That's What She Said

I haven't lived a lot of life, but I have lived more than I used to have lived. And that is more than some others have lived, while being less than many. Anyway, regardless of how much relative life I have, there are a few things I've learned. Well, not many things, really. Just a couple. Well, one thing.

Life is hard.

It's true. You know it, I know it, your mom knows it (ha...yer mom), and even Ghandi and Siddhartha knew it. That is one thing that is true for every human that has ever gasped a breath on this space orb we call Earth. Sometimes, thought, we forget this fact. We forget it because life isn't the same kind of hard for everyone. Some people struggle to simply get enough food to stay alive. Others fight depression. A lot of people have to endure racism or sexism. Some people fight poverty and some people have never worried about money. Life is hard for everyone, but it is also different for everyone. And this fact that I have learned has taught me the second thing I learned (I lied about only knowing one thing).

I don't know what your life has been.

It's true. I don't know what you have lived through. And because of that I will not judge you. I will try to understand you. I will try to help you be happy. But I will never fully comprehend the life that you have lived. And that is okay. I don't need to. I don't need to know what trials you have faced to know that life is hard. That is the crazy thing. Life will always be hard regardless of where we come from.

Wouldn't life be nicer if we could all remember that? Instead of yelling at that guy on the road, remember that he might also be in a hurry. The cashier who didn't smile back at you isn't trying to be a jerk. He just has a job he doesn't like.

I can never know what your life has been. But I can always accept who you are and treat you like a person. I can love you regardless of your behavior. I can laugh with you and help you smile. I can walk with you down this rocky road we call life.

The Almighty Should

First, let's get this out of the way. This is post number one hundred. Whoopty shit. Let the rejoicing commence.

Now, on to business.

I was recently asked by my therapist what I want. I answered the question with some bullshit about wanting to be happy or something. But before I left, he asked me to think about it. It seems he wasn't satisfied with my answer. And as it turns out, neither am I. Because saying I want to be happy is a cop out answer. It doesn't say anything. Of course I want to be happy. Who doesn't? But happiness is a result, not a goal. You don't just "get" happiness. Happiness happens when your needs and desires are fulfilled. So the answer to what I want is not just "to be happy," but to be fulfilled. All of you probably already knew this (why didn't you tell me, jerks), but I am just now realizing it. Or rather, it is just now being cognitively processed.

What do I want?

A lot of my life has been spent doing what I "should" do. ...After several tries at this sentence, it boils down to this; I have a hard time thinking of any decision I have ever made that wasn't based on some kind of "should." These "shoulds" superseded thought on my own part. I never thought about whether I agreed with what I was doing. I never thought about what I really wanted. I never thought about what goals I wanted to pursue. That isn't to say that that I would have made different decisions. Hell, I have no idea what I would have done. I may have done everything exactly the same. But the constant guidance by The Almighty Should has landed me in a place where I don't feel like I have ever been in control of my life. And at the end of the day, that is what I want.

I want to feel like I am deciding my life.

I want to think through things. I want to consider my options. I want to find out that I truly believe passionately in something, and then I want to act on it. I recoil at the idea of accepting something just because I was told. Or having an opinion that was handed to me by The Almighty Should of whatever social context I happen to be in. I want to decide for myself. I want to captain my own vessel.

But you know what?

I'm secretly terrified. What if I start choosing my own destiny and find out that I am totally shit at directions? What if I start chasing after the things I want to do, only to fail miserably?

And so I am stuck. On one hand, there is oppression by The Almighty Should. On the other, The Pit of Failure.

I guess in the end, I'd rather die flying.

_{P.S. Please click the hyperlink. Stellar work of art.}

Depression

One of the great goals of my life is to help people understand how life looks through eyes that aren't theirs. A lot of my life was (read: is) spent not realizing this and subsequently making stupid decisions. However, I do not wish to be this way. It almost always leads to someone experiencing some kind of negative emotion. Anger, sadness, sugar...and I don't like to be the cause of that. I don't like it when people look at my life through the lens of their life experiences. Well, I guess they have no other way to look at things.... I think what I meant is, I don't like when people judge me without seeing the universe that I'm looking at. And because I don't like that, I try to offer people the courtesy of acceptance. And, like a Hare Krishna, I am trying to share this thing I think is good.

In my quest to share the gospel of acceptance (or tolerance or love or whatever you want to call it) I have become rather honest. Really honest. Maybe too honest. I tend to overshare on occasion. Which likely is some sort of subconscious tactic to make my neuroses seem normal. I mean, if I casually talk about it, it isn't shameful right? Sure.

