance, but I find it hard to believe that those people will not fight for their lives if the situation happens to them. It's a terrible thing, to fight and kill a fellow human, but backing down from the threat of war is a form of slavery, and it makes everything worse in the long run; it is harder to put things to right later. After WWI, Europe lost an entire generation of men, no one wanted to fight anymore, and they, the countries of Europe, let Hitler do whatever he wanted. Appeasement is what they called it. Their inaction nearly sold the world into slavery under the Nazi Regime. This is what is called "The Indifference of Good Men." Being a good man, a good person, is meaningless if you allow the commiter of atrocities to continue.

There was a video clip of Nazis hanging Serbians in a small town. Some Serbians had fired on the German camp in the night, and in the morning 39 men were picked to be hanged. The men stood there, on their little steps, calmly waiting for the noose to be put round their necks; business men, farmers... men from Serbia, rich and poor alike. It looked ridiculous. Like a movie with bad actors. The men being hung were not afraid, the Nazis didn't look happy, or sad; merely indifferent. The clip showed all of them hanging, together, dead. They looked like birds hung after slaughter, except they weren't birds, they were men who had lived but a few minutes before. One soldier pulled on the men's legs as they hung, to make sure the noose was tight enough to cut off all air from the Serbians' lungs. I waited for them to get down, for the director to say, "cut, reshoot" to make it look more real, less absurd. It never happened, they hung there still; human chickens. No tears came to my eyes as I saw this, no anger, no incredulous laughter; I only watched, thinking the picture was wrong, absurd, ridiculous, like seeing a turtle balanced on a fencepost, swimming in the air. The turtle would never get up there without human hands, and he would never get down; his life is no longer his own.

The Carried Haversack

I performed an interview today, I had a class on poetry, and I've done many other things and thought many thoughts today besides, but they all somehow keep pointing a single question, "How do we come to know a person?"

Asking a person questions about themselves is one way, in this way we come to understand what a person thinks of him/her-self; in this way we come to know who a person believes him/her-self to be. I'm reminded of the adage, "Beware the actions and not only the words of a man, for deeds will betray a lie." I don't think we all lie about ourselves, but I think self-description is inaccurate, false. We learn best from self-description what a person wishes to be, to think, to do; but this doesn’t tell us how true these things are.

There was a noblewoman during the Renaissance, whose name escapes me now, who liked to throw gold coins to the starving peasants in the city. She would watch them scamper and fight for the gold; the strongest eventually got the gold by injuring the weaker. When asked why she threw the gold, she answered that she liked to be charitable and give help to the less fortunate.

This shows how self-image can be wrong, though I think this is an extreme example of how wrong self-image can be.

On the other hand, ready poetry, or any writing from a person, tells us much about the person. The more read, the more the reader knows about the writer, but caution is needed, because to only read part of what the writer has written gives a false impression. The meaning from half a sentence is incomplete, the other half of the sentence can change the meaning entirely. The same is true of half a paragraph, a chapter, a book. The book of a person’s life finishes only at death, but themes and ideas are learned and reoccur.

I’m always suspicious of self-exposition too. I wrote recently about my feelings, but instead of simply writing about them and expressing them, I analyzed them, writing about why I did things, why I felt a certain way. Surely a little is ok to clarify and express exactly what was happening, but writing too much about why something happened, or why a person feels a certain way about a certain thing always makes me ask the question, “Who are you (the writer) trying to convince? Me (the reader), or yourself?” Perhaps when we explain too much we lose track of what is really happening; looking too closely at the beauty of the cup makes one forget the purpose of the cup is to hold a drink, looking too closely at the ornate handle may makes one argue the handle is there to make the cup complete, to look better, instead of realizing the handle is there to help lift the cup. Analyzing emotions has the same pitfalls; we convince ourselves the emotion is there for one reason, when it is actually there for another. Maybe this doesn’t make sense, though, and my rambling and incoherence are showing.

