Let's turn it around here though. I handed out candy today! It was fun. Kids are cute. I like it when they say thank you. And I had a really good lunch today. It was fun to just relax and chat outside a school setting. Plus, I went on my first run in two weeks. It was literally the worst thing ever and my lungs almost exploded, but it was pretty decent...even though my legs are going to be so sore tomorrow. And it was only a half day!
But I'm still thinking...
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Ghosts Are Good Company
In line with Halloween, I figured it would be only right to talk about ghosts.
"I would have died. Just to hear voices. Just to see faces. I was so alone. I went deep. Into my graveyard. I found my ghosts there. They're with me still."
Ghosts are manifestations of things that were once in this world. They're typically ethereal beings that are meant to haunt, but they basically serve as a memory. Of course, they're not always happy memories. In the Harry Potter universe, only the ones who fear death and moving on, the "next great adventure" as Dumbledore puts it, will chose to come back as ghosts. Being a ghost, in the physical sense, is not a good thing. They are destined to live their entire life in anguish, watching everybody else come and go and being unable to experience the pleasures that set humans apart - food, sleep, love, etc.
I'd say ghosts, when they're not scaring people, help us remember. When we're alone, we reminisce. Those that have been lost to us - whether in the physical passing on, or in the more "spiritual" moving on - start to appear appealing. We begin to want what it is that we cannot have. But the problem with ghosts is that they give off the illusion of reality. If we're thinking of the ghost of a loved one (in whatever sense of the term you'd prefer to think it - I have my own in mind), their image will be comforting. We will be able to see them, hear them, talk to them, but it's nothing substantial. We can't share anything real. They are simply memories of what was once real and pleasing. When we're alone, it's easy to search for our ghosts. They once gave us feeling. They gave us purpose and love. And they're with us still, which can be a blessing, but eventually devolves into a curse.
"I was afraid. Afraid of this emptiness, afraid of this silence, afraid of my ghosts. Now they're here and we can share laughter, talk about old times, it's not so bad."
On the surface at least. And sometimes it's the only thing we can take to get by. Or the only thing we allow to help us get by. The emptiness, silence, loneliness can become too much. We want to reach out again for what was once really there. And when it's gone, we turn to the memory.
"I can't do this. I can't do that. I can't believe I got so fat. At least ghosts are good company. I can't believe it is so cold. I should get up before I get old. And then I'll change my ways before my ways change me."
And the beauty part in embracing our ghosts is that they will always love us. They're good company, no matter how much we allow ourselves to fall away, whether in the physical or personal sense. If we've fallen into a rut and get away from what once defined us, those ghosts will still be there. They are a comfort. But they are not real. That's the kicker. And we get further and further away from once made us worthy to the physical "living" representation of our ghost in the first place.*
*For purposes of clarity, I'm talking exclusively of those that have moved on in terms of friendships/relationships. Losing a friend is tough.
"Now the world is suddenly wonderful. And I think I could live here again. But these ghosts they will not leave me. They're the best company that I've ever had."
They are. Ghosts accept us for everything that we are. When we return to the real world, we will inevitably be faced with the pain that caused us to seek out our ghosts in the first place. It's a catch-22.
And the other thing - having the realization, far too often, that the ghost you have been hanging out with is the best company because its physical twin is as well.
The above lyrics are from "Ghosts Are Good Company" by Bishop Allen.
"I would have died. Just to hear voices. Just to see faces. I was so alone. I went deep. Into my graveyard. I found my ghosts there. They're with me still."
Ghosts are manifestations of things that were once in this world. They're typically ethereal beings that are meant to haunt, but they basically serve as a memory. Of course, they're not always happy memories. In the Harry Potter universe, only the ones who fear death and moving on, the "next great adventure" as Dumbledore puts it, will chose to come back as ghosts. Being a ghost, in the physical sense, is not a good thing. They are destined to live their entire life in anguish, watching everybody else come and go and being unable to experience the pleasures that set humans apart - food, sleep, love, etc.
I'd say ghosts, when they're not scaring people, help us remember. When we're alone, we reminisce. Those that have been lost to us - whether in the physical passing on, or in the more "spiritual" moving on - start to appear appealing. We begin to want what it is that we cannot have. But the problem with ghosts is that they give off the illusion of reality. If we're thinking of the ghost of a loved one (in whatever sense of the term you'd prefer to think it - I have my own in mind), their image will be comforting. We will be able to see them, hear them, talk to them, but it's nothing substantial. We can't share anything real. They are simply memories of what was once real and pleasing. When we're alone, it's easy to search for our ghosts. They once gave us feeling. They gave us purpose and love. And they're with us still, which can be a blessing, but eventually devolves into a curse.
"I was afraid. Afraid of this emptiness, afraid of this silence, afraid of my ghosts. Now they're here and we can share laughter, talk about old times, it's not so bad."
On the surface at least. And sometimes it's the only thing we can take to get by. Or the only thing we allow to help us get by. The emptiness, silence, loneliness can become too much. We want to reach out again for what was once really there. And when it's gone, we turn to the memory.
"I can't do this. I can't do that. I can't believe I got so fat. At least ghosts are good company. I can't believe it is so cold. I should get up before I get old. And then I'll change my ways before my ways change me."
And the beauty part in embracing our ghosts is that they will always love us. They're good company, no matter how much we allow ourselves to fall away, whether in the physical or personal sense. If we've fallen into a rut and get away from what once defined us, those ghosts will still be there. They are a comfort. But they are not real. That's the kicker. And we get further and further away from once made us worthy to the physical "living" representation of our ghost in the first place.*
*For purposes of clarity, I'm talking exclusively of those that have moved on in terms of friendships/relationships. Losing a friend is tough.
"Now the world is suddenly wonderful. And I think I could live here again. But these ghosts they will not leave me. They're the best company that I've ever had."
They are. Ghosts accept us for everything that we are. When we return to the real world, we will inevitably be faced with the pain that caused us to seek out our ghosts in the first place. It's a catch-22.
And the other thing - having the realization, far too often, that the ghost you have been hanging out with is the best company because its physical twin is as well.
The above lyrics are from "Ghosts Are Good Company" by Bishop Allen.
Halloween
It's Halloween! Yet another reminder of bygone nights full of chocolate and caramel and costumes. I remember one Halloween when, after trick-or-treating, I gobbled up all of my good candy as I watched Super Size Me with my buddy. Neither of us were fazed by the irony of overindulgence during the ultimate overindulgence admonishment. It was simply, as I recall, awesome.
Halloween has usually been pretty good to me. I've dressed up as Harry Potter, Quailman, a ninja, a hippie, a kid with a bag over his head (not a very imaginative year), and a girl. That girl costume was the stupidest idea ever. It was in fifth grade and my mom let me bring one of her dresses with flowers on it to school to wear during the Halloween party. I put it on and was in the classroom for like 20 seconds before everybody making fun of me (or me imagining being made fun of) prompted me to take it off. Wow it was embarrassing. What was I thinking? I was comfortable enough in my sexuality for that? At 10? Yeah, ok.
But my favorite part is always, always, always the candy. I didn't like suckers or fruity candy or smarties or any of that nonsense. Chocolate was (and is...ladies) the way to my heart. Hershey's and M&M's and Twix...oh boy. Halloween night was when cavities fell in love.
Now I don't really know how I feel about it. I get to hand out candy now, since I'm an (acting) adult and stuff. But do you know how expensive fun size candy is? Especially the good stuff? And we're supposed to just give it away! This is such a bizarre concept. Spend money on delicious sweets, and then give it away to snot-nosed brats (of which I was once...though I would never fail to say thank you. And only take one when the sign told me to.) And the buyers rarely get to eat the candy! Huh? Society is strange.
