The Lonliest Toddler

By this point in my life, people expect me to know what I’m doing most of the time. I’m supposed to know how to pay my taxes, keep up on my auto maintenance, and call a landlord about leaky faucets. The same can be said of romance. In the over thirty romantic arena, there are a lot of well traveled individuals. People who have dated and divorced and dated again. People who have raised children. People who have fallen into and lost love more times than I’ve lost my keys. (Incidentally, I never lose my keys, so that analogy doesn’t really work for me. But you get what I mean.)

And then you have me. I have no idea what I’m doing.

When it comes to dating, I am the equivalent of a toddler running around learning what happens when I run into things. I’m having a real good time seeing all the new and cool stuff. I really like the activity of running. And I’m terrible at it, so I keep running into walls or tables or legos. And every time I run into something, I cry and scream and act like someone is taking off my fingers one at a time. You’ve all heard this toddler scream. It’s the one where you look at a child who is convinced this is the end and say, “Oh, come on. You’re not even two feet tall. There’s no way you’re hurt that badly.” But from the point of view of the toddler, it’s the worst pain he’s ever experienced. Of course he’s going to wail about it. Nothing has ever hurt this much ever.

It does make a certain kind of sense. I thought I was tired in college, but then I got up for work at 5:30 AM for a year and a half. As a child, I thought I understood boredom...Then I worked in a call center. And I thought that stubbing my toe was painful until I smashed my thumb with a box truck. The point here is that experience lends a lot of perspective to your subsequent experiences. And if you have no prior experiences, how do you gauge the severity of a hurt?

Honestly, I don’t have an answer here. I don’t know how to judge the severity of a hurt by any measure other than saying it hurts more or less than previous pain. And of course, there is the pain scale with the faces.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about my proclivity to crush too hard in much too short a time, and the subsequent (and inevitable) crash that I always find myself in. The Format has a lyric that has always resonated with me:

“Suddenly between sheets and eyelids I am reminded why I don’t do this.
I fall in love far too quickly. I never want her to forget me…”

It’s that falling in love too quickly bit that always gets me. Now hold on to your comment horses...I know that falling in love is not what I’m doing. That takes time and work and pain and joy and lots of time and a few phone calls and probably one sassy friend. Or at least that’s what I’ve surmised from watching all those Lifetime documentaries. But that is kind of the point. I don’t know what it is to truly fall in love. I have only ever fallen into infatuation. And at my age, that starts to get weird.

As a mid-thirties male, I really ought to be able to hear “Let’s just be friends” without needing a weekend to mourn the loss of….what? My ego? What did I lose? I didn’t have anything but the future my imagination got too excited to stop creating. But the problem is that I have no context to put it into. I don’t have a failed marriage. Or a successful one either. I don’t have a long relationship to compare to. Hell, I don’t have anything. All I have are these passing crushes that end in complete normality, and I somehow turn them into the emotional distress of losing the love of my life. Because, as far as I know, it’s just about the most painful experience in a relationship.

I didn’t have a thesis here. No grand soapbox to lecture from. And really, I don’t feel there is a point to be made. I’m not wrong to feel this way, and it doesn’t make me broken. It’s just something about me that I know and work around. But I do think there is a lesson here. Perhaps it is just the lesson that I am unique and different, and the only way I can live life is from my point of view. Or maybe it is just to put this out there for another person to find and realize they aren’t the only one dealing with this particular quirk. Anyway, here it is, and I would love to hear your thoughts on the matter. 

Writing Fight (vs Emily Steinbutt)

Everything is predictable at 5:37 in the morning. Nobody goes out at that hour unless they have to. I see the same people every morning. There's Marta, going to some job that requires those black "comfy" shoes that old people always wear. Jeff arrives at 5:36 without fail. One day he was late. I could tell everyone noticed. But when he showed up with only 30 seconds to spare, nobody said anything. They just relaxed a little, tension leaving their shoulders, and sank back into the routine. It has always fascinated me that I know all these people, they see each other every day, and not one of them knows another.

There's one woman, though...she grabs my attention. I see her most days, but there's no consistent schedule. Different times of day, different days of the week. She makes a point of isolating herself. She keeps her ear-buds in. She sits small, at the back, but with her head up. Confident, but avoiding eye contact. She will never talk to anyone, but I can tell she likes to be looked at. She never sits behind anything. And she is always showing some skin. Her clothes are nice, and she's well kept; but I've never seen her actually dressed up. Always casual. I wonder what she's feeling. Intentionally alone, but so intentionally appealing. Who is she hoping to draw in?

Only a few minutes to wonder, and she's gone. I hope she's smiling next time.

Jesus, Lao Tzu, and Bill Nye walk into a bar together....

I have had some interesting conversations with a friend of mine over the last few weeks. Some of these have revolved around the conflict that the religious often have with the non-religious. Before you say I am making up this conflict, think back on how many marriages have ended due to religious differences. Or, if you don't know any, go to the exmormon subreddit and browse for a minute. You can almost always find a few stories about a marriage ending due to someone leaving the faith. And the mormons are not unique in this. A quick google search pulls up lots of results.

Anyway, we know it exists. But realizing that begs the question, why? Why does this religious conflict exist? One may as well ask why there are religious wars. You could easily answer that question with an exasperated, "God only knows." But then the other party may respond with a quip about God not existing, which starts another argument about deity...and suddenly we have an idea about how these conflicts begin.