The important thing is the image I have of learning about someone. I imagine a person walking; this is the person that other people see. A person carries a haversack; the haversack holds our world, our universe. It contains everything the person knows, it shows the universe and the reality this person has constructed since birth, this person’s life is held in this haversack, shaped by the individual’s perspective, carried with forever. We spend time with a person, we ask them questions, and when they truly answer, they take the haversack off of the shoulder, open it, rummage around in it a bit until they find the answer, and then show the answer to us. What is most intriguing about a person are the glimpses we get inside this sack as the person opens it. All of the other things inside, bundled together like an art expose’, but hidden. If we like what we see we ask more questions, always trying to get a better look in the bag; if we’re lucky we will eventually be allowed to see most of the bag, we will be allowed to look inside, but if we’re very, very lucky, when we look in the bag the things we see will be more wonderful than what we imagined.

Boundin'

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1162902076795

I was sharing funny videos with a good friend of mine. This is one of the videos I wanted to show him.

I've always loved this video, but this week it means more to me. With the moods I had, it's good to remember to have the right mind-set, and everything else falls into place and becomes organized and right. =)

For some reason the only video of it I could find was on facebook, and it has Turkish (pretty sure) subtitles. Komisch. =P

Not yet Satisfied, but at Peace =)

I stopped to talk with my dad a few days ago. I wanted to ask him what he thought about me spending so much money to go to Europe for a month and a half early in summer. He told me what I thought he'd tell me, but the way he said it he made me feel better about what I wanted to do. He said, "If you don't go, you'll spend the money here, and what will you have accomplished by staying? Will you be happier staying here? No! If you have the chance to travel, it's always worth it. Go!" =)))

My relationship with my dad has changed. I'm now 27 and he's 78. I'm no longer the little boy who asks his dad what to do because dad is older and knows better. Now I ask him what he thinks, and I'm allowed to disagree with him; I listen to what he says because he says intelligent things and gives good advice, not only because he's my dad.

I'm at peace again too. I don't feel the anger, or the low mood I felt several days ago. I remembered a few things I learned while in Germany. I need to remember who I am, and I shouldn't feel ashamed of what I feel. I don't need to justify how I feel, or explain why I feel it to anyone else. I've grown up with many expectations about me, from my family, mainly my mother, and my teachers. I realized I felt like a 27 year old boy because I was still reacting to other people's expectations of me. I didn't want to disappoint anyone, and I did certain things, and didn't do other certain things, because of what I believed people would think of me. Their opinion controlled my actions. It's nice to want to please others, but to have your decisions decided for you, or to feel guilty every time you make your own decision, is a type of slavery. In Germany no one who had expectations was around, I felt freer than I had at any time in my life, but that free feeling went away as I lived back home in the USA. I remember thinking as I was in Germany my last weeks, "I finally feel like I'm becoming a man. Really feel it, like I'm a man and not just someone who is older than 'boys.'" And maybe this sounds extremely silly, but it's the truth. Maybe if I thought about what words to use, it would sound better, but I think it doesn't matter.

I realize, too, that I keep bringing up my age. Hmmm, I think it's because I'm surprised at my age. 27 was always so old to me, and now that I'm this age, I don't really feel different. I don't feel 27. I don't look 27 either. My dad is the same way with his age. Haha, actually he told me a few days ago he was reading something and read that the average life expectancy is 75 for men. And he thought, well, that's good, that's pretty old; then he remembered that he is 78. =) He looks almost 20 years younger though. I'd say I look and act at least 5 years younger, and my little brother, well when he doesn't have a beard he looks like he's 12. =P He's 21 though.

So, I bought the tickets to Germany, and I will travel Europe and visit friends. =) It should be wonderful. I'm really looking forward to it, and I'm at peace. I have been for a few days before I bought the tickets, but more so now.

Maybe I'm not the angry person I thought I was, but I think I am. Only when I ignore what I should do with my life though. The anger is there as a tool when I need it, but I think anger feeds itself, and soon poisons all you do with your life. I'm not afraid of it anymore, and I won't pretend it's not there, or feel ashamed of being angry. You should never be ashamed of how you feel, only seek to understand why you feel such a way. Maybe it's a poor reason why you feel some way, and you can be ashamed of that reason and change the reason, but what you feel is not the thing to blame.