Anyway, yay Halloween!
Halloween has usually been pretty good to me. I've dressed up as Harry Potter, Quailman, a ninja, a hippie, a kid with a bag over his head (not a very imaginative year), and a girl. That girl costume was the stupidest idea ever. It was in fifth grade and my mom let me bring one of her dresses with flowers on it to school to wear during the Halloween party. I put it on and was in the classroom for like 20 seconds before everybody making fun of me (or me imagining being made fun of) prompted me to take it off. Wow it was embarrassing. What was I thinking? I was comfortable enough in my sexuality for that? At 10? Yeah, ok.
But my favorite part is always, always, always the candy. I didn't like suckers or fruity candy or smarties or any of that nonsense. Chocolate was (and is...ladies) the way to my heart. Hershey's and M&M's and Twix...oh boy. Halloween night was when cavities fell in love.
Now I don't really know how I feel about it. I get to hand out candy now, since I'm an (acting) adult and stuff. But do you know how expensive fun size candy is? Especially the good stuff? And we're supposed to just give it away! This is such a bizarre concept. Spend money on delicious sweets, and then give it away to snot-nosed brats (of which I was once...though I would never fail to say thank you. And only take one when the sign told me to.) And the buyers rarely get to eat the candy! Huh? Society is strange.
Anyway, yay Halloween!
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Two Things
Now I know that I'm behind here. I whomp. But let it be known that it is 9:45 P.M. and I am just getting ready to leave school for the day. After the sickness that ravaged my body and left me to die, I was so far behind in lesson planning and grading that I needed to stay super late to catch back up. Man I never want to do this again. But I will get some new blogs up and ready after I myself am up and ready. I'm working on it!
Anyhow...
Thing 1: This teaching thing is like a rollercoaster. It's up and down and around and through a loop. Some days I'm high and excited and feel like nothing can go wrong. Other days the students act like little idiots and I fear for the future of the United States. Oftentimes I'm wondering whether I got into the right profession. Thus far I've been giving it an open mind, and I will continue to do so. I mean, we're almost halfway through the semester already and I haven't ripped all my hair out yet, so something must be going right. Things would certainly be a lot easier if it weren't for this nonsense sickness, but we're getting back!
Teaching is tough. I need to remind myself all the time that I can do it. I've been getting down on myself, feeling like a failure. I'm giving the same lectures every day about bringing a pencil and being prepared, and it doesn't matter. Students will seemingly do anything to get out of doing any real work or thinking. It's so disheartening. And I don't know what difference I am making, or I can make. I've gotten some blunt talk. I can succeed if I let myself. Of course it's hard...
Thing 2: I had a thought today. I thought about a void. I imagined that I had the dirt needed to fill that hole. But then I remembered that it had all blown away. Tough.
Anyhow...
Thing 1: This teaching thing is like a rollercoaster. It's up and down and around and through a loop. Some days I'm high and excited and feel like nothing can go wrong. Other days the students act like little idiots and I fear for the future of the United States. Oftentimes I'm wondering whether I got into the right profession. Thus far I've been giving it an open mind, and I will continue to do so. I mean, we're almost halfway through the semester already and I haven't ripped all my hair out yet, so something must be going right. Things would certainly be a lot easier if it weren't for this nonsense sickness, but we're getting back!
Teaching is tough. I need to remind myself all the time that I can do it. I've been getting down on myself, feeling like a failure. I'm giving the same lectures every day about bringing a pencil and being prepared, and it doesn't matter. Students will seemingly do anything to get out of doing any real work or thinking. It's so disheartening. And I don't know what difference I am making, or I can make. I've gotten some blunt talk. I can succeed if I let myself. Of course it's hard...
Thing 2: I had a thought today. I thought about a void. I imagined that I had the dirt needed to fill that hole. But then I remembered that it had all blown away. Tough.
Monday, October 29, 2012
A Giant Disappointment
Watching this World Series was rough. I was sick the entire time, and I kept hoping that the Tigers would win a game for me and I'd be healed, just like in the movies. But instead the team entered Operation Shutdown. I endured inning after inning of ineptitude. The bats were cold and, by extension, so was I. I felt, at least a little, that my fortunes were mirroring the Tigers. They couldn't connect, and neither could I. I didn't know what ailed me, and I couldn't cure it if I did. And neither could the Tigers...
I was so frustrated. There was no scoring. The pitching was splendid, but they couldn't do anything. It was a mess up. It was painful to watch. What was the problem? The six-day layoff? Probably - baseball is a game played everyday. When you take breaks, the momentum gets skewed. The Tigers were hitting in the early rounds of the playoffs - or at least hitting enough. And when it came time for the World Series, the big stage, they couldn't cut it. Shut out twice, and a total of six runs in four games. Just an atrocious performance. And the Tigers didn't even have the big boppers anyway. Their lineup was built around one semi-decent table-setter and the most fearsome 3-4 duo in the game. That's it. But when you've only got 3 guys hitting the ball, the rest of the lineup, designed to pick up slack, becomes an abyss. That's problem number one - too much reliance on Fielder and Cabrera. How to fix that? Hard to say. I mean, they got the Tigers to the Series. But it isn't enough. What will be? There's really no more money to throw around. Delmon is a free agent, as is Peralta. How to fill those gaps? In house? Or on the market? There are a lot of questions for the Tigers to answer in the next few months. One thing is certain - the offense, even with the MVP and Triple Crown winner, even with Prince Fielder, even with a healthy V-Mart, just is not good enough. Only four more months until Spring Training.
I was so frustrated. There was no scoring. The pitching was splendid, but they couldn't do anything. It was a mess up. It was painful to watch. What was the problem? The six-day layoff? Probably - baseball is a game played everyday. When you take breaks, the momentum gets skewed. The Tigers were hitting in the early rounds of the playoffs - or at least hitting enough. And when it came time for the World Series, the big stage, they couldn't cut it. Shut out twice, and a total of six runs in four games. Just an atrocious performance. And the Tigers didn't even have the big boppers anyway. Their lineup was built around one semi-decent table-setter and the most fearsome 3-4 duo in the game. That's it. But when you've only got 3 guys hitting the ball, the rest of the lineup, designed to pick up slack, becomes an abyss. That's problem number one - too much reliance on Fielder and Cabrera. How to fix that? Hard to say. I mean, they got the Tigers to the Series. But it isn't enough. What will be? There's really no more money to throw around. Delmon is a free agent, as is Peralta. How to fill those gaps? In house? Or on the market? There are a lot of questions for the Tigers to answer in the next few months. One thing is certain - the offense, even with the MVP and Triple Crown winner, even with Prince Fielder, even with a healthy V-Mart, just is not good enough. Only four more months until Spring Training.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Shifting Away
Let's get away from the melancholy right now. There are tons of amazing happenings going on as we speak! Sure, my ear may be madly infected, and my head could be pounding, but that doesn't mean that the Tigers aren't playing tonight, right? I, for one, am mighty excited. I mean, we just had another 75 degree day, with the sun shining and the leaves in full form. Vince and I walked down to Ernie's sandwich shop (best sandwich in Detroit Area, 6 years running!) and it was beautiful. Pure bliss. I just felt happy. Isn't it crazy how much weather can affect a mood? Actually, there a lot of things to affect (infect?) moods. Sickness, people, circumstances. But what can we do? Rise up. Embrace those that are there for us regardless. Love those that love us. And then love others. Maybe it's a tall order. Isn't it typical to expect things from the people we interact with? Do we get to know people purely for selfish gain? I'd like to think not. But it might happen...