So for today's topic of conversation, we are going to talk about depression. Depression is a strange beast. It really is hard to understand without experiencing it. For most of my life, I thought depressed people were just being lazy and it was all some sort of mental bullshit and they should just zip up their man-suit and get it together. I was wrong, and I feel bad for judging people. In an effort to help someone understand how depression affects your life (spoiler: it affects everything), I am writing this post. You should also read this post. It is a very enjoyable read and nails a couple nails right on the round, flat part at the top.

I am trying to think of some good analogies to help you understand what depression is like. First thing I need to do is determine who my audience is. You probably aren't someone who used to be able to see, and is now blind. You probably aren't someone who lost the ability to fly. But are almost certainly someone who has eaten a frozen burrito, and I can work with that.

Remember that time you microwaved your burrito ninety seconds too long? Remember how you were watching some quality lunch-time programming and forgot to check if the burrito was hot? Remember how it burned the holy shit out of your tongue? Depression is like trying to taste things for the two days after that burrito. You know these cupcakes have flavor, you just can't figure out what it is, and only vaguely remember what they are supposed to taste like.

On the off chance you aren't a burrito person, I'll try another one. Find that giant scar you have. You know, the one from the war. Now poke it. Use something that isn't your finger. Use that shuriken you have lying around. Depression feels like that. You know something is poking you. You can tell that you should be feeling something, but you really don't. The only reason you didn't accidentally draw blood is the years of self-preservatory habits you have.

Now let's try to look at how this applies to a human life. Let's look at how this might change your view of someone you know, or someone you knew, or someone you might know someday. When you lose all the emotions, you lose all the reasons to do things. You lose the motivation to act. And often the motivation to live. With the will to act, the will to live and all those emotions gone, you are left with an enormous void inside of you. That void become your new resource pool. It becomes the Apathy Well. Unfortunately, this new resource pool only does two things: not care, and destroy. Not caring is a pretty obvious side effect. It is called the Apathy Well, after all. But the second side effect, the urge to destroy, is the weird one. This destructive tendency can take a lot of forms. Self-harm, other-harm, meta-harm....(I don't actually know what the last one means, but it seems bad). I have a theory about why this tendency develops.

In the mind of a depressed person, pretty much anything can become an enormous stressor. I mean, if you don't have the motivation to do anything, pretty much everything becomes an impending failure. The very act of putting on pants becomes an exercise in futility, because you weren't going to look good anyway, so fuck it...underpants all day. When everything is bound to become a failure you begin to want less everything in your life. So you destroy stuff. Jobs are just failure holes. So I'll quit going and get fired. No more job worries. College is just a formalized way to say "you aren't good enough," so if I fail out I don't have to hear that anymore. Families? Disappointment machines. Sabotage those relationships and I no longer have to hear how they wish I weren't such a waste of the family name.

Are you starting to see it?

Even if you aren't, I want to describe what I think is the weirdest thing. Now, I know everyone is different, but my depression has been very self-aware. I know exactly how stupid all of my decisions and actions are. I know that they are depressive. And I do it anyway. Because meh....it's too hard to fix it, and I'd probably fail anyway.

By every logical system I can think of, that is the worst decision making imaginable. But that doesn't make it any less real. Knowing it's stupid doesn't suddenly bring all the flavor back to life. Someone who knows they are depressed and making bad decisions is still feeling life through that scar tissue. Still tasting life with a burnt tongue. And that is a really hard way to live.

Not to say that a depressed person can't live. They can. We laugh, we dance, we sing, we live fairly normal lives.

Now, this thing that I've written isn't meant to make someone sad, or get people to bring me sympathy cookies (which you are totally welcome to do, btw). It is meant to allow a glimpse of life through someone else's eyes. Yeah, I may have gotten some things wrong. I may have written poorly. I may even have said some things that made you uncomfortable. But I hopefully made you think, too. And maybe that will give you the perspective you need to help someone someday. I know it has helped me.

Painfully Beautiful

Have you ever been talking to someone and used or heard the phrase "painfully beautiful?" Have you ever thought about it? Why would somebody say that? Isn't beauty a good thing? Isn't pain a bad thing? Why would you stick them together? Is it like when you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts? Too much of a good thing?

I don't think so.

I think I have an idea of what "painfully beautiful" means. It may not be true for you. You may not agree with me. That's okay. But hopefully by reading through my thoughts you will gain some perspective for another's life. Maybe that will help you somewhere. Or rather, maybe it will help someone else.

I really want you to understand my thoughts, so I am going to breakdown some things here so we have a platform to work from. What is something beautiful? Well, some people are beautiful. Some art works are beautiful. Sometimes Mother Gaia is beautiful. I might even say that time can be beautiful, if you only look at isolated chunks of it. Weddings? Beautiful (hopefully). First kiss? Beautiful. (Again, hopefully.) First children, graduations, jobs, promotions, new cars, new phones, great cakes....lots of moments can be beautiful. But this just leads me to ask, "What could all these disparate things possibly have in common?"

