Back

One thing about having chronic back problems is that it’s like joining a club.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a simple annoyance or requires surgery, you suddenly join a group.  It’s a pretty crappy club though.

We don’t have secret handshakes but we do have secret ways to shimmy our way to the bathroom in the morning.

The thing about having a bad back is that it is all consuming, and I don’t mean just physically.  An ailing back can damage even the strongest of pysche.  Let me give you an example:

Often when my back acts up it doesn’t really hurt, at least not yet.  The best way I can describe it is like an anxiety attack.  You can’t get comfortable staying still, it’s uncomfortable to move, and it’s a constantly building pressure of awkward annoyance.  Over the course of several hours it drives me to such distraction that I want to cause great bodily harm to my own person.

If you also have had back problems, I could simply shrug with a grimace and you would nod complete understanding.  The rest of you think that since it doesn’t really hurt, per se, that I should just take an aleve and get over it.  I’m not being hyperbolic about how aggravating this scenario is, by the way, if anything I’m selling it short.

There is also the indescribable feeling where you can feel that your back may end up going out, but you aren’t sure yet.  It’s frightening.  But to the uninitiated, you simply wonder why I’m acting strange if nothing is wrong yet.  Woe be to the fool who ignores the warning, because you will suffer.  But when you’re careful and the next day your back feels just fine?  Epic.

So yeah, you’re going to suffer from back ailments, but at least you aren’t alone.  Unfortunately, nobody in the club will listen to you complain because they know their turn is coming up soon...

I say "'Tard"

You know what I don’t understand?  Why we all make allowances for everybody else’s actions.  I’m as much a recipient of this as anybody else, so I’m not really complaining.  It’s just a wonder.  Haven’t you ever wanted to tell someone to “stop being such an f’n ‘tard?”

Let’s say you’re an asshole (me,) or a drunk (me,) or a stoner, or self-absorbed(me,) or living in the past, or shallow (me,) or any other of a myriad of assholery (me.)  Everybody just moves on.  We forgive the belligerent drunk because he was belligerently drunk.  We forgive the stoner because she was too out of it to pay attention.  We forgive the thieving ass-hat because it was the heroin’s fault.  Unless you kill somebody, we just seem to let it go.  And if you don’t, then you’re the mean prick for not forgiving them.  We have these silly interventions because we are “sad” or “worried.”  Why does it all have to come from love?  I think we should be allowed to tell people to stop being an idiot because they are being an idiot!  

In major things, this is obviously a problem.  The drunk driver who eventually kills the pregnant teenager taking night GED classes will be hated, but not until we have a dead teenager.  But what about the little things?  What about the person who has tons of potential but simply never lives up to it?  I’m not sure why we feel sorry for them when maybe we should be sorry we know them.  Look, I know that I’m a large waste of most peoples’ time even though I could have been a mediocre waste of most peoples’ time.  Isn’t that tragic? I coulda been a contenda!  But nobody is mad at me, they are just depressed about me.  (Speaking of which, stop thinking about me so much, it’s embarrassing.)

We like to make allowances for other people, and it’s pretty understandable.  Most of us don’t like conflict, and it’s rarely worthwhile even to those of us who do.  But it’s also condescending in a way.  It’s almost like you all expected my ass-hattery but were too kind to mention it when I was younger.  Why aren’t you vocally disappointed in the father who ignores his kids?  I’m pretty sure we’re allowed to refer to them with expletives, though I use them too often to have much sting.  But if you never swear and then call them a “fucktard,” think of how awesome that would be?  Some of you may be offended that I swear like a sailor, but when I stub my toe I get to swear like a sailor guilt free.  That’s worth your disappointment.

I’m not necessarily saying that this is all a bad thing.  I was at a party where somebody was far more touchy than they normally would have been.  It’s not like I wanted to give them a hard time for being red faced and happy.  We do make allowances for people, I’m just wondering if we go too far.  Unless I’ve blacked out, then I’m all for it.

He's a Peach

        Some people find me difficult to deal with.  That’s fair.

        However, I actually disagree with the assessment.  I understand where people are coming from, because I have somewhat arbitrary personality rules that are unyielding.  But the thing is, they are rules and I don’t change them.  In a sense, my arbitrary rules aren’t arbitrary at all because they are consistent.  If you think of it that way, I’m actually an incredibly easy person to deal with because you know exactly what you’re getting into.