So what's next? On any of this? I don't really know. Well...I do. I need to consciously be the best. Not the best me, or the best I can be, but the best. Aim for the best. And not slow down!
So what's next? On any of this? I don't really know. Well...I do. I need to consciously be the best. Not the best me, or the best I can be, but the best. Aim for the best. And not slow down!
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
The World Series (Game 1)
I haven't been in this situation in six years. It hasn't felt too long, but I certainly appreciate the uniqueness of it this time. World Series games are not going to come along every year. They need to be savored and enjoyed. Even if my body is rebelling against me. I will watch this game!
P.S. I want to be better soon.................
P.S. I want to be better soon.................
The Good, The Bad...
So I've been all about packing it in and throwing in the towel. But then I realized I was here for awhile. So why not keep it going? But now...ugh I'm so confused. I'm not secure enough to toss it in. Too nice? Too...something else? And now it's happening, and not of my own doing, and I'm struggling. Not too much though, which is fortunate. Though that might be because I'm literally going to die from sickness at any second. Hmm. We'll see how this goes.
Monday, October 22, 2012
The Flu
So I've officially accepted the fact that I was struck with the dreaded flu virus. After all of the times I've scorned the flu vaccine and scoffed at the antibiotics and other preventative measures everyone freaks out about, it turns out that I'm the one who's been made a fool. This has been the most brutal physical pain I've experienced outside of a race since the appendicitis incident. At least I think it is - my head still hurts too much to really dig deep into the archives. But I can totally assure any one who happens to stop by that the flu is a nasty little bugger. I wish I had something witty to say about this monstrosity, but alas I'm FLUsh out. So I think instead I'm going to go listen to this orchestra. The woodwinds sound beautiful. Especially the FLUte section. I could probably go on like this until butterflies are FLUttering again (aka the spring of course) but I think I will take another nap. Stupid flu.
My advice: Don't hang out with the influenza. No matter what it promises you.
My advice: Don't hang out with the influenza. No matter what it promises you.
Untitled V
Why is it so difficult to put aside our earthly, humanistic desires in lieu of the promises delivered by the omniscient?
Saturday, October 20, 2012
The Unexpected
Yeah, so I'm a teacher. It's still hard to wrap my head around. I just finished my 7th week. Seriously? It's so insane! And there's only 33 weeks to go. Ok, I know that seems like a lot, and it most certainly is, but this year is pretty much flying by. I'm nearly done with my Civics class. We're on the block schedule, so every class that's typically a year is done in a semester, and semester classes are done in a marking period. It's so wild. All of this is wild. I thought that I had this stuff figured out. But then something happened on Thursday that messed me up.
There's a quiet girl in my Academic Literacy class named Genesis. She sits in the back corner and doesn't say much in class unless prompted. She doesn't seem to have many friends. I thought that I kind of bonded with her because she wore a Zelda shirt one day and I was really pumped. Sometimes we would talk about Harry Potter after class for a couple minutes. But on Thursday, she walked up to me and said "I pretty much hate everyone else, so I'm going to give this to you." It was a letter that she had written. It talked about how the quiestest ones have the most to say. She mentioned how her voice is going hoarse from silence. Nobody notices, or at least not the ones you want to notice. I was worried when I read this. I wasn't sure if it was one of those cry for help notes. It didn't seem suicidal or anything like that. But I was still worried about her. I talked to her on Friday, and she asked if she could hang out in my class instead of going to Art. I was cool with it, and went to talk to the art teacher to let her know. The art teacher said that Genesis would talk with her about the huge crush she has on me. She told me to be careful and keep the door open. That was strange. I don't know how to handle this stuff! There're a few things I never learned in school, and how to handle 14 year old girls is one of them. I mean, I don't want her to hate life, but I certainly don't want to give her the wrong idea. Ugh...this is confusing.
There's a quiet girl in my Academic Literacy class named Genesis. She sits in the back corner and doesn't say much in class unless prompted. She doesn't seem to have many friends. I thought that I kind of bonded with her because she wore a Zelda shirt one day and I was really pumped. Sometimes we would talk about Harry Potter after class for a couple minutes. But on Thursday, she walked up to me and said "I pretty much hate everyone else, so I'm going to give this to you." It was a letter that she had written. It talked about how the quiestest ones have the most to say. She mentioned how her voice is going hoarse from silence. Nobody notices, or at least not the ones you want to notice. I was worried when I read this. I wasn't sure if it was one of those cry for help notes. It didn't seem suicidal or anything like that. But I was still worried about her. I talked to her on Friday, and she asked if she could hang out in my class instead of going to Art. I was cool with it, and went to talk to the art teacher to let her know. The art teacher said that Genesis would talk with her about the huge crush she has on me. She told me to be careful and keep the door open. That was strange. I don't know how to handle this stuff! There're a few things I never learned in school, and how to handle 14 year old girls is one of them. I mean, I don't want her to hate life, but I certainly don't want to give her the wrong idea. Ugh...this is confusing.
Sickness
So here I am sitting in my sickness. I hate being sick. It's terrible. Headaches, neck aches, goose pimples, sweat storms, congestion, sore throats, and phlegm. This is agony. I hate it. I don't ever remember being this sick. Maybe I've got one of those flus that the kids always talk about. I mean, I hate getting shots, so you better believe I passed up my flu shot this year. I have such faith in my immune system that I never thought I'd get sick like this. And here I am. I'm on the struggle bus. All I want to do is be healthy. It's so darn frustrating. I had to have my first substitute teacher come in on Tuesday. It was only for the half day, but it was still rough. I don't want to have another sub again. Do you know how brutal it is to prepare materials for a guest teacher? Ugh...I don't want to have to go through that again. So here's the plan...let's just get better. It's almost time for another week of school. I want to be on my A game. Or at least be prepared. C'mon! Get better!
Are You Happy Now?
Do you remember Michelle Branch? She was an awesome pop superstar who sang of angsty love. Before she turned country, I had memorized the three songs that had ever been played on the radio. For some reason, I was down with her music. And now here I am thinking about it again. Am I happy now? Michelle had asked me that very question everyday on the FM stations. I thought I knew the answers. And now here I am, unsure. Everytime that I think I'm happy, I leave my comfort zone and start thinking. We all know the dangers of overthinking, and yet I'm still stuck in its throes. Am I happy now? I'm not entirely sure anymore. When I've got my happiness, everything is good. Great even. Or is it? Is it a veneer? Am I stuck? Do I stay just because I've got nothing else? Do I have nothing else? I don't even know. And then, when I don't have my happiness, when I'm bombarded by all those sour words and tough times. I'm being called for help, and then I'm not even listened to. I don't think I'm happy. But I can't quit it. I don't know how.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Fractured
I'm so confused. I'm so confusing. Things, by extension, become more confusing. I've been eating a lot of sweets. They taste good. What is that taste? Is it real? How do we manufacture it? I mean, there's smoke flavor. How do we make that? And better yet, why does it sound lovely? As lovely as a red, red rose? I'm partial to yellow roses. They seem much rarer. But they also signify mere friendship. I want something a little deeper. But who cares about tradition? I can create my own meanings. But it doesn't always work like that. It never works like that. The decisions of others are based on those made by their peers before them. And so are mine. What are my actions? What are my choices? What is life? George Harrison came up with that last question. It's not mine. I think I know what life is. A collection of anecdotes. If it were put into narrative form, that is. It'd be a lot easier I think if it were a narrative. I like reading. Except when I'm reading stream of consciousness. Which is what this is. I feel like Virginia Woolf. And I hate Virginia Woolf. Though I sure like her writing style. But I can't be both, right? But I am. Just like in relationships. So how can I be so against loving both sides societally? Wow, that's an interesting thought. But things don't go like that. Just because we find one matching example, I can find a bunch more that refute it. And then you can find even more that refute my refutions. If that's even a word. I'm not going to look it up. I'm too manly for that. And speaking of manly, I wish I were Ernest Hemingway. Except for the liking men part. But he was just so raw. And concise. He took no nonsense from anyone. I don't want nonsense. But then I create it. Brutal. I remember when I tried to emulate Hemingway once. I did a little ditty channeling the masculinity that Hemingway exudes. It was about hunting of course. I'm not sure how well I did capturing the man. But it sure was fun to write. He made life seem simple. Perhaps it was for him. It's a mindset. Perspective. And when that perspective gets screwed up, just punch it in the face and chew some tobacco. Truer words have never been spoken. This is how I feel. Different thoughts running all over the place. Evocative.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
A Kind Word, A New Perspective
I was talking to one of my roommates a few minutes ago about love and the next step. Sometimes I vacillate about my intended journey. I want one thing one minute and something completely different the next. Those feelings are returned, but only at odd intervals, leaving me further confused and addled about the direction of my mind. A lot of times we think that our lives should be planned out. Everything that we should do needs to be measured carefully, lest we regret it later in life. We don't want to be stuck in a career we hate or living in a place we despise or, heaven forbid, being with someone that may be wrong for us. So we wait and search and seek and put off. We need to be certain because, we think, there is only one shot, one chance for a perfect life. We don't want to settle.