... my mind is clear now and I can't think of any other thing to say. =)

Renovatio

My mind urges me to delete my two previous posts. They were outbursts, negative reactions to feelings I didn't control. I'm going to resist the urge though, there must be something to be understood from them.

It takes a lot of energy to be upset, after two days of being upset, I'm drained of energy. I'm so tired. It seems like such a waste, but it's something I have to work though. I could pretend I don't get upset, but I don't see how lying, especially to myself, would help. Ranting and pouring my feelings into silent text doesn't make a lot of sense to me either, but I decided to try this thing called a "Blog," and I'll stick with it.

Opinion-wise, I do think it's ridiculous to gush in writing publicly online. If I were a reader I would wonder why this child is writing instead of crying to his mother. Or maybe not, maybe it would seem legitimate. I'm finally understanding that I don't actually understand the things I do, not until much, much later. I feel a certain way about things, and then I try to figure out why I feel such a way. In the end, I could be completely wrong about why I feel the way I feel. I could have labeled everything, the reasons and the conclusion, wrongly.

I said I've been breaking my own rules, and I have been. I realized even though I figured out that I need to forget people and places, that I can't live in the past, I never actually stepped through the door of this idea, I was standing on one side of the door and looking through it, but never making the steps. There are places I need to forget, places in time, places I can't recreate. Time is not a loop, one does not get to relive past moments. We have memory, we remember what came before and use that to point ourselves into the future. People are not who they were, people are dynamic, they are who they are; to confine them to their past is to hold them in chains, a prisoner in the mind of another person. The Mirror of Erised in the Harry Potter books shows people what they want most in the world, in fact Erised is desirE spelled backward. Facebook and the pictures therein are my Mirror of Erised, it contains everything I want and miss, all of Europe I visited, the people I met, the friends I gained. Staring at them for any amount of time instead of remembering to live my life is my biggest mistake. So, I've deactivated my account, I won't go back online on the website until the desire to look at Facebook all the time has passed.

As for my feelings, I've felt very low and unhappy for several days. I'm not entirely sure of my belief system, I believe in science, reason, and learning, and I want to believe in God, but the two ideas often compete in my mind. Some days I believe more in one, other days I believe more in the other. (Raised Christian, how can I say that mine is the correct religion? I've never been raised with the other religions, so being raised in a religion doesn't make it the correct one. Honestly though, with all I've learned about God and the world, I think it would be funny if all three of the major world religions are correct. As Christians we believe that Baptists, Methodists, Lutherans and all the other "Christian" religions have enough of the correct things in common for people of all of them to go to Heaven. I think it likely that Judaism, Christianity, and Islam all share enough of the correct beliefs to send good people to Heaven. The holy books of the religions build on each other, more or less. The Torah is basically the Old Testament of the Bible, the Qu'ran is like the New New Testament. We're supposed to love our neighbors and enemies, to do to others as we would have them do to us. If we're all going to Heaven, doesn't it make sense to do these things and not fight?) Sometimes I remember "The Screwtape Letters" by C.S. Lewis. In it, a Demon writes to his uncle in Hell and asks for advice, because it is the Demons that make humans do evil things. The Demons urge and make a human desire to do bad things, but can't actually force a human to do the things; in this way the guilt and blame, the fault, of bad things is the responsibility of the person who did them. On days I feel very low and depressed, I wonder if the Demon sent to influence me is doing a better job. I don't feel like myself during these days, I feel like a puppet watching himself being moved by a giant above him. If I keep my mind in the right place, after a few days I feel like myself again, but I always fear one day, one time, I won't have the strength to stay in the right place, that I will fall into a terrible hole in my life.

So, here I am, attempting Renovatio -- "a total rebirth." I will try to be the person I am, not the person I was.

Post-VD slump

The anger I felt so sharply yesterday has ebbed some. I was angry for being foolish and breaking my own rules. I have rules, principles actually, to keep my life simple so that I can understand living without getting lost in too many little details. It's my way of letting go and living without overthinking everything.