        Let’s be honest, 95% of the time I don’t care enough to make an argument.  My Give-A-Shit-A-Meter (patent pending) generally spikes somewhere between “eh” and “meh.”  So you are more than likely to get your way, and not by a small margin.  The problem is the 5% of the time that I do make a decision.  The decision is made, and it’s that simple.  No argument, your point of view doesn’t matter.  And that’s not fair.  Deal.

        If you need to get your way all the time, or just want someone to actually care about your opinion 100% of the time, then yes, I am difficult.  But that ain’t changing cupcake because again, I am difficult.

        

Back to School

        Tis the season when the children are being ushered back to school.  First of all, good riddance.  I mean, you kids just prattle on and on about stupid stuff, and it isn’t even your fault.  It’s hard to know what value is until your life has lost some of it, and unless you’ve had an unfortunate childhood you haven’t had a chance to gain perspective yet.  Potential is a cruel mistress and idealism is a rich man’s game.  Wait until the signature on your rent check is your own.

        Exhale.

        But what I really wanted to do it give you a small piece of advice.  Because, I’m, y’know magnanimous and all.  I know in the past that I’ve been pretty adamant that I don’t like to give advice, but since you aren’t real people yet I’m making an exception.  So I’m going to advise you to do one thing:

        Embrace the bullshit.

        Yes, that means that I agree that you have to deal with a ton of ridiculousness in school.  Teachers aren’t particularly intelligent, in case you haven’t noticed.  They aren’t unintelligent either, they are just people with a job.  The best teachers are people who made an effort to learn because they had to, and hopefully still know more than you.  People who are too smart to struggle have no idea how to help other people through their struggles.

        What does this mean?  Don’t expect too much from your teachers and avoid the really smart ones.  But also, you are going to have bad teachers and good teachers having a bad day.  They may assign busy work just to get you to shut up.  As noted above, I am sympathetic to the sentiment.  You are going to be upset because it’s a waste of your time and the teacher doesn’t know what they’re talking about and you’re never going to have to use this stuff and you have other important things to do and nobody trusts you blah, blah, blah, BS, BS, BS.  

        Welcome to the rest of your life.  We all have to deal with crap that doesn’t make any sense or seems unfair.  How you deal with it directly correlates to how successful you can be.  Let me explain the corporate ladder to you, it only goes up.  You get promoted until you no longer deserve to move any higher, which typically means that you aren’t that good at what you do.  But they hardly ever move someone back down.  So unless your boss is still on their way up, they have reached their plateau of incompetence.  The plateau makes you bitter, so you take it out on your staff.  It’s not fair, he/she doesn’t know what they’re doing, nobody works harder than me, that’s my stapler, this place would shut down if it wasn’t for me blah, blah, blah, BS, BS, BS.

        And that’s the pattern.  The more comfortable you are with the suck, the better equipped you will be to handle it.  So all of that stupid busy work that is a waste of your time is actually one of the most important things you can take away from your education.  And typing, you should learn how to type.  You can pretty much ignore the rest. 

Debbie Downer

I have often heard the fair criticism that I’m overly negative.  Please don’t interpret “fair” with “constructive;” I’ve rarely ever heard constructive criticism about anything.  I’m pretty sure it’s just a way to feel justified being an asshole.

But back to the matter at hand, I’m willing to concede that I can be a bit of a downer.  I tend to see the downside of things.  And it doesn’t really matter what it is, a personality, world event, work changes, etc...  I always see the potential pitfalls.  But that’s an important distinction.  I may see the pitfalls, but I’m not looking for them.

Is that really a bad thing?  Let’s look at the macro realities here:  Am I going to win any puppy dog and sunshine awards?  No, but I’m not in a near constant state of crying either.  Am I consumed by dark moods and suicidal thoughts?  Of course not, every time I’ve almost killed myself has been completely accidental.  If anything, I’m defined by my apathy, which by definition is not depressive.  

One consideration that I think is pretty big here is that I’m not trying to convince anybody else of my worldview.  I see the downside initially and it doesn’t bother me.  It may bother you, but I’m not some Eeyore caricature trying to prove the depths of darkness in the world.  You may see me as depressing but don’t confuse that with me being depressed.  If I was actually anywhere near as negative as my reputation, one would think I’d act on my dark fantasies.