But it's equally difficult to be thinking about "what if." And that's sort of what my buddy was talking about today. When you find someone that you really could be with, who makes you happy and you can connect with on a deeper level, you know you're onto something good. Build on it. Real love is all about that connection, that complete giving up of self, and uncertainty. That last part really stuck with me. It's uncertainty. We're never going to be completely sure - there're going to be second guesses. But it's going to be from both parties. If you can find someone to be uncertain with, then it has a chance. That's love.
We don't know what it's going to bring. Ever. We don't know anything about the future. We can plan, but how often do our ideas come to fruition? There's going to be that sense of chance, that feeling of uncertainty. But sharing that with someone else...love.
I wasn't expecting to have a talk like that with my roommate, but it was very welcome and most appreciated. Thanks big guy.
But it's equally difficult to be thinking about "what if." And that's sort of what my buddy was talking about today. When you find someone that you really could be with, who makes you happy and you can connect with on a deeper level, you know you're onto something good. Build on it. Real love is all about that connection, that complete giving up of self, and uncertainty. That last part really stuck with me. It's uncertainty. We're never going to be completely sure - there're going to be second guesses. But it's going to be from both parties. If you can find someone to be uncertain with, then it has a chance. That's love.
We don't know what it's going to bring. Ever. We don't know anything about the future. We can plan, but how often do our ideas come to fruition? There's going to be that sense of chance, that feeling of uncertainty. But sharing that with someone else...love.
I wasn't expecting to have a talk like that with my roommate, but it was very welcome and most appreciated. Thanks big guy.
Warszawa
You know, it's funny sometimes how songs can make one think. Even those lyricless journeys can totally envelope us until we are surrounded by the sonic waves and both consumed in thought and blissfully mindless.
Leave this up to your own interpretation...
Leave this up to your own interpretation...
Monday, October 15, 2012
Cliches
I'm sorry that I'm falling behind a little bit here. I'm working on catching up, but I have so much on my plate right now. If I only could figure out how to effectively create a routine...
Anyhow, I was thinking about cliches. Actually I'm still thinking about them, which is why I decided to write a little ditty before I get back to the 24 hour job that teaching has developed into. And that's even before the debate club gets off the ground. Oh boy what did I sign up for here?
Cliches are such a ridiculous thing. A bunch of sayings thrown together that are supposed to encapsulate a life lesson or something. When life hands you lemons, for example, you're supposed to make lemonade. Sure, but things aren't always that simple. I mean, if life hands you lemons and nothing else, you would be making some lemon juice. What if life neglected to throw in the sugar and water? It's such a silly saying that fails to confront the myriad possibilities that exist beyond the one in question.
Today I uttered the phrase, "Things will work out how they work out." Really? I used the oldest cliche in the book (which itself is the biggest cliche) in a failed attempt to describe some of the more confusing circumstances in my life. It didn't really say anything. I didn't show any knowledge gained or evidence of thought. It's just one of those things we say to fill space. What does it mean? It doesn't tell the story of my life. It doesn't tell the story of anyone's life. We are used to being in control. We don't sit back and let things take care of themselves; rather, we've been taught to get after it and make something. Sure it's another cliche, but at least it has some feeling behind it. We need to take control of our own lives. Letting those cliches run rampant in the (sub)conscious parts of our minds is most certainly counterproductive, rendering us as something resembling clones. We lose our individuality and embrace that which is easy and doesn't require much work.
But guess what...anything worth having requires work. A cliche if I ever saw one, but one that I can stand behind.
Anyhow, I was thinking about cliches. Actually I'm still thinking about them, which is why I decided to write a little ditty before I get back to the 24 hour job that teaching has developed into. And that's even before the debate club gets off the ground. Oh boy what did I sign up for here?
Cliches are such a ridiculous thing. A bunch of sayings thrown together that are supposed to encapsulate a life lesson or something. When life hands you lemons, for example, you're supposed to make lemonade. Sure, but things aren't always that simple. I mean, if life hands you lemons and nothing else, you would be making some lemon juice. What if life neglected to throw in the sugar and water? It's such a silly saying that fails to confront the myriad possibilities that exist beyond the one in question.
Today I uttered the phrase, "Things will work out how they work out." Really? I used the oldest cliche in the book (which itself is the biggest cliche) in a failed attempt to describe some of the more confusing circumstances in my life. It didn't really say anything. I didn't show any knowledge gained or evidence of thought. It's just one of those things we say to fill space. What does it mean? It doesn't tell the story of my life. It doesn't tell the story of anyone's life. We are used to being in control. We don't sit back and let things take care of themselves; rather, we've been taught to get after it and make something. Sure it's another cliche, but at least it has some feeling behind it. We need to take control of our own lives. Letting those cliches run rampant in the (sub)conscious parts of our minds is most certainly counterproductive, rendering us as something resembling clones. We lose our individuality and embrace that which is easy and doesn't require much work.
But guess what...anything worth having requires work. A cliche if I ever saw one, but one that I can stand behind.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
This Is The End (If You Want It)
"I can't keep a straight face and say this is not the end.
Not if you want it, it's upon us and I wanna say it's sinking in..."
- Relient K
Typically when I think about the lyrics to that song, I imagine someone I love saying those words to me. I've never been the guy to end things. I've always been about fighting and trying to persevere through adversity and tough times. But maybe the song is meant to be the other way around. Perhaps this is me talking. Maybe it really is upon us.
I've been talking in this space about sucking out the poison and returning to what truly made me the man I wanted to be. But what if I blatantly ignored some of the things that had brought me down? What if I tried to return to my former glory in spite of those things? Maybe I was willing to part with some things but not everything? Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. And I've been the most blissful, the happiest, the giddiest man in the history of time. Of that I can say for sure. But to what end? And by what means?
As I was saying, maybe I'm the singer. I'm directing the song toward a certain person or situation. I don't know what's going to become of it. But it's a return to control. If things are meant to work out, then work out they will (and cliches be damned). I cannot sell myself short or create excuses or anything else. All I can do is rise up from the pit of the person I became and shine. I can be strong and carry on.
