Let me say this first, I don’t consider time to be all that important. What I mean is that from my own personal vantage point, when someone needs me, I am there. I don’t put limits on the hour of the day or the weather. The people I know don’t ask things of me lightly. Usually, if someone needs me for something it’s a task they can’t achieve on their own.
Sleep has always been kind of an enemy of mine. I regularly average about 5 hours per night. This isn’t new; I’ve been less than a fan of sleep since I was 10 or so. Joining the Army only drove that aspect deeper into me. There were frequent 48 to 50 hour marathons of work. You would snatch sleep where you could and got used to resting in the oddest places.
Unfortunately this has caused me not to understand or appreciate how some people need 8 to 10 hours of sleep a day. I have a former neighbor who pretty much spends his entire weekend sleeping or taking constant naps. For him this is a good thing and the way he wants to live his life. More power to him I say. But it’s an alien concept to me.
The problem with all this usually happens when I need something from my wife at 2AM. She is a sleeper. One of those people who can fall asleep in 3.2 seconds. I’ve always been amazed at how she can be talking one moment and softly snoring before completely getting out the last of her sentence. How is this a problem you ask?
Well, there isn’t a common middle ground about time. I think nothing of being awake and working until the wee hours of the morning. If she makes it past midnight it’s usually cause for celebration. I know that our bodies are different and I’ve grown used to not sleeping all the time, but I am really beginning to wonder just how deep that difference goes.
Sleeping is a form of death to me. A period of time that I just exist and am not in some sort of control. Just like time, which I consider an artificial thing that humans created to keep track of their lives. I’ve been in situations where I’ve lived on a schedule that is closer to the way that the world actually works. You wake when it’s time to wake, not to some fucking alarm clock. Your body gets the rest it needs according to its own internal clock. To me that’s more natural, but the problem is, the working world survives on an artificial schedule that no one even knows who created.
You have to wake up two to three hours earlier than normal in order to ‘get ready’ or ‘beat the traffic’. And for some reason those of us who manage to find ways to make money with methods that don’t require a 9 to 5 schedule are looked at like some kind of aliens. If we don’t work for a company or deal with rush hour traffic then there is something wrong. We aren’t living ‘the American dream’. It’s pathetic. I really can’t imagine anything more American than making your way under your own steam. Its how this country was built.
I know three music stars, multiple writers, some website designers and one photographer who are making money hand over fist without the normal 9 to 5 grind. Their schedules are their own. They work quite a bit harder than the average person who puts in 8 hours at the office, but they are still viewed at as if they are slacking in some way. It’s all a bit sad.
And then there is the impact that artificial time schedules have on children. Studies have shown over and over again that when children pigeonholed into the same social standards without thought for that child’s individual gifts, the child suffers. Creativity is reduced, original thought is stifled and long term growth is sacrificed for conformity. Now magnify shoving children into that mold over the course of a lifetime and what do you get?
I won’t answer that. There are people out their light years smarter than me who have it all figured out.
Anyway, time for me is something that happens at its own pace. I try not to put limits on things because I am not in control of anything outside of my immediate environment. (It’s a work in progress and I am not always able to maintain my focus or my composure) If my wife, family member or good friend needs me at 3AM I am not going to quibble because it’s dark outside. I am also trying my hardest not to stick my kids into any one version of how they should spend their time. There are structured moments and there are moments that just exist. My greatest hope is that they turn out to be adults who know when to worry about time and when not to.
In other words, not slaves to a damned time clock. Wish me luck…
Peace.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Growing pains
Watching my 16 year old go through the dance of life has been an enlightening experience.
Since I passed that stage so long ago it’s been relegated to the dim parts of my memory and the feelings that I had are largely forgotten. The only thing I remember clearly was having a lot more freedom than my sisters. I did have a serious girlfriend who eventually became my wife and the mother of my oldest son. Serious as in she was my first sexual experience. Serious as in we stayed together through high school and my first year in Germany until I returned to the states and we were married.
She played her games while I was gone and I played mine, but when it came time to be serious, she was the one who actually pushed the issue of marriage. I was perfectly willing to wait, but I think she was in a hurry to get on with her life.
Anyway, I am getting away from my point.
My second son is 16. He is experiencing the push for independence in a way that I wish I’d done.
Let me see if I can make this clear. By the time I was his age I’d already been having sex for about 8 months. I’d joined the army on the delayed enlistment program during the summer of 1982. I’d been ready to be an adult for quite some time, taking courses that weren’t typical for high school students. Things like how to manage money, how to buy a house, how to buy stocks and other things. I was ready to be an adult.