Valentine's Day was difficult too. At my age and in my region I should be married with 2 kids by now. I'm not. Almost all of my friends are. I felt like doing something yesterday, hanging with some friends, having fun, but everyone I talked to was busy with their boyfriend/girlfriend/wife/husband or something. I realized I'm almost the only single person I know. Normally this doesn't bother me, it's better to be single than with the wrong person, but yesterday, it just sucked balls.

Dear Diary: ... Fuck You

I'm not sure if I'm using this as a journal, a diary, a blog, or what. I don't even know if I'm writing it for myself or for it to be read. I do know this, no matter what I say here, I and I alone have to solve my problems, figure the things out in my life, and come up with the answers to my own questions. The notion that I'm going to whisper secrets in your ear, and that you're going to listen attentively and offer brilliant suggestions to help me is ludicrous. Basically this is a way for my mind to speak to itself, by putting things into words I can look at the situation from another perspective, take emotion and feeling out of the equation. Either that, or it's an insidious and ingenious way to persuade a lone reader to like me for my mind, to build the trust of someone in me through reading what my mind says. I'm not that clever, and I don't desire to be that deceitful. Beautiful thoughts are one thing, noble intentions and feelings are wonderful, but they mean nothing if they are not acted on. "The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions." Talk less, do more. I've had plenty of time to think, to have wonderful thoughts, 27 years I've done this. It doesn't mean anything, it's fake currency, because the truth, no matter how many times I think, feel, believe that the person in the mirror is not me... the truth is it is me. If the me I see myself as, and the me I see in the mirror are different, then it's my failing as a human, as a man, as a person. Seduced by inaction, I am someone other than my mind and ideas.

The truth is, I have ideals, ways I want the world and myself to act and be. I want to be kind, intelligent, and caring enough to have answers for peoples' problems. I like to be the one that helped, because it means the things I've done and learned are worthy of existing, they're worthy of my doing them. Money is meant to be spent, if it is not, then its function is moot.

The real truth? I'm a 27 year old boy. I keep waiting to grow up, but I'm a child, trying vainly to put all the pointy pieces of the world together in a smooth ball that everyone can share. I try to be kind, patient, thoughtful, and a "good person," but I'm not really. I try to act like I am, and sometimes I believe it, but never for very long. I'm emotional. I feel first and foremost, there's a great wash of feelings anytime anything happens to me. They're very nearly overpowering. I have highs and lows, when I'm truly happy I disturb people because they don't understand my emotion and can't feel it with me, and when I'm disappointed I upset people, it sucks all of the light out of the room. I don't have to do anything to do this, just feel. People say I have a contagious laugh, but it's not just the laugh, all of my emotions do this. My defense is to be cerebral. Apathetic. To cut myself entirely off from my emotions. I'm laid back, I don't get excited in happy situations, I don't lose control in emergencies, but I'm a constant buzzkill, and only with a few people do I truly come out, and usually I'm not even aware of it.

The real truth is I'm a very angry person. It's there constantly, usually controlled, normally beneath the surface. I'm not always angry, but it's like a flood just behind a dam, my first reaction to most things is anger. I'm told this isn't normal. I don't know, it's something that's always been with me. I think it's genetic. Aryans are known as an angry race, and my blonde hair, blue eyed family is no exception. Both sides of my family have an intense anger that is frightening when it comes out, controlling it is a battle. My brothers control it poorly, there are trails of broken things behind them to prove it. I must surely have it as much as them, to have anger constantly burning silently somewhere. It's why I hate to lose, and I handle disappointment poorly, because it's the same as losing. My solution is to not fuel the flames; I don't compete, I don't get involved, I don't get excited or put my emotions into activities. I've seen anger control people's lives, and being controlled by my anger would be losing the battle, and I refuse to lose. But, there comes a time, and I think that time is now, when holding my anger in check no longer works. I hold it back so much that I'm different on the outside than from the inside. My father has suppressed his anger for years, he's a very kind and caring person, but the anger part of him he never lets out, he never shows. It comes out when he sleeps. He fights in his sleep, he yells, he throws things without ever waking up. He taught me to never be angry, to always think and understand why I'm angry in order to control it... but he's held his anger inside too long and it poisons his dreams. My anger is a great source of strength for me, but it's also destructive. I've been afraid of letting it out too much all of my life, but I'm constantly seduced by violence. I think my anger is always at the fore because I'm not satisfied with my life, and holding it in and trying to pretend that it's the right way to be is actually wrong. I'm angry because I don't like my life, I like only parts of it, and anger is the tool I have to change it, to win.