I want to say it's sinking in. It feels like it has been for awhile now, though "awhile" can be a relative term. I don't want to give up on this. I fought and fought and will continue to fight, but in a much more indirect way. But I also can't sell myself short. I can rise up.
I've never handled everything perfectly. Especially in the eyes of some. But for some reason, I feel a sense of calm that has heretofore been nonexistant. It could change again tomorrow, but, for right now, it's right. I'm not giving up...but it'll be different...and I can't forget about myself. Be the person I want to be...
Not if you want it, it's upon us and I wanna say it's sinking in..."
- Relient K
Typically when I think about the lyrics to that song, I imagine someone I love saying those words to me. I've never been the guy to end things. I've always been about fighting and trying to persevere through adversity and tough times. But maybe the song is meant to be the other way around. Perhaps this is me talking. Maybe it really is upon us.
I've been talking in this space about sucking out the poison and returning to what truly made me the man I wanted to be. But what if I blatantly ignored some of the things that had brought me down? What if I tried to return to my former glory in spite of those things? Maybe I was willing to part with some things but not everything? Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. And I've been the most blissful, the happiest, the giddiest man in the history of time. Of that I can say for sure. But to what end? And by what means?
As I was saying, maybe I'm the singer. I'm directing the song toward a certain person or situation. I don't know what's going to become of it. But it's a return to control. If things are meant to work out, then work out they will (and cliches be damned). I cannot sell myself short or create excuses or anything else. All I can do is rise up from the pit of the person I became and shine. I can be strong and carry on.
I want to say it's sinking in. It feels like it has been for awhile now, though "awhile" can be a relative term. I don't want to give up on this. I fought and fought and will continue to fight, but in a much more indirect way. But I also can't sell myself short. I can rise up.
I've never handled everything perfectly. Especially in the eyes of some. But for some reason, I feel a sense of calm that has heretofore been nonexistant. It could change again tomorrow, but, for right now, it's right. I'm not giving up...but it'll be different...and I can't forget about myself. Be the person I want to be...
Friday, October 12, 2012
Untitled IV
More and more the thing that I used to dread seems like the right thing to do. That which I thought would completely overwhelm and devastate me may very well be what sets me free. What hitherto I would have deemed the end of me could be the beginning. The more that I go on, the more I think that I could be selling myself short. And I'm not going to. I need to be strong. It's looking both easier and better. I know that I can make it onward and upward. I'm almost there.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
And The Beat Goes On...
Things, it seems, have started to settle down. I am beginning to see through the dust. Classes are becoming easier to prepare for and seem to be going better. I am feeling pretty in control in the classroom and don't exactly hate going into work everyday (though I don't necessarily love it either). And as for everything else...
I was pretty messed up there. For good reason. I had let myself get away from myself. But I know that this train can get back on track. It takes confidence, strength, and the ability to see the difference between what I want and what I need. I'm at that point right now. I'm happy. But is it short-term? What is the long-term plan? What comes next? Disillusionment has set in. Actually, it's only disillusionment if that's the way that I choose to look at it. If I put my other pair of glasses on and look at it through a different lens, it becomes a sort of liberation. So which is it? Break away from the comfort and joy, or become accepting of whatever else may be there? It doesn't make sense I'm sure. We're pretty much talking all rhetorical here. Or are we?
I was pretty messed up there. For good reason. I had let myself get away from myself. But I know that this train can get back on track. It takes confidence, strength, and the ability to see the difference between what I want and what I need. I'm at that point right now. I'm happy. But is it short-term? What is the long-term plan? What comes next? Disillusionment has set in. Actually, it's only disillusionment if that's the way that I choose to look at it. If I put my other pair of glasses on and look at it through a different lens, it becomes a sort of liberation. So which is it? Break away from the comfort and joy, or become accepting of whatever else may be there? It doesn't make sense I'm sure. We're pretty much talking all rhetorical here. Or are we?
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Finding Nemo
I was thinking about one of the best Pixar movies ever made the other day. Remember when Dory was talking about what to do when life gets you down? "Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming..." Isn't that the best advice we can get? When things look bleak, we need to keep on going. When circumstances spiral out of our control, we have to keep on. It is for our own good, and for the good of those around us as well. We can flail and yell and scream and work to regain control, but to no avail. All we can do, the only thing that is guaranteed us, is seek out the next moment. And the best way to approach that moment? "Just keep swimming..."
Monday, October 8, 2012
Day To Day
I feel like all I do is talk about school to people. I mean, of course I talk about deeper stuff sometimes, but my day to day chitchat is all about school. The kids I interacted with, the lessons I taught, the strategies I borrowed from my colleagues, and even the brats who made me question my profession. That's what happens when we get older, isn't it? We transition from talking about our friends and our classes and our hopes and dreams and end up talking about our jobs. Our jobs, for many, become us. We are identified by what we do. And because we spend so much time doing them, they become a deeper part of us. So far, I'm not a big fan of this change.
I feel like a broken record talking about my normal routine. To outsiders, everyday is probably the same. To those that live it, there are so many nuances that make up a typical workday but are hard to share with others. Because of this, we eventually end up with a sort of dual life - those at work who witness a certain side of us, and those in the personal world, who have the pleasure of (most of the time) seeing a completely different side. It's certainly possible to bring those two worlds together, but it definitely does not happen all the time.
And until it does, I'm sort of stuck. Rehashing my day with those that may not fully understand or care makes me feel inadequate. Sharing my personal side with fellow workers seems inappropriate. It's really hard to find that middle ground. But in the mean time, it's time to stay positive. Who knows what it'll accomplish directly, but it just seems like a good idea. As it always does...
I feel like a broken record talking about my normal routine. To outsiders, everyday is probably the same. To those that live it, there are so many nuances that make up a typical workday but are hard to share with others. Because of this, we eventually end up with a sort of dual life - those at work who witness a certain side of us, and those in the personal world, who have the pleasure of (most of the time) seeing a completely different side. It's certainly possible to bring those two worlds together, but it definitely does not happen all the time.
And until it does, I'm sort of stuck. Rehashing my day with those that may not fully understand or care makes me feel inadequate. Sharing my personal side with fellow workers seems inappropriate. It's really hard to find that middle ground. But in the mean time, it's time to stay positive. Who knows what it'll accomplish directly, but it just seems like a good idea. As it always does...
No More Football
This is the year. I'm finally doing it. I am not watching football. I'm sick and tired of it. It's not just the Lions' perennial ineptitude. It's not the overbearing sense of commercialism or skyrocketing ticket prices or any of that. I'm just tired of the product. I've been disillusioned by playoffs and that stupid "any given Sunday" gobbledygook. No longer does the best team win, but the team who decided to get hot at the right time. And most of all I'm turned off by the games themselves.
It used to be, not too long ago, that what happened on the field stayed on the field. By that, I mean that if a player scored a touchdown, it was a touchdown. If he caught a pass or sacked the quarterback, it was considered a catch or a sack. We knew when to cheer and when to jeer. It was, once upon a time, so simple. But then came instant replay. "We have the technology, so why not use it?!" they said, thinking they were improving the sport. Little did they know that they were turning it into a shell of itself. Now when I watch a game, I don't know what to do. Every play is dissected by the talking heads and shown at six different angles. We're all left guessing as to the "real" result of the play, as if having the ability to catch a sideline pass with one toe on the out of bounds line shows any less skill than being a quarter of an inch in bounds. But we have the technology, so now we can see it! But at what cost? Games are being stretched out to interminable lengths and are being decided by judgement calls based on what the cameras pick up. Everybody has turned into a referee, analyzing every situation and making decisions. It seems like the games have become a surgical science. The human element has been completely stripped away, to be replaced by computers that know everything. I'm to the point of thinking that next the players are going to no longer be on the field. Rather, we'll just simulate everything and come up with our answers. I mean, since players can no longer hit each other for fear of another judgement penalty or stifling fine, what else is there? It's just a bunch of standing around and flinging the ball around the field, occassionally interrupeted by another referee whistle.