Or so I thought…
I won’t get into the mess I made of things. The people who know me best are aware of the fucked up choices I made.
But my son, who is the focus of this post, is ready to make the same jump. He is convinced that he can take care of himself. Now don’t misunderstand me, he knows that a job at Publix isn’t going to pay any major bills. He also knows that getting his ‘girlfriend’ pregnant would be tantamount to an Irwin Allen disaster film. But he is chomping at the bit to get on with his life. He wants to make his own rules. He wants to be able to drive himself to school, and to the movies. He wants to be able to get up in the morning to his own schedule and get ready the way he feels suits who he is.
I understand him. I also know that there is a lot he doesn’t know. It makes me wonder about myself as a parent and human being. Since I had a lot of the same desire to write my own destiny I can appreciate his impatience. My problem was, I was never as sure of myself as he seems to be. He knows that he is not perfect. He also knows that no one else will dictate his success or failure. In that vein he is light years ahead of where I was at his age. He is aware of the fact that in order to grow he has to ‘do him’ and not really allow anyone else into the decision making process that will move him away from that.
I find myself envying him. I wonder where I would be right now if I’d been as self aware as he is.
I’ve spent my life putting other people first. It was a choice and I am not really upset by it, but it doesn’t keep me from being aware that there were options that I missed.
My children are the primary reason for my continuing struggle to be a good dad and writer. I figure that if I am able to create the career I truly want then I can help them realize that there is much more to life than just graduating from school and going to work for someone else.
My second son, all of 16 and ½ is a constant reminder of the fact that no matter how bad I screw up, they will grow into the people they were meant to be. I know that I have some impact on how they turn out, but for the most part their adult lives will be whatever they choose. Just as my mother only had a minimal impact on my adult life. I can guide them only so far. The human imperative is to attempt to live life on your own terms. If you never stray from who you were when your parents were controlling your every move have you truly lived?
It’s just interesting to me when I look at how much of a difference there is between my 16 year old and me. And it’s even more interesting when I look at how similar we are…
Peace
Since I passed that stage so long ago it’s been relegated to the dim parts of my memory and the feelings that I had are largely forgotten. The only thing I remember clearly was having a lot more freedom than my sisters. I did have a serious girlfriend who eventually became my wife and the mother of my oldest son. Serious as in she was my first sexual experience. Serious as in we stayed together through high school and my first year in Germany until I returned to the states and we were married.
She played her games while I was gone and I played mine, but when it came time to be serious, she was the one who actually pushed the issue of marriage. I was perfectly willing to wait, but I think she was in a hurry to get on with her life.
Anyway, I am getting away from my point.
My second son is 16. He is experiencing the push for independence in a way that I wish I’d done.
Let me see if I can make this clear. By the time I was his age I’d already been having sex for about 8 months. I’d joined the army on the delayed enlistment program during the summer of 1982. I’d been ready to be an adult for quite some time, taking courses that weren’t typical for high school students. Things like how to manage money, how to buy a house, how to buy stocks and other things. I was ready to be an adult.
Or so I thought…
I won’t get into the mess I made of things. The people who know me best are aware of the fucked up choices I made.
But my son, who is the focus of this post, is ready to make the same jump. He is convinced that he can take care of himself. Now don’t misunderstand me, he knows that a job at Publix isn’t going to pay any major bills. He also knows that getting his ‘girlfriend’ pregnant would be tantamount to an Irwin Allen disaster film. But he is chomping at the bit to get on with his life. He wants to make his own rules. He wants to be able to drive himself to school, and to the movies. He wants to be able to get up in the morning to his own schedule and get ready the way he feels suits who he is.
I understand him. I also know that there is a lot he doesn’t know. It makes me wonder about myself as a parent and human being. Since I had a lot of the same desire to write my own destiny I can appreciate his impatience. My problem was, I was never as sure of myself as he seems to be. He knows that he is not perfect. He also knows that no one else will dictate his success or failure. In that vein he is light years ahead of where I was at his age. He is aware of the fact that in order to grow he has to ‘do him’ and not really allow anyone else into the decision making process that will move him away from that.
I find myself envying him. I wonder where I would be right now if I’d been as self aware as he is.
I’ve spent my life putting other people first. It was a choice and I am not really upset by it, but it doesn’t keep me from being aware that there were options that I missed.