Ultimately it's better to be honest and hated for what I am than pitied for being an incomplete person, a person uncomfortable around others, a shy person, always holding something back, always waiting and looking for the people I don't have to wear a polite mask in front of. And maybe if I stop suppressing my ire it will dissipate, it will have a vent and I can be me without thinking about it. Until then, I'm going to be angry until it's done. I'm not going to hold it back or feel guilty about it any longer.

People

"The words that are spoken at a funeral
are spoken too late for the man that is dead.
What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral,
to sit at the front and hear what was said....
Maybe to say a few things yourself."
(from the movie Waking Ned Divine)


"Polite, aggressive if necessary, friendly, mature, patient, untidy but smart"
(a friend's opinion about me)



We never know what people think of us. I think we are too embarrassed to tell people how they really affect us, and we're too embarrassed to hear how we affect people. I don't think any normal person likes to be hoisted upon a pedestal, it's too high and we're afraid of falling, we're labeled with terms we don't have the perspective to understand, we react modestly because suddenly the other person's expectations are too high, and we who are being complimented are afraid of disappointing the person complimenting us. It seems only when in situations that we are dying, or parting from someone for what might be forever, are we allowed to say what we think, and only at these times can we accept what another person thinks of us, as if to say, "Don't be so unkind. You may not survive to pass this way again, and these be the last friendly words you'll hear" (Barbossa POTC). Are we so desperate? The times of dying we want whatever comfort can be had, and the times of parting we know we will never have to disappoint the complimenter, is that what makes these times okay?


I don't like these rules. I've grown up in a culture where everyone (or most people) give lip-service, where people say "nice" things because it's the "polite" thing to do, where true honesty and true compliments are rarely given, and when they are one or both of the people are uncomfortable. I've determined to tell people what I think of them, to pay them the compliments they deserve, because the truth is, we never know how we affect other people unless they tell us. It's the same concept as Miracle on 34th Street. People can go their entire lives feeling like a failure, unaware of what they've really accomplished, unaware of who they have affected and helped. They can easily feel miserable and low, and just a single thank you from a sincere person can change life; it can let them know their place, their role in the world, and make all the difference at the time when that person needs it.

Recently I've discovered some effects I've had on other's lives. One friend told me I constantly remind him there's a world outside of the one he's living in, it makes him want to better himself. I had no idea. This kind of influence is important, and to find out you have that kind of effect is humbling. I found out too that my younger brother labels me "teacher." Not teacher like the person you suffer at school, but someone who teaches, someone who knows things worth learning. I never knew this, I spent years thinking he ignored everything I said to him, but I'm told he quotes me often. This changes one's life. It's such a little thing to have feedback, but it's a pivot point. Talking for years to someone you think is not listening you are tempted to give up, but to find out they listen, and even more to find out they have a high opinion of you??? That's amazing, and changes everything you think about yourself.

People can tell you many things, but these things don't matter unless you believe them. Your parents can compliment you all the time, but they are your parents; you expect that. Your parents can tell you you're a great writer, and it's wonderful, but when a writer tells you you're a great, it has a different, stronger, meaning. When you see someone living the life you were too afraid to live, it becomes easier and you feel the freedom to embrace that life.

It's said, "When the student is ready the teacher will present himself." There are several ways to understand this, the most romantic being that when the student is ready, the teacher will come and find him, but this is also the most unlikely. More likely the student is finally ready to learn something, and when he is, he will find someone to teach it to him. I think that sometimes, when one is very lucky, the perfect teacher comes along at the right time, it's a mixture of the romantic and the likely. I've experienced this a few times, but definitely the strongest when I was in Germany, when I was in a transition point in my life; I found the most perfect teacher to teach me about who I was and who I wanted to be, after meeting this person and spending time together, I suddenly felt that the person I was, and the person I wanted to be -- was me. And the person that did this for me, the person that finally gave me back my life and made me realize that who I am is exactly who I'm supposed to be, did this for me without ever trying to, without ever knowing it had such a changing effect on my life.