I don't know when I became so bitter. Maybe it was the referee fiasco. Maybe it was when every single play became reviewable, and the number of challenge flags didn't matter anymore because all replays started coming from the booth. Perhaps it was the day of the Calvin Johnson non-catch, when everything I thought I knew about football was tossed out. It could have been the day that I realized that I couldn't cheer a play anymore because I never knew if it was coming back. Nothing in football is final. I hate it. It's such a tease. I'm out this year. The games are too slow, with no rhyme or reason for certain rules or other penalties. It's just not exciting anymore. I'm out.
It used to be, not too long ago, that what happened on the field stayed on the field. By that, I mean that if a player scored a touchdown, it was a touchdown. If he caught a pass or sacked the quarterback, it was considered a catch or a sack. We knew when to cheer and when to jeer. It was, once upon a time, so simple. But then came instant replay. "We have the technology, so why not use it?!" they said, thinking they were improving the sport. Little did they know that they were turning it into a shell of itself. Now when I watch a game, I don't know what to do. Every play is dissected by the talking heads and shown at six different angles. We're all left guessing as to the "real" result of the play, as if having the ability to catch a sideline pass with one toe on the out of bounds line shows any less skill than being a quarter of an inch in bounds. But we have the technology, so now we can see it! But at what cost? Games are being stretched out to interminable lengths and are being decided by judgement calls based on what the cameras pick up. Everybody has turned into a referee, analyzing every situation and making decisions. It seems like the games have become a surgical science. The human element has been completely stripped away, to be replaced by computers that know everything. I'm to the point of thinking that next the players are going to no longer be on the field. Rather, we'll just simulate everything and come up with our answers. I mean, since players can no longer hit each other for fear of another judgement penalty or stifling fine, what else is there? It's just a bunch of standing around and flinging the ball around the field, occassionally interrupeted by another referee whistle.
I don't know when I became so bitter. Maybe it was the referee fiasco. Maybe it was when every single play became reviewable, and the number of challenge flags didn't matter anymore because all replays started coming from the booth. Perhaps it was the day of the Calvin Johnson non-catch, when everything I thought I knew about football was tossed out. It could have been the day that I realized that I couldn't cheer a play anymore because I never knew if it was coming back. Nothing in football is final. I hate it. It's such a tease. I'm out this year. The games are too slow, with no rhyme or reason for certain rules or other penalties. It's just not exciting anymore. I'm out.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
The Future (Of Blogs)
There're so many things I want to write about, and then there's those things I need to write about. I am usually on a routine during the week. But when it comes time for weekend, I'm all over the place. It's just so exciting to have a few days off and not have to think about what to teach or how to handle discipline issues or dread getting up so early in the morning. I can just hang out and be free. Unfortunately those weekends end. I need to write lesson plans and mentally prepare for the grind of yet another week of mind molding.
But I wanted to share some stories. I'm not going to throw away this blog, not after 58 entries. Here's a few things to be expecting in the next few days: The Failure of the NFL, scapegoating, Tigers playoff updates, free will, debates/fallacies, and the inevitable personal updates. Get ready...
But I wanted to share some stories. I'm not going to throw away this blog, not after 58 entries. Here's a few things to be expecting in the next few days: The Failure of the NFL, scapegoating, Tigers playoff updates, free will, debates/fallacies, and the inevitable personal updates. Get ready...
The Tigers!
I haven't had much time this past weekend to get the blogs up, but, as always, that doesn't mean that the thought juices haven't been flowing.
The Tigers are in the playoffs! This is such incredible news! The entire year they played like a bunch of sad sacks, toiling along behind the overrated White Sox and looking like a bloated and fiscally irresponsible "professional" squad hellbent on letting down their fans once more. But boy do I look like the loser now. For the second year in a row, the Tigers won the AL Central. They were able to open the playoffs against the surprise AL West representative Oakland Athletics. I couldn't have dreamt of a better matchup - the team with the most whiffs in the league against Verlander, Scherzer, and the rest of the strikeout crew. It was going to be an incredible series...
I was at the game last night. I should clarify that - I was present in the vicinity of the stadium. Comerica Park is one of the gems of baseball and has a fence in the outfield where any passerby can peer into the stadium and see the game in stunning clarity. I stood on the fence and witnessed Verlander dealing K after K. I got to revel in the amazing atmosphere that only playoff baseball can bring. I got my picture taken so many times because I was apparently one of those true diehard fans who will stand outside the stadium just to share in the glory (or so that's what I like to think...)
And today, with Game 2 on MLB Network, I went to a sports bar and watched it with hundreds of other diehards without cable. It was so awesome to see an entire restaurant explode in excitement. It made me realize what was so exciting about sports - it's an opportunity to come together and show pride with others. It's a bizarre act of patriotism, where everyone, for a few hours, is bonded together and we don't have to worry about all those other things that can bog us down. What a great thing - the cheers and shouts of jubilation and smiles - and it's even better when our team wins.
A few years ago, I had actual tickets to a Tigers playoff game. I thought it was in the bag - the Tigers had a 3 game lead with 4 left to play. But they blew it. My playoff ticket was for naught. I always wondered what I missed out on. I knew that the atmosphere at a playoff game was something never to be missed, and there it went slipping through my fingers. I'm not going to miss this chance though!
The Tigers are in the playoffs! This is such incredible news! The entire year they played like a bunch of sad sacks, toiling along behind the overrated White Sox and looking like a bloated and fiscally irresponsible "professional" squad hellbent on letting down their fans once more. But boy do I look like the loser now. For the second year in a row, the Tigers won the AL Central. They were able to open the playoffs against the surprise AL West representative Oakland Athletics. I couldn't have dreamt of a better matchup - the team with the most whiffs in the league against Verlander, Scherzer, and the rest of the strikeout crew. It was going to be an incredible series...
I was at the game last night. I should clarify that - I was present in the vicinity of the stadium. Comerica Park is one of the gems of baseball and has a fence in the outfield where any passerby can peer into the stadium and see the game in stunning clarity. I stood on the fence and witnessed Verlander dealing K after K. I got to revel in the amazing atmosphere that only playoff baseball can bring. I got my picture taken so many times because I was apparently one of those true diehard fans who will stand outside the stadium just to share in the glory (or so that's what I like to think...)
And today, with Game 2 on MLB Network, I went to a sports bar and watched it with hundreds of other diehards without cable. It was so awesome to see an entire restaurant explode in excitement. It made me realize what was so exciting about sports - it's an opportunity to come together and show pride with others. It's a bizarre act of patriotism, where everyone, for a few hours, is bonded together and we don't have to worry about all those other things that can bog us down. What a great thing - the cheers and shouts of jubilation and smiles - and it's even better when our team wins.
A few years ago, I had actual tickets to a Tigers playoff game. I thought it was in the bag - the Tigers had a 3 game lead with 4 left to play. But they blew it. My playoff ticket was for naught. I always wondered what I missed out on. I knew that the atmosphere at a playoff game was something never to be missed, and there it went slipping through my fingers. I'm not going to miss this chance though!