My children are the primary reason for my continuing struggle to be a good dad and writer. I figure that if I am able to create the career I truly want then I can help them realize that there is much more to life than just graduating from school and going to work for someone else.
My second son, all of 16 and ½ is a constant reminder of the fact that no matter how bad I screw up, they will grow into the people they were meant to be. I know that I have some impact on how they turn out, but for the most part their adult lives will be whatever they choose. Just as my mother only had a minimal impact on my adult life. I can guide them only so far. The human imperative is to attempt to live life on your own terms. If you never stray from who you were when your parents were controlling your every move have you truly lived?
It’s just interesting to me when I look at how much of a difference there is between my 16 year old and me. And it’s even more interesting when I look at how similar we are…
Peace
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Fractured
I’m sure that no one will be surprised when I say there are things about who I am that I have never shared with anyone else. Nor will I ever share them. Some are embarrassing. Some are stupid and some are completely out there.
Not that I’m a closet serial killer or anything crazy. I just know that deep inside of me are things that the people I know wouldn’t accept. My friends and family are very practical people. They base their entire lives on the world around them. Cars, home, friends, jobs, bills, etc. There isn’t any room for things that don’t immediately lead to money or status.
I’ve always been a dreamer. Connected to the world only by the most tenuous of threads. Anchored here by my choices, like everyone else, but not really fitting into a convenient mold.
Black dreamers are shunned. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.
Every time I’ve tried to mire myself in the mendacity of life it never works. I end up severely depressed and out of sorts. Usually it takes a trip to the ocean to cure this. Or cooking for a lot of people. Cooking always seems to help moderate my mental status.
But I’ve noticed one thing that has become a real problem.
Since I have to live in the world in order to support myself and my family, I have to suppress the parts of me that want to dream. Dreaming isn’t logical when the mortgage is due. I also have to block the childish part that ‘wants what it wants right now…dammit’! This part is responsible for a lot of my sex drive, but that obviously has to be controlled since I am trying to build businesses in both the profit and non-profit world.
Although, I do sometimes wonder if a blast of sexual energy could be beneficial in business meetings. People tend to gravitate towards people that are attractive. Human beings have build millions of businesses out of the same energy that drives sexuality and desire for fulfillment.
The problem with all this fracturing is I will tend to live my life in chunks separated by what I am doing at that moment. Instead of being a whole person all the time, I will be one way with business partners, one way with my family, and yet another way with friends and acquaintances. Given enough time I won’t know who the fuck I am anymore. Am I the businessman? Am I the father? Am I the husband, the son, the brother, the friend? A combination of all of them? At which point do I switch it all off and just be me? And since I brought that up, what exactly does ‘me’ mean? I have a friend who swears that the part that thinks it is ‘me’ is my ego and it’s trying to kill anything good that might happen just so it can stay alive in its status quo. He says that each time I fail at something it’s because my ego sensed its own impending death and found a way to talk me out of the change.
I wonder if this is why so many people seem two-faced or wishy-washy. They have spent so long developing different personalities for different occasions (protecting their ego) that they have completely forgotten who they truly are. They bury parts of themselves so deep that it’s impossible to remember anything of value about their inner being. No wonder so many humans are borderline schizophrenic.
The Wikipedia entry defines it this way –
Schizophrenia (pronounced /ˌskɪtsəˈfrɛniə/ or pronounced /ˌskɪtsəˈfriːniə/), from the Greek roots skhizein (σχίζειν, "to split") and phrēn, phren- (φρήν, φρεν-, "mind") is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a mental disorder characterized by abnormalities in the perception or expression of reality. It most commonly manifests as auditory hallucinations, paranoid or bizarre delusions, or disorganized speech and thinking with significant social or occupational dysfunction. Onset of symptoms typically occurs in young adulthood,[1] with approximately 0.4–0.6%[2][3] of the population affected. Diagnosis is based on the patient's self-reported experiences and observed behavior.
The article goes on to say this –
The disorder is thought to mainly affect cognition, but it also usually contributes to chronic problems with behavior and emotion. People with schizophrenia are likely to have additional (comorbid) conditions, including major depression and anxiety disorders;[7] the lifetime occurrence of substance abuse is around 40%. Social problems, such as long-term unemployment, poverty and homelessness, are common. Furthermore, the average life expectancy of people with the disorder is 10 to 12 years less than those without, due to increased physical health problems and a higher suicide rate
Hell, the whole article is worth reading –
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schizophrenia
So add to that stew our desire to fit in with society, sometimes at all costs. I am no different than anyone else. I want to be loved and needed. I want to feel valued and know that my contributions matter. I know that I have done things that go against who I am in order to fit in.