So many times we never know what effect we have on others. How many lives do we change without ever knowing?

And just as important, how to we tell and thank those people who change us?


Occasionally

As you walk this life,

you stumble into persons

who are truly wonderful.

After, you realize it is they

who make this worth living,

and everything else is paltry,

but a play of pale color

and shadow.

Getting What You Want

I don't understand how I can change my mind so much in one day. Yesterday life was very clear, I knew exactly what I wanted from life, but today... today I don't remember. Actually, I do remember, I just don't remember why. Yesterday I felt deep down, in my gut, what I wanted; I felt it with conviction and certainty. Today... today it feels like it doesn't matter, it's not important anymore. Yesterday I was so happy to finally feel so strongly what I wanted, where I wanted to go with my life, everything was clear, and today it's like watching a recording, seeing pictures, of an adventure you had yesterday, you remember, but the rush is gone.

I think maybe I'm out of touch with reality, I'm now becoming insulated in my life, and I can't see or feel what's happening outside of my daily routine. It's something that plagues all Americans I think. Well, at least most Americans. The country is so big, it takes so long to travel outside of your state and even longer to travel outside of your accent, and it's even more difficult to travel outside of your culture. It makes you think that "THE World" is "YOUR World." I wonder if this is the reason the rest of the world thinks Americans are self-centered and dumb; judging from what I've met of Americans in Europe, I can't say the world is wrong in what they think, but I think there's a reason for Americans being the way they are.

Anyway, I see all that is around me in my day, and I remember traveling to so many other countries and hearing their languages and seeing the different ways of life, but now it's like it's not real, like all of it is just a movie I watched or a fairy-tale I read. That is what Europe is for me, it's a fairy-tale I've read about all of my life. I study History, I know the stories of many things that happened, and for me my fairy-tale is real. I can go there, I have been to the place where the 7 nation army defeated Napoleon, I have been to where the Vikings lived and have seen their descendants, I have crossed the strait where Europe turns into Asia... all of it is real, and there is a magical feeling being in these places you have only read about.

Right now I can only see the life around me, I feel only the life around me; I have to remind myself that the magical fairy-tale places I've been are real, that the wonderful people I met are real, and that I can be there and be real too, I won't disappear into dust when I get there. I have lived there before, and I became used to the daily magic, but now at home I know that the magic is missing. I must get back to it, whatever it takes, to where I feel most alive. I think that is part of the certainty I had yesterday. =) Now just to do it....

Realization

I realized today that I've been approaching life the wrong way; I've been trying to recreate the past. Not the past in general, but the bits and pieces of the past I love, the parts I'm forever attached to, the great things in life that I believe are worth of existence. This is a mistake, the past is past, gone, vorbei. Those past moments will never exist again because the situation that created them, every little thing that happened to make that instant, that measure of time, take place is also gone. You cannot recreate a perfect moment, all you can do is enjoy it, remember it, and look forward to the next. How ridiculous is it to go around trying to recreate these things; like trying to finish a dream on your own, doesn't it aquire a plastic "fake" feeling living in a false world, recreating the past of yesterday, yesteryear, once upon a time? Trying to go back to the way things were before... it never works, and it would quickly become boring even if it did work. A plastic existence, the record player stuck in loop.

It works this way with friends too; close friends, good friends, friends you may have lost for whatever reasons. Forget trying to recreate. Remember the past, remember your experiences, your choices, they are what make you who you are, but do not be bound by them. Don't allow them to define you, to make you static and predictable. I knew this rule before, but i had forgotten it and broken it.

Today I realized I have to forget people; I have to forget the way they constaintly influenced my life in the moment. It's not really forgetting them, it's letting go; it's realizing you don't need to mourn their loss, you don't need to recreate the situation of the past to get them back, you work instead toward tomorrow and tomorrow's possibilities. Perhaps in the future you can rejoin with a person, a friend, whomever, but don't rejoin and expect things to be as they were... that time is over. Rejoin and look to where you can go together.