Thursday, October 4, 2012
The Next Step
I was thinking about the movie Mean Girls the other day. Actually, it's recently come up quite often in my mind. I thought about it last week, when we had an assembly at my school that kicked off the beginning of homecoming week. It was a mad house. Kids were running all over the place trying to avoid being stuffed in trash bins (it was Freshman Friday), paper and hallway decorations were strewn all about, and students were rambunctious - to a fault. I thought about that scene when all the girls turn into wild animals and start attacking each other. It was a frightening concept, but it luckily never got that intense. Still, the film was on my mind...
And it still is. The main character, Cady, came to a new school and didn't really fit in. She had been homeschooled and did not know how to function in a high school environment. She had a certain set of values that seemed antiquated in modern-day society. Eventually, her values and ideas were thrown asunder as she fell under the allure of popularity and acceptance. But it didn't last, as she let things get too far and forgot her true friends and what she had originally stood for. At the end of the movie, she talks about how when you get bit by a snake, you're supposed to suck the poison out. And that's what she decided to do - suck all of the poison out of her life.
And now it's my turn. It's not an easy task. But it's the only thing that will save me.
"Let it all out
Rip it out
Remove it
And don't be alarmed when the wound begins to bleed."
Relient K, "Let It All Out"
And it still is. The main character, Cady, came to a new school and didn't really fit in. She had been homeschooled and did not know how to function in a high school environment. She had a certain set of values that seemed antiquated in modern-day society. Eventually, her values and ideas were thrown asunder as she fell under the allure of popularity and acceptance. But it didn't last, as she let things get too far and forgot her true friends and what she had originally stood for. At the end of the movie, she talks about how when you get bit by a snake, you're supposed to suck the poison out. And that's what she decided to do - suck all of the poison out of her life.
And now it's my turn. It's not an easy task. But it's the only thing that will save me.
"Let it all out
Rip it out
Remove it
And don't be alarmed when the wound begins to bleed."
Relient K, "Let It All Out"
Untitled III
"I've been convincing myself that I'm worthwhile,
Because I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be."
Relient K
Because I'm worth what I'll convince myself to be."
Relient K
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
The First 24 Hours
I have been all over the place. I am living all seven stages of grief in the span of an hour, and then reliving them. Everytime I think about what I had become, what I had compromised to fit into the little boxes that I had created for myself and decorated in such an attractive way...it's all for naught.
According to the words of Ecclesiastes 1:2, "Everything is meaningless." Right now, everything is meaningless. I have nothing left. I put my entire soul into another, I gave all, and I failed. There's no "we" about it - I alone was the failure. I have become meaningless, and, it would seem, so has life. Is there anything left to live for? That which I have focused myself on, that which has consumed me, that which has given me a sense of purpose, has made me feel needed and important and a host of other things - gone. Meaningless. But that's what happens when we live the Ecclesiastes life, right? If we're going to be like Solomon, living a life that spits in the face of God, even though we know that He's there...what other end could we come to?
This is what I did. I knew once. And then, after a series of decisions, I no longer knew. I didn't trust, I didn't have faith, and I fell away. I lived like Solomon, sans the infinite wisdom. And that's it right there, isn't it? Solomon was literally the wisest man who ever lived. And even he questioned the glories of God. What would happen, he wondered, if he were to live a life of vanity? His conclusion - life no longer has meaning. To the untrained eye it may seem wonderful and pleasureable, but there is nothing there. Those things pass, but the important things, real unconditional love, prevails.
I know that I can't quit though. I've been aware that I became somebody else for awhile now. Not many others have. They've accepted the changes, embraced them even. But not so for the people closest to me. And yet, I continued burying my former self. I let things go, became a caricature of everything I once stood for. August was the breaking point, the moment when I realized that I had gone too far. Even though I had the realization, even though I've been actively trying to put my life back on track in some way, even though I knew I was in the wrong, I still needed to face consequences. I needed the accountability. And I have it.
I've been inspired, and I'm not sure if my inspiration knows how much they've helped, how much they've given me, how much they've driven me. If I can't do it now...
I know it's true that instant change is seldom lasting change. It's been slow going for me. I wish it could happen at the snap of a finger and I could instantly return to that which I knew. It won't. It can't. It shouldn't. I've understood the pain which results from ill decision-making, from compromises, from a lack of faith. But I'm getting there. I need that lasting change. Small changes beget larger changes.
"I met the devil and I stared her in the eyes.
Her hair had scales like silver serpents,
I, a statue, stood there mesmerized.
I took the fire escape and made it out alive.
Yeah I still burn from time to time but I've a healing hand against my side
Blisters on my feet I crawl back home.
Frozen from the sleet, burned sand and stones.
Nourished back to life by life alone.
With one shake of the mane regain the throne."
-Relient K, "This Is The End (If You Want It)"
According to the words of Ecclesiastes 1:2, "Everything is meaningless." Right now, everything is meaningless. I have nothing left. I put my entire soul into another, I gave all, and I failed. There's no "we" about it - I alone was the failure. I have become meaningless, and, it would seem, so has life. Is there anything left to live for? That which I have focused myself on, that which has consumed me, that which has given me a sense of purpose, has made me feel needed and important and a host of other things - gone. Meaningless. But that's what happens when we live the Ecclesiastes life, right? If we're going to be like Solomon, living a life that spits in the face of God, even though we know that He's there...what other end could we come to?
This is what I did. I knew once. And then, after a series of decisions, I no longer knew. I didn't trust, I didn't have faith, and I fell away. I lived like Solomon, sans the infinite wisdom. And that's it right there, isn't it? Solomon was literally the wisest man who ever lived. And even he questioned the glories of God. What would happen, he wondered, if he were to live a life of vanity? His conclusion - life no longer has meaning. To the untrained eye it may seem wonderful and pleasureable, but there is nothing there. Those things pass, but the important things, real unconditional love, prevails.
I know that I can't quit though. I've been aware that I became somebody else for awhile now. Not many others have. They've accepted the changes, embraced them even. But not so for the people closest to me. And yet, I continued burying my former self. I let things go, became a caricature of everything I once stood for. August was the breaking point, the moment when I realized that I had gone too far. Even though I had the realization, even though I've been actively trying to put my life back on track in some way, even though I knew I was in the wrong, I still needed to face consequences. I needed the accountability. And I have it.
I've been inspired, and I'm not sure if my inspiration knows how much they've helped, how much they've given me, how much they've driven me. If I can't do it now...
I know it's true that instant change is seldom lasting change. It's been slow going for me. I wish it could happen at the snap of a finger and I could instantly return to that which I knew. It won't. It can't. It shouldn't. I've understood the pain which results from ill decision-making, from compromises, from a lack of faith. But I'm getting there. I need that lasting change. Small changes beget larger changes.
"I met the devil and I stared her in the eyes.
Her hair had scales like silver serpents,
I, a statue, stood there mesmerized.
I took the fire escape and made it out alive.
Yeah I still burn from time to time but I've a healing hand against my side
Blisters on my feet I crawl back home.
Frozen from the sleet, burned sand and stones.
Nourished back to life by life alone.
With one shake of the mane regain the throne."
-Relient K, "This Is The End (If You Want It)"
Monday, October 1, 2012
Regret And Recovery: Part 1 (Of Many)
Not many people read this anymore. I think this is lucky for me. And to those of you who happen to stumble across this page, I'd appreciate the accountability.
One week ago I lived one of the greatest days of my life*. I bought my ticket to Turkey, yes, but I also had love. For the first time in a long time I had achieved happiness, true and pure, in its rawest form. Besides the primal base emotion, I had reforged an incredible connection, one that I had been pursuing for months. Years, actually. This love was the most intense sensation I had ever felt. I wasn't me alone. I had been searching and fighting and struggling to find it again, and here it was. I even had the words returned. Miniature cheeleaders were jumping and clapping on my left ventricle. My brain was sending signals of jubilation, glee, exuberance, and any other adjective denoting simple joy. I had gone down to the depths, had to go absolutely crazy, had to debase everything that once defined manhood, become, in some words, "pathetic," and here I was, ready to reclaim what I had lost. No, not "reclaim," but rather "reignite" the flame which had seemingly burned out.