That’s not even news. What is fascinating is the effect that long term exposure to that kind of thinking has done to my life. It’s hard to feel like I am in charge when I’ve fractured myself to fit the situation so much.
It’s only now, at 43, that I realize I can’t live this way anymore. Falling into someone else’s orbit isn’t acceptable because I realize I will never be the writer I want to be unless I change.
That’s why I picked honesty and focus for this year. I would have failed miserably if I’d just made some stupid resolution to lose weight or something. That shit never works. But this..
This is working very well.
Peace.
Not that I’m a closet serial killer or anything crazy. I just know that deep inside of me are things that the people I know wouldn’t accept. My friends and family are very practical people. They base their entire lives on the world around them. Cars, home, friends, jobs, bills, etc. There isn’t any room for things that don’t immediately lead to money or status.
I’ve always been a dreamer. Connected to the world only by the most tenuous of threads. Anchored here by my choices, like everyone else, but not really fitting into a convenient mold.
Black dreamers are shunned. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.
Every time I’ve tried to mire myself in the mendacity of life it never works. I end up severely depressed and out of sorts. Usually it takes a trip to the ocean to cure this. Or cooking for a lot of people. Cooking always seems to help moderate my mental status.
But I’ve noticed one thing that has become a real problem.
Since I have to live in the world in order to support myself and my family, I have to suppress the parts of me that want to dream. Dreaming isn’t logical when the mortgage is due. I also have to block the childish part that ‘wants what it wants right now…dammit’! This part is responsible for a lot of my sex drive, but that obviously has to be controlled since I am trying to build businesses in both the profit and non-profit world.
Although, I do sometimes wonder if a blast of sexual energy could be beneficial in business meetings. People tend to gravitate towards people that are attractive. Human beings have build millions of businesses out of the same energy that drives sexuality and desire for fulfillment.
The problem with all this fracturing is I will tend to live my life in chunks separated by what I am doing at that moment. Instead of being a whole person all the time, I will be one way with business partners, one way with my family, and yet another way with friends and acquaintances. Given enough time I won’t know who the fuck I am anymore. Am I the businessman? Am I the father? Am I the husband, the son, the brother, the friend? A combination of all of them? At which point do I switch it all off and just be me? And since I brought that up, what exactly does ‘me’ mean? I have a friend who swears that the part that thinks it is ‘me’ is my ego and it’s trying to kill anything good that might happen just so it can stay alive in its status quo. He says that each time I fail at something it’s because my ego sensed its own impending death and found a way to talk me out of the change.
I wonder if this is why so many people seem two-faced or wishy-washy. They have spent so long developing different personalities for different occasions (protecting their ego) that they have completely forgotten who they truly are. They bury parts of themselves so deep that it’s impossible to remember anything of value about their inner being. No wonder so many humans are borderline schizophrenic.
The Wikipedia entry defines it this way –
Schizophrenia (pronounced /ˌskɪtsəˈfrɛniə/ or pronounced /ˌskɪtsəˈfriːniə/), from the Greek roots skhizein (σχίζειν, "to split") and phrēn, phren- (φρήν, φρεν-, "mind") is a psychiatric diagnosis that describes a mental disorder characterized by abnormalities in the perception or expression of reality. It most commonly manifests as auditory hallucinations, paranoid or bizarre delusions, or disorganized speech and thinking with significant social or occupational dysfunction. Onset of symptoms typically occurs in young adulthood,[1] with approximately 0.4–0.6%[2][3] of the population affected. Diagnosis is based on the patient's self-reported experiences and observed behavior.
The article goes on to say this –
The disorder is thought to mainly affect cognition, but it also usually contributes to chronic problems with behavior and emotion. People with schizophrenia are likely to have additional (comorbid) conditions, including major depression and anxiety disorders;[7] the lifetime occurrence of substance abuse is around 40%. Social problems, such as long-term unemployment, poverty and homelessness, are common. Furthermore, the average life expectancy of people with the disorder is 10 to 12 years less than those without, due to increased physical health problems and a higher suicide rate
Hell, the whole article is worth reading –
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schizophrenia
So add to that stew our desire to fit in with society, sometimes at all costs. I am no different than anyone else. I want to be loved and needed. I want to feel valued and know that my contributions matter. I know that I have done things that go against who I am in order to fit in.