They are all good. They all bring joy to the lives they touch (Except sometimes weddings. I think I've seen a movie about that once...) And that is what makes them beautiful. The light they put into lives. The pure, undefinable goodness that we all know. All of the things I've listed are beautiful and good, but there are a few things that are exceptionally good, surpassingly beautiful, without which life feels incomplete. I hesitate to make a list here, because opinions and lives are so infinitely varied, but I'm sure you can think of a few things. Go ahead. Do it now. I'll wait.

Do you have your list? Good. Now think about everything on it. Think about each thing individually. Think about them together. Think about your life in relation to your list. Now imagine a life where you know all of these things, and you know that none of them will ever be a part of your life. Really tell yourself that you will never be loved. That you will never have children. Whatever it is you put on your list, imagine knowing that you can never have or experience it. Did you feel that? That was pain. Not because of any one thing causing you pain. A diploma can't hurt you. But you know how good it is. How beautiful the moment you when you receive it. And the pain comes from the sense of loss. Losing the beautiful, watching it disappear from your life and knowing you have to keep walking even though the light will be a little dimmer.

To me, that is "painfully beautiful."

Please, Really Look Into My Eyes.....

It is extraordinary how unintentionally selfish I can become. In my head I am a kind, caring, and selfless person. In reality, I am so focused on myself that I can't even see what people around me are experiencing and feeling. Sometimes I just need a reminder.

I didn't used to care about this. In fact, I used to make a hobby of annoying people. I was so good at it that you can unfortunately see little bits of that in my personality today. I still get a kick out of pushing people's buttons. Just ask Kara about that. Then, one day, for no reason I can explain, I decided that I didn't like it and I wanted to change. Perhaps that was the moment I started growing up. About that time, I was given this book to read. That was the book that began my journey.

Now, by saying I began a journey, I don't want you to think that I have finished it. I'm not writing to tell you about my transformation into a beautiful butterfly. No, my journey is more like a chaotic, fumbling walk through an unfamiliar house at night where the kids don't put away their Legos. Lots of stubbed toes, swearing, and tipped vases. But this journey has taught me something.

The truest thing in life is honestly connecting with people.

I wish that I had more of this connection. but I let everything distract me. I let the easy distractions that technology provides fill up my time so that I wonder what happened and why I haven't built a pottery wheel yet. I complain to myself about how nobody called me today and I'm going to die alone. I complain about this while I sit in a dark basement in front of a computer. And so I need reminders.

Tonight I watched this video again. Please watch it. It is beautiful. What she says feels so very true to me. The connections she talks about are so very real to me. And because she has reminded me, I am going to quit complaining. I am going to quit wondering why I feel lonely, and I am going to go out and see you. Really see you. I am going to do this, and I am going to be happy, and I am going to give you a little bit of my life, and you are going to give me a little bit of yours, and we are both going to be happier. Or we are going to split somebody's burden of sadness and be less sad. I am going to do this, and my life will be better.

At least until the next time I forget.

Creating a Scotch Korean

I am, like a Scotch Korean, a contradiction. I live a life in two simultaneous mental states. It could even be said that they are conflicting states. Before I explain why, I need to explain something else. I need to explain to you why I love art. And not just art, but all art. When I say art, I am speaking of painted or drawn art, sculpted art, musical art, performance art, theater arts....all kinds of art.

I love it.

Or rather, I love the idea of it. Sometimes I hate it. Most of the art that university told me was great left me feeling very meh. But that doesn't mean that the whole concept of art is meh. In fact, the concept of art blows me completely away. Why? Let me tell you.

As a species, humans have specialized in communication. It could be said that our ability to communicate is what put us so far ahead of the rest of nature. Not just that we communicate, (hell, macaques communicate) but that we can communicate complex ideas. Something beyond the basic mammalian "Shit there is a lion/tiger/dinosaur that wants to eat me!" Most mammals can do that. Many mammals can communicate all kinds of things. They can tell you where food is. They can tell you that you should make babies with them. They can tell you that you are no longer welcome with the herd. But humans...humans can discuss the feasibility of sending people to Mars. When was the last time you heard macaque talking about space? You didn't. Only humans have that level of communication.

Despite all this specialized communication and all of our fancy vocabularies, there are still some things that we are unable to discuss. One area that words fall especially short is emotions. Humans have been trying to express emotion verbally since before we invented verbs. In fact, I'm pretty sure words were invented because some cro-magnon man wanted to tell some cro-magnon lady, "Baby, I dig you!" But that hasn't stopped us from trying. Luckily, somewhere around 1800, somebody invented art. Finally, a way to convey emotion that isn't hampered by those silly words.

And because it isn't bound by vocabulary's limits, art has a remarkable power. Great art has the power to capture a particular moment in the life of the artist, folding all his emotions and thoughts into one unique creation. One frozen moment of her soul. And then she can give that moment to someone.