It seems that, regardless of where you stand on the issue, you stand somewhere. Most people have some kind of opinion about God, and it isn't hard to end up in an emotionally charged discussion. Something in the human causes her to wonder about these things. At some point in our lives, we all wonder and form our own opinions. It may be in your twenties, or not until you are on your deathbed. But the questions will be asked, and the opinions will be formed.

Humans have spend much of their existence destroying someone else's gods, and replacing them with new ones they like better. Or, in the case of the Romans, they just rename the old ones and pretend it's a new pantheon. Kind of like how all the Christian sects claim they are different, and the way they worship Jesus is the best way. I'm not mocking any of these, or saying any is right or wrong. I'm just illustrating how easy it is to find this pattern in human society without even looking hard.

But why do we keep doing it? It is almost like something inside the human needs a relationship with a greater being. For some, they meet that need through a relationship with Jesus. For others, it is a relationship with The Tao. And still others will find it in science, or just the greater potential of human kind. Now, you could argue that I'm making a stretch with this. "But Dan, humanism is nothing like Catholicism!" You're right. But they both serve the purpose of giving the individual a purpose. Of providing that Greater Something that we all find so fascinating. And it is that very universality, I think, that gives us a start point in resolving the conflict.

All of us need to fins some way to fulfill this need, the same way we all need to fill the need to eat. And if we all feel it, why would I begrudge anyone their solution? As a bicyclist, I do not resent the runner for staying healthy on foot. I don't get mad at the vegetarian for not eating a hamburger. The overwhelming variety of people on this planet means that there will be an equal variety of religious preference. The Mormon who drinks caffeine and watches R movies, or the Jehovah's Witness who has a birthday party...all these people trying to meet this spiritual need produce an endless number of religious iterations. Lots of variety. Lots of potential fights.

Well, maybe Science can help. It came up with sanitation, and took us to space, so maybe it can figure out what to do with this hotbed of potential religious arguments. So far, Science has demonstrated  that we are unquestionably linked to our physical being. Everything that I am is somehow connected to my brain and my body. We can show this empirically, in a way that really can't be argued. But, this isn't the whole story. It doesn't explain why so many of us (all of us?) want to connect to some kind of Greater Being. It doesn't explain the mysticism that so often occurs in human lives. It can explain an individual experience, sure. Sometimes. But there is no explanation for the mystical predisposition so often found in people. At least, not that I am aware of.

But...

It doesn't matter.

We don't have to explain why this spiritual urge is so widely manifest in humans. Sure, it would be nice if we could. I would love to really understand it. But the fact remains that we can't. And I would posit that it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter for the simple fact that it exists, and we are experiencing it. This mystical draw is a part of my human experience, and it doesn't care that I can explain it. Telling me that God is calling me has the exact same impact on my life as saying that I'm having a mini seizure in the brainocampo lobe of the brain. Both result in me feeling like God is telling me to rally the French behind King Charles VII. And in that moment when we are confronting the reality of our perception of the world. it doesn't matter why we see it that way. It matters that we do see it that way. Because that is the reality we have to operate in.

And that, I think, is the answer. All of these conflicts stem from a lack of understanding. The come about because we don't realize or have forgotten that everyone is trying to wade through the same shitty swamp we call life, and this thing they have latched onto makes it easier. And that is a beautiful thing. Personally, I don't adhere to any particular religion. I think that some of the claims they make are patently absurd. But I have friends, like my friend I mentioned at the beginning, who very sincerely believe in their faith. For her, religion is integral to her life. She uses it to cope with hard things, and lets it enhance happy things. And her faith is beautiful. I love it. I love it despite the fact that I don't believe the same thing. And I feel that way about so many different faiths. It helps you to be happy, so I love it.

That is my message, I guess. My point. These philosophical differences don't have to be sticking points of argument. They can instead be delightfully varied ideas to share with the people around you, allowing them a chance to taste life the way you experience it. And maybe in all of this sampling and sharing you'll find something new that makes your journey a little easier.

Days

Looking at a Changing Whorl

I am a fairly caring person. I have an ability to care for people and understand and accept people. This is an aspect of my personality that I value quite a lot, in part because it was lost for a time. I lost this gift when I was in the midst of my depressive period. As it turns out, it is hard to care for others when what little energy you have left is being used to wish you were dead.

However that period passed and I learned to love again. I remembered how to feel compassion. How to forgive. How to look past mistakes and see beautiful souls. And I reveled in this. I was ecstatic to have my personality back. I had worked really hard to get back to this place, and now that I was arrived I decided I was done. I had done my work, and now I was going to relax and enjoy the fruits of my labors. Then, ever so slowly, I started coming down with a case of the Fuck-its. I began to notice that I wanted to punch instead of hug. To swear instead of compliment. I was fast on my way to retracing my steps back to the self I didn't much want to be.

Now for a change of tense.

I do not want to slide back to that dark place of negativity. I am not that person. While inactivity does allow entropy to pull me back there, my natural state is much more full of love. And I have come to realize that positive energy is not something that is self-perpetuating. I am finding that I need to actively seek a persons positive qualities. Then I repeat them to myself in a what is almost a litany against hate.

I am someone trying to be happy. You are someone trying to be happy. I have much in the way of acceptance and support to offer you. You have much of life to teach me. But unless I repeat my litany against it, the entropic nature of humanity will draw me in towards the vicious and exophobic nexus of hateful oblivion. Therefore, I must actively fight against the inner decay. I will choose to list your good qualities, rather than browse instagram. I will listen to your story instead of listening to myself. I will consider your value without trying to turn it to my gain.

In short, I will love you.

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.}