That’s not even news. What is fascinating is the effect that long term exposure to that kind of thinking has done to my life. It’s hard to feel like I am in charge when I’ve fractured myself to fit the situation so much.
It’s only now, at 43, that I realize I can’t live this way anymore. Falling into someone else’s orbit isn’t acceptable because I realize I will never be the writer I want to be unless I change.
That’s why I picked honesty and focus for this year. I would have failed miserably if I’d just made some stupid resolution to lose weight or something. That shit never works. But this..
This is working very well.
Peace.
Escaping childhood
Or can you?
If I do an honest assessment of who I am now I am convinced that I have only moved fractionally away from the person I was as a child.
As a child I –
· Loved science and science fiction (movies, TV shows, novels, short stories, it didn’t matter so long as there was a spaceship or an alien)
· Thought horror movies were the coolest thing ever
· Love to try to write stories to entertain myself
· Loved to spend time by myself in the woods or on the beach
· Avoided large crowds of people or enclosed spaces
· Felt that most people could be trusted – to a point
· Worried that I didn’t fit in with my family or friends
· Worried about the future and what kind of life I would have as a poor child from the projects
· Wondered if I would ever meet someone who loved me for who I really was
· Was terrified of the alcoholic dentist that we went to
· Loved the old radio serials from the 40’s and 50’s
· Truly believed that Humphrey Bogart was the best actor of all time
· Never noticed that there weren’t any black people in the old Saturday morning scifi movies that I loved so much (and didn’t really care)
And things haven’t really changed all that much since I’ve become an ‘adult’ –
· Love science and science fiction (movies, TV shows, novels, short stories, it doesn’t matter so long as there was a spaceship or an alien, but my tastes have changed a bit to be more sophisticated)
· Think horror movies have largely given way to loads of fake blood being thrown all over the set instead of inspiring true fear
· Still love to try to write stories to entertain myself (but all of a sudden it isn’t as much fun as it used to be)
· Love to spend time by myself in the woods or on the beach (just have to plan ahead now)
· Avoided large crowds of people or enclosed spaces (this hasn’t changed at all)
· Feel that most people can be trusted – to a point
· Still don’t fit in with my family or friends (especially since I stopped drinking)
· Worried about the future and what kind of life I would have as a man who is determined to find his own way
· Know that it’s possible to meet someone who loves me for me, but now I wonder how much of myself it’s safe to share
· Still isn’t all that fond of dentist or the dentistry profession
· Still loves the old radio serials from the 40’s and 50’s (just listen to them on my iPod now)
· Truly believed that Humphrey Bogart was the best actor of all time (Yep!)
· Never noticed that there weren’t any black people in the old Saturday morning scifi movies that I loved so much (and didn’t really care)(but now I am aware and pissed off for the fact that it has ruined the nostalgic feeling of watching the movies. I can’t just enjoy them for their own merits, everything is about whether there are black people in it…)
On the whole the only thing that really ‘changed’ was that I discovered sex. And I’ll be honest, I don’t know how much of a benefit that was. Sex is cool and all, but I apparently don’t know the difference between what’s supposed to be ‘normal’ and what is supposed to be ‘extreme’ or ‘too much’. But that topic is for another blog entry.
Right now I want to further examine the aspect of my seeming lack of change from then to now. I consider my childhood up to the point that we moved to California and I met the first girl I had sex with. I was 15. It totally stopped every other thought running through my head and as far as I’m concerned it started the path to adulthood that I am still on.
I choose this point because it was a major crossroads in creating ‘me’. Up to that point all I cared about was hanging out with my friends, playing D&D, riding my bike and otherwise being left alone. After that first time, lots of things that used to matter stopped being important.
I began planning for the future. I began to realize that life would change drastically, especially after I graduated. I can’t be sure, but I think that was the thought process that made me sign up for the military at 16 and then leave home before my 18th birthday. But through it all, I never really ‘changed’. My focus was different since I was no longer a child with child wants and needs. Who I was inside didn’t shift at all.
It wasn’t really until recently that I’ve begun to feel the pull of mortality. Having the first job that I’d ever had where injuries were common sort of woke me up to the vulnerability of my body. Having a job where mental abuse was common woke me up to the vulnerability of my mind and spirit. And then there was the damned foreclosure…
Despite all that, I still feel the same inside. I still like everything that’s on the list above. I still feel the same dislikes and have the same fears. That’s what got me to wondering if people ever really change.
Yes they get older and their tastes alter. Tastes in clothes, friends, foods, sexual habits, etc. But they don’t really ‘change’. There are people I’ve known my entire 43 years who are, at their core, the same person they were when we were kids together in Utica.