Now, I hesitate to post any examples of art I think is great, lest I start an argument about it's greatness and detract from my point. Art is incredible. It is powerful and unique and transcends all barriers. But what does this discussion have to do with my being Scotch Korean?

I love to create art. But I create it from my life and my experience and the moments I am living. When I am creating, I don't feel as though there is much variety happening inside me. I feel very sad/happy/depressed/frustrated, and it seems to be all that I feel. And I feel it until I am done creating. Sometimes I have to come back to the emotion three or four times, but is always the same thing for the entire creative process.

And after I have created, I look back and see contradictions. Like any good (read: not terrible) musician, I tend to write music in a state of inebriation or deep emotion. My life has a rather obvious lack of inebriation, so my music is written from emotion. And sadly, the most frequent potent emotion is bad. So I write sad songs of addiction and heartbreak and suicide. But looking back at these creations, I see a common theme: all of them have a thread of hope. Woven through the indulgent "I am so sad, so very very sad" lyrics is this weird, sometimes subtle voice that is whispering at you to look up and see the sunset behind the clouds. This is my contradiction.

But in realizing this, I think I have finally figured out why I love to create. Feeling these sad emotions sucks. It does. You know, because you've felt them. I hate feeling sad, and I hate when others feel sad. I wish so bad that I could fix them. Make them glad. Give them a reason to smile at the rain. And this is why I create art. I try to capture that moment my soul is experiencing. That moment of exquisitely meloncollie hope. I want to give that moment to someone who is feeling depressed, and maybe they will grab onto that thread of hope and decide that life is okay. Yeah, it is total shit sometimes, but maybe there are some things worth experiencing.

Right now, my life and circumstance don't allow me to get that much of my creating to other people. But there is plenty of art already created, and I can share that with people. And maybe a few friends who need it will be able to experience my art.

And maybe I will need some of the art you have created.

Scars

The more life you've lived is just more sorrow seen.
Every sadness you feel leaves a mark where it bleeds.
So old age is scars, and youth is naive.
I've seen kids of 18 so much older than me.

But youth, she is pretty, she laughs in our dreams
And try though we might, she will always retreat.
So reaching and grasping, we clutch at her feet
Until sorrow and sadness bring us to our knees.

Then sighing we stand with regret in our eyes.
Regret for the hurt, for the sin, for the lies.
But lurking respect in the back of our minds
Reminds of the wisdom we learned from the lies.

And now you admit you're no longer naive.
Your youth, she has fled, though young you may be.
And you'd never give up what you learned how to see,
Though hearts of the wise feel much deeper things.

So onward we march, all so bitter and pleased.
The mistress of youth just a faint memory.
And the scars that we wear full of pride on our sleeves
Remind us that beauty is earned before seen.

Brown Paper Bags Aren't Always Full of Poop

The thing about life is, it never stops happening. Sometimes, you want nothing more than to stop it for just a couple minutes, an hour. It might be that something wonderful is happening, and you don't want it to end. Or maybe you are having one of those days where you clean your glasses with hair spray, and you really just wish you could step out of life for a couple hours. But, like a freight train full of memories, life just keeps barreling down the tracks.

Too often, we focus on how terrifying it can be to have a train headed for us. A lot happens in life (train full of memories, remember) and it is so easy to paint our walls with the bad stuff. The bad job, the failed class, the painful breakup, the gross body.... Those are such heavy things to carry around. If those bad things are the rocks we put in our knapsack, there is no way we will get off the tracks in time.

This has happened to me many times. At any given time I could tell you probably 12 negatives I am thinking about. But I realize how bad it is. So I have taken to focusing on good things in my life. In the interest of motivating you to do likewise, I am going to share a few of my favorite things.

Rock climbing. Yes, I know this is a climbing gym. All you purists can take your pretentious opinions elsewhere. I climb in the gym, and I like it. I like the feel of moving across the wall, between the holds. I love forcing my body to do hard movements. I love feeling the power in my muscles as I pull my body higher on the wall. When I am climbing, everything else just doesn't matter. I am climbing. I'll think about life when I'm done.

Another thing I love is music. I love writing music. I love playing music. I love listening to music. At this point in my life, I am writing music with my friend Nicolle Okoren. We are actually writing some really great stuff. I'll let you know when we play a show. The music I am listening to currently is also bringing me a lot of joy. You will find a sampling below.

There really isn't a lot of terribly deep ideas in this block of text. Mostly, I just want to encourage you all to remember what is good about your life. I know that it isn't always going to be rainbows and butterflies. But sometimes it is. And those memories are what I choose to paint the room of my life. I am curious...what are your glad things? Please tell me what you love. Maybe I will too.