And lastly, I’m not going to apologize for the way I see the world.  People say I’m too negative but nobody ever accuses me of being inaccurate or fantastical.  I’ll never make a good cheerleader, but I may see a problem before it becomes a problem.  And if I’m bringing you down, stop talking to me.  Since I’m so negative I’ll probably figure it’s my fault anyway.

Somewhat Damaged

Current political events have got me thinking about idealism, which is never a good topic for me.  I get it, I appreciate it, and I hate it.  I also don’t relate to it and never really have, so I don’t have the same long-term connection to it that others do.  Children are generally pretty idealistic (and incredibly mean) creatures, but I was never particularly optimistic (though I was mean.)  And please realize that not being optimistic does not make one a pessimist by default.  Those are opposites, not an either/or scenario.

Adult idealism is cute in it’s way, and it certainly has it’s uses.  I’d say the arts in particular have a need for chimerical thinking.  But blind faith and idealism is so remarkably easy and servile that there is no firm grasp on reality.  Idealism in politics, religion, or sports are so pervasive that you would almost believe they are fact based.  This is not to say that your politics, religion, or sporting affiliations are only a product of misguided idealism.  But it does mean that many adherents to your politics, religion, or sporting affiliations are guided by idiotic idealism.  And idiotic is the proper term for idealism when you get to be, I don’t know, an adult.

People want to hope for the best, to believe that good always wins.  This is apparent in our novels, our movies, and in the stories of our lives that we tend to share.  People like parables, they like to have meaning.  So do I, by the way.  I just compartmentalize entertainment away from reality.  The power of positive thinking is nothing more than mental masturbation.  This is all well and good in its place, just don’t place it everywhere.  The world is primarily grey, there is very little black and even less white.

I know that I tend to attack people’s paradigms, and for no reason other than I can.  On a Wiggin scale I’d probably be more Peter than Valentine (which would make me what?)  It’s a fault that won’t change, and I won’t apologize for something that I cannot control.  But in many instances, I think that I’m right to do such a thing, though not necessarily in such a hurtful manner.  People tend to have faith in their hopes, and that often leads to tragic mistakes.  When you follow a belief for the sake of the belief, you can never build the foundation to hold it up.  Belief has value as a beacon, but not an action.

Not to say that realists don’t make mistakes, we just make a different kind.  I’m simply less aggravated by the arrogant mistakes of people who think they know what’s best based on what they know, rather than the arrogant mistakes of people who believe they know what’s best because of what they hope.  Both ends of the spectrum are damaged, I’ll admit.  I just would hope more people would aim for the middle.  I’ve always thought being somewhat damaged is the appropriate goal.

But is it really?

“I guess it’s better than being alone.”

That’s a lyric from a song I’ve liked recently, though admittedly it isn’t all that original.  It’s one of those things that you see and hear alot, actually.  And the connotation is pretty consistent as well; not being alone is better than being alone.  I completely disagree.

Part of this may be the anti-social in me, but give me a little latitude here.  Being alone is frackin awesome!  You get to do what you want (nothing,) it’s quiet (with nothingness,) and it’s completely freeing (with nothing to get in the way.)  I enjoy my alone time; it’s where I’m most comfortable.  So for me, the phrase “it’s better than being alone” is astounding because whatever “it” is must be amazing!  It’s better than being alone?  What is this awesomeness?  Because alone rocks.  

Hold on a second, I know what you’re thinking.  How am I turning this negative statement into a positive statement?  That’s not my style, I’m the guy who can make you feel guilty for having happy (shallow) thoughts.  Aha!  That may be what ya’ll think, but it’s not always true.  If something is better than being alone it must truly be special.  I can’t imagine what it could possibly be, however, so I get to keep my downer cred.

Here’s the thing, the very concept that being alone is negative bothers me.  I get that humans are somewhat social creatures.  I also get that being alone can be a sign of being an outcast.  Trust me, I’ve had more than my fair share of unavoidable alone time.  You know, sitting around in a social setting with no one to talk to.  That can blow.  Side note:  Loneliness is far more acute with a group of people.  AKA: Junior High

But is that most of your alone time?  