A lot of my current friends are the same people they were when I met them 5, 10 or 20 years ago. They still eat, drink, hang out, smoke weed, fuck, get screwed and communicate the same way they did when I met them. Sometimes they have to modify their diet due to some new ailment or fad diet, but that’s not a true change.
In my time I’ve never met anyone who has done a complete 180 paradigm shift from who they are. No one had gone from being an alcoholic to being a sober priest. No one has left the projects and become a multi millionaire business owner.
And the evidence is all over the news and media outlets. Even people who become huge music or movie stars aren’t able to leave who they are behind them. For reference think about people like Mike Vick, Kurt Cobain, hip-hop singer Chris Brown, Tupac, Notorious BIG, rapper T.I., Michael Jackson, O.J. Simpson, Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus, and the list goes on and on.
These are people at the top of their game. They have money flowing out of every orifice and yet they still end up in trouble or in jail, or dead. They have thousands of adoring fans and the world at their fingertips. But they cannot let go of who they are inside. Makes me wonder just how far they are from who they were as kids.
Your childhood shapes you. I know a man who is a professional writer. He is good at what he does and he loves the life he’s built for himself. But he’s told me stories of being beat up by bullies at his school. Those events led him to martial arts. He still practices martial arts to this day. And that’s what I mean by events shape who you are. If he hadn’t been bullied would he have gone into martial arts? Would the same need that drove him have even existed? And was the need based on fear of being beat up again, maybe even as an adult? So from this arc of being a scared kid to adult, not much has changed. The feelings of back then forced an alteration, but didn’t change the base reality. He now knows how to take care of himself, but he’s admitted that the fear of being hit or injured is still there. He doesn’t care for sparring for that very reason.
Maybe I’m off on this one a bit, but I don’t think so.
If I do an honest assessment of who I am now I am convinced that I have only moved fractionally away from the person I was as a child.
As a child I –
· Loved science and science fiction (movies, TV shows, novels, short stories, it didn’t matter so long as there was a spaceship or an alien)
· Thought horror movies were the coolest thing ever
· Love to try to write stories to entertain myself
· Loved to spend time by myself in the woods or on the beach
· Avoided large crowds of people or enclosed spaces
· Felt that most people could be trusted – to a point
· Worried that I didn’t fit in with my family or friends
· Worried about the future and what kind of life I would have as a poor child from the projects
· Wondered if I would ever meet someone who loved me for who I really was
· Was terrified of the alcoholic dentist that we went to
· Loved the old radio serials from the 40’s and 50’s
· Truly believed that Humphrey Bogart was the best actor of all time
· Never noticed that there weren’t any black people in the old Saturday morning scifi movies that I loved so much (and didn’t really care)
And things haven’t really changed all that much since I’ve become an ‘adult’ –
· Love science and science fiction (movies, TV shows, novels, short stories, it doesn’t matter so long as there was a spaceship or an alien, but my tastes have changed a bit to be more sophisticated)
· Think horror movies have largely given way to loads of fake blood being thrown all over the set instead of inspiring true fear
· Still love to try to write stories to entertain myself (but all of a sudden it isn’t as much fun as it used to be)
· Love to spend time by myself in the woods or on the beach (just have to plan ahead now)
· Avoided large crowds of people or enclosed spaces (this hasn’t changed at all)
· Feel that most people can be trusted – to a point
· Still don’t fit in with my family or friends (especially since I stopped drinking)
· Worried about the future and what kind of life I would have as a man who is determined to find his own way
· Know that it’s possible to meet someone who loves me for me, but now I wonder how much of myself it’s safe to share
· Still isn’t all that fond of dentist or the dentistry profession
· Still loves the old radio serials from the 40’s and 50’s (just listen to them on my iPod now)
· Truly believed that Humphrey Bogart was the best actor of all time (Yep!)
· Never noticed that there weren’t any black people in the old Saturday morning scifi movies that I loved so much (and didn’t really care)(but now I am aware and pissed off for the fact that it has ruined the nostalgic feeling of watching the movies. I can’t just enjoy them for their own merits, everything is about whether there are black people in it…)
On the whole the only thing that really ‘changed’ was that I discovered sex. And I’ll be honest, I don’t know how much of a benefit that was. Sex is cool and all, but I apparently don’t know the difference between what’s supposed to be ‘normal’ and what is supposed to be ‘extreme’ or ‘too much’. But that topic is for another blog entry.
Right now I want to further examine the aspect of my seeming lack of change from then to now. I consider my childhood up to the point that we moved to California and I met the first girl I had sex with. I was 15. It totally stopped every other thought running through my head and as far as I’m concerned it started the path to adulthood that I am still on.
I choose this point because it was a major crossroads in creating ‘me’. Up to that point all I cared about was hanging out with my friends, playing D&D, riding my bike and otherwise being left alone. After that first time, lots of things that used to matter stopped being important.
I began planning for the future. I began to realize that life would change drastically, especially after I graduated. I can’t be sure, but I think that was the thought process that made me sign up for the military at 16 and then leave home before my 18th birthday. But through it all, I never really ‘changed’. My focus was different since I was no longer a child with child wants and needs. Who I was inside didn’t shift at all.
It wasn’t really until recently that I’ve begun to feel the pull of mortality. Having the first job that I’d ever had where injuries were common sort of woke me up to the vulnerability of my body. Having a job where mental abuse was common woke me up to the vulnerability of my mind and spirit. And then there was the damned foreclosure…
Despite all that, I still feel the same inside. I still like everything that’s on the list above. I still feel the same dislikes and have the same fears. That’s what got me to wondering if people ever really change.
Yes they get older and their tastes alter. Tastes in clothes, friends, foods, sexual habits, etc. But they don’t really ‘change’. There are people I’ve known my entire 43 years who are, at their core, the same person they were when we were kids together in Utica.
A lot of my current friends are the same people they were when I met them 5, 10 or 20 years ago. They still eat, drink, hang out, smoke weed, fuck, get screwed and communicate the same way they did when I met them. Sometimes they have to modify their diet due to some new ailment or fad diet, but that’s not a true change.
In my time I’ve never met anyone who has done a complete 180 paradigm shift from who they are. No one had gone from being an alcoholic to being a sober priest. No one has left the projects and become a multi millionaire business owner.
And the evidence is all over the news and media outlets. Even people who become huge music or movie stars aren’t able to leave who they are behind them. For reference think about people like Mike Vick, Kurt Cobain, hip-hop singer Chris Brown, Tupac, Notorious BIG, rapper T.I., Michael Jackson, O.J. Simpson, Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus, and the list goes on and on.
These are people at the top of their game. They have money flowing out of every orifice and yet they still end up in trouble or in jail, or dead. They have thousands of adoring fans and the world at their fingertips. But they cannot let go of who they are inside. Makes me wonder just how far they are from who they were as kids.
Your childhood shapes you. I know a man who is a professional writer. He is good at what he does and he loves the life he’s built for himself. But he’s told me stories of being beat up by bullies at his school. Those events led him to martial arts. He still practices martial arts to this day. And that’s what I mean by events shape who you are. If he hadn’t been bullied would he have gone into martial arts? Would the same need that drove him have even existed? And was the need based on fear of being beat up again, maybe even as an adult? So from this arc of being a scared kid to adult, not much has changed. The feelings of back then forced an alteration, but didn’t change the base reality. He now knows how to take care of himself, but he’s admitted that the fear of being hit or injured is still there. He doesn’t care for sparring for that very reason.
Maybe I’m off on this one a bit, but I don’t think so.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Life after foreclosure
To those of you still mired in the foreclosure monster of doom, let me give you a word of encouragement from the far side of the tunnel.
The world doesn’t stop spinning because you lose your house.
I know that sounds a bit blunt, but I have to be honest. I went through the whole gamut of emotions that result when you realize that nothing you do will save the place that you are living and most likely consider home. From denial to anger to acceptance, I didn’t skip a single phase. I laughed, I cried, I screamed at the universe about how unfair it all was. I even questioned the sanity of homeownership as an institution. With this many people losing their homes, isn’t it kind of odd that the ultimate expression of ‘making it in America’ has always been purchasing a home?
The oddest aspect of the whole affair was how I was treated by people with whom I shared the truth. I had people who say they care about me shrug and walk away. I also had some wonderfully upbeat people enter my life. My wife and I sweated out many sleepless nights and the stress level became totally unbearable for a while. My average night’s sleep has been between 3.5 to 5 hours per night.
Sometimes a lot less.
I discovered something wonderful though. After calling everyone I could call. After reams of paperwork and loan modifications and strained phone conversations with strangers in different states – when everything seemed at its darkest ebb, I realized that we weren’t our home.
If you remain in one place long enough it becomes an extension of who you are. There’s nothing unusual about this. It extends to all areas of your life. Remember the phrase ‘You are what you eat’? -it’s the same thing with other aspects of life. Humans get used to all kinds of circumstances, situations and collusions. As a species we identify with the people and things that fill our lives. So it’s not a stretch to understand why so many people go through incredible pain and tribulation when it comes time to get a car or home repossessed. As a former tow truck driver I’ve seen firsthand how people act when you try to take things that they consider theirs. These events are often ugly, violent, and extremely human.
But what had to happen in order to keep my sanity and my family together was to realize and act on the fact that even though we loved our little house – ultimately, it’s just a house. A building with walls and windows. A hole in the ground that we throw our money into.
Our HOME is me, my wife, and our children. It also is made up of our true friends, close family and the interactions that make it all work. Our HOME is made of the time we spend together doing things that family does – living, loving, arguing, laughing, crying and growing together.
Should you find yourself in the unfortunate place remember something - you are a happy, loving individual. Probably with a family and friends who care a great deal about you. You probably have co-workers, church brothers and sisters, a mailman and the local 7/11 worker who care about you. (Even the guy or girl in the 7/11 cares more than your mortgage company - trust me). You are not a number on a balance sheet. You are not a statistic to be casually tossed around by some idiot on wall street or in Washington who’s trying to make a point. You won’t die and if you don’t give up and fold over you won’t even be homeless.
Remember to breathe.
And think! Never forget that you are able to work through any adversity so long as you don’t allow your mind to shut down. It’s true that you will lose your bearings from time to time. You will be afraid. You will be angry. Accept them for what they are, emotions responding to a stimulus, and then keep it moving.
You will be okay, trust and believe it.
Peace.
The world doesn’t stop spinning because you lose your house.
I know that sounds a bit blunt, but I have to be honest. I went through the whole gamut of emotions that result when you realize that nothing you do will save the place that you are living and most likely consider home. From denial to anger to acceptance, I didn’t skip a single phase. I laughed, I cried, I screamed at the universe about how unfair it all was. I even questioned the sanity of homeownership as an institution. With this many people losing their homes, isn’t it kind of odd that the ultimate expression of ‘making it in America’ has always been purchasing a home?
The oddest aspect of the whole affair was how I was treated by people with whom I shared the truth. I had people who say they care about me shrug and walk away. I also had some wonderfully upbeat people enter my life. My wife and I sweated out many sleepless nights and the stress level became totally unbearable for a while. My average night’s sleep has been between 3.5 to 5 hours per night.
Sometimes a lot less.
I discovered something wonderful though. After calling everyone I could call. After reams of paperwork and loan modifications and strained phone conversations with strangers in different states – when everything seemed at its darkest ebb, I realized that we weren’t our home.
If you remain in one place long enough it becomes an extension of who you are. There’s nothing unusual about this. It extends to all areas of your life. Remember the phrase ‘You are what you eat’? -it’s the same thing with other aspects of life. Humans get used to all kinds of circumstances, situations and collusions. As a species we identify with the people and things that fill our lives. So it’s not a stretch to understand why so many people go through incredible pain and tribulation when it comes time to get a car or home repossessed. As a former tow truck driver I’ve seen firsthand how people act when you try to take things that they consider theirs. These events are often ugly, violent, and extremely human.
But what had to happen in order to keep my sanity and my family together was to realize and act on the fact that even though we loved our little house – ultimately, it’s just a house. A building with walls and windows. A hole in the ground that we throw our money into.
Our HOME is me, my wife, and our children. It also is made up of our true friends, close family and the interactions that make it all work. Our HOME is made of the time we spend together doing things that family does – living, loving, arguing, laughing, crying and growing together.
Should you find yourself in the unfortunate place remember something - you are a happy, loving individual. Probably with a family and friends who care a great deal about you. You probably have co-workers, church brothers and sisters, a mailman and the local 7/11 worker who care about you. (Even the guy or girl in the 7/11 cares more than your mortgage company - trust me). You are not a number on a balance sheet. You are not a statistic to be casually tossed around by some idiot on wall street or in Washington who’s trying to make a point. You won’t die and if you don’t give up and fold over you won’t even be homeless.
Remember to breathe.
And think! Never forget that you are able to work through any adversity so long as you don’t allow your mind to shut down. It’s true that you will lose your bearings from time to time. You will be afraid. You will be angry. Accept them for what they are, emotions responding to a stimulus, and then keep it moving.
You will be okay, trust and believe it.
Peace.
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