Oh how fickle I am, a man of such little faith. Or perhaps a child, as I have not fully achieved manhood, as much as I try to convince myself that I have. I had it once. I devolved. 16 months ago, I was a man. I had values, I had faith, I had that something that set me apart, that made me the apple of a particular set of blue eyes. I had it all, didn't I? And it slipped through my fingers. A little slip here, and a small stumble there. A loss of faith in the everlasting, and new found love for love. How crazy is it, then, that which we ascribe ourselves will continually find fault in us? Or, perhaps, why do we create loopholes in which to slide peons such as ourselves right on through?
So what is this? A lamentation for love's slumbers lost? Yes, to an extent, but it's a sign of something much deeper. Love didn't disappear because it's flighty. It left because I left. I ceased to be Ryan Ayala, circa 5/2011, and morphed into...an unrecognizable aglomeration of everything I once abhorred. I slowly embraced that which set me apart. In an attempt to fit in, I became excluded. There is a hierarchy of desires in my life. To mortgage the tip of the pyramid in favor of the inconsequential middle portion? While my base was unstable to begin with? I had lost my way. I have lost my way.
When does the healing begin? How do I return to the core of me? It's too late for a lot of things. It's too late for the most important thing I've ever had, that which has brought me unparalleled happiness and a sense of purpose. But it's not yet too late to abandon the rottenness that has sprung up inside. I've descended far too many flights of stairs, and I may have actually reached rock bottom. But it's only there, I've heard it said, that we can truly rise up again to fight once more.
That is where I am. In the pit. Surrounded by nothing. I did wrong, so very wrong, to myself and to those whose opinions mattered the most, or even at all. And now I must face those consequences. I don't want to. I hate them. I wish I had never sunk this low in the first place. But of course any beaten man will say that. We will say anything to rid ourselves of this despair. But only I can do something about it. Alone, but not truly. Perhaps there is another, an omniscient presence. I don't know. I once did. And that was what made me happy. That's when my life was under control, where I embraced the tenets of right living and became that which was appealing to the only one who matters.
I don't want to return to my former splendor (if you will) because of the wishes (or as a result of the indifference) of another. I'd be remiss if I didn't say that it certainly plays a role, but this is for me. Seek my inner self for that happiness, that truth and rightness. Better the self, and who knows what could happen.
I have seen perfection. Twice. I've lost it both times. But there's nowhere else to go but back up.
*It was actually the best week I've had...Friday to Thursday. I was happy.
One week ago I lived one of the greatest days of my life*. I bought my ticket to Turkey, yes, but I also had love. For the first time in a long time I had achieved happiness, true and pure, in its rawest form. Besides the primal base emotion, I had reforged an incredible connection, one that I had been pursuing for months. Years, actually. This love was the most intense sensation I had ever felt. I wasn't me alone. I had been searching and fighting and struggling to find it again, and here it was. I even had the words returned. Miniature cheeleaders were jumping and clapping on my left ventricle. My brain was sending signals of jubilation, glee, exuberance, and any other adjective denoting simple joy. I had gone down to the depths, had to go absolutely crazy, had to debase everything that once defined manhood, become, in some words, "pathetic," and here I was, ready to reclaim what I had lost. No, not "reclaim," but rather "reignite" the flame which had seemingly burned out.
Oh how fickle I am, a man of such little faith. Or perhaps a child, as I have not fully achieved manhood, as much as I try to convince myself that I have. I had it once. I devolved. 16 months ago, I was a man. I had values, I had faith, I had that something that set me apart, that made me the apple of a particular set of blue eyes. I had it all, didn't I? And it slipped through my fingers. A little slip here, and a small stumble there. A loss of faith in the everlasting, and new found love for love. How crazy is it, then, that which we ascribe ourselves will continually find fault in us? Or, perhaps, why do we create loopholes in which to slide peons such as ourselves right on through?
So what is this? A lamentation for love's slumbers lost? Yes, to an extent, but it's a sign of something much deeper. Love didn't disappear because it's flighty. It left because I left. I ceased to be Ryan Ayala, circa 5/2011, and morphed into...an unrecognizable aglomeration of everything I once abhorred. I slowly embraced that which set me apart. In an attempt to fit in, I became excluded. There is a hierarchy of desires in my life. To mortgage the tip of the pyramid in favor of the inconsequential middle portion? While my base was unstable to begin with? I had lost my way. I have lost my way.
When does the healing begin? How do I return to the core of me? It's too late for a lot of things. It's too late for the most important thing I've ever had, that which has brought me unparalleled happiness and a sense of purpose. But it's not yet too late to abandon the rottenness that has sprung up inside. I've descended far too many flights of stairs, and I may have actually reached rock bottom. But it's only there, I've heard it said, that we can truly rise up again to fight once more.
That is where I am. In the pit. Surrounded by nothing. I did wrong, so very wrong, to myself and to those whose opinions mattered the most, or even at all. And now I must face those consequences. I don't want to. I hate them. I wish I had never sunk this low in the first place. But of course any beaten man will say that. We will say anything to rid ourselves of this despair. But only I can do something about it. Alone, but not truly. Perhaps there is another, an omniscient presence. I don't know. I once did. And that was what made me happy. That's when my life was under control, where I embraced the tenets of right living and became that which was appealing to the only one who matters.
I don't want to return to my former splendor (if you will) because of the wishes (or as a result of the indifference) of another. I'd be remiss if I didn't say that it certainly plays a role, but this is for me. Seek my inner self for that happiness, that truth and rightness. Better the self, and who knows what could happen.
I have seen perfection. Twice. I've lost it both times. But there's nowhere else to go but back up.
*It was actually the best week I've had...Friday to Thursday. I was happy.
Waiting For October
I used to watch The Adventures of Pete and Pete fairly often when I was a youngster. The show, for some reason or another, resonated with me to the point that I was first in line when the DVD boxset finally came out. As I was finally able to watch and rewatch the episodes that had so intrigued me when I was little, I fully realized the crossover appeal that the show had with kids and parents. The humor was so dry, and yet so approachable. It was a great melding the two, and that's even before I mention the indie rock music that was prevalent in every episode.
Anyway, one of the songs that was used quite often in the show was called "Waiting For October," and I thought that it was only fitting to discuss it today. The song was sung by Polaris, a band that allowed a large chunk of their catalogue to be used in the series. I recall the lyrics being pretty odd for a children's show: "Waiting for October, I cross my fingers, cross my heart, and hope to die." What is going on here? Hope to die? In a Nickelodeon show? What is going on here? I don't really know...
To those precious few who still read my blog, thank you. You may have noticed that this post is a bit fractured. I'm not really into it. Yes, it's October. This is a good thing. But I have other things I need to write about.
Anyway, one of the songs that was used quite often in the show was called "Waiting For October," and I thought that it was only fitting to discuss it today. The song was sung by Polaris, a band that allowed a large chunk of their catalogue to be used in the series. I recall the lyrics being pretty odd for a children's show: "Waiting for October, I cross my fingers, cross my heart, and hope to die." What is going on here? Hope to die? In a Nickelodeon show? What is going on here? I don't really know...
To those precious few who still read my blog, thank you. You may have noticed that this post is a bit fractured. I'm not really into it. Yes, it's October. This is a good thing. But I have other things I need to write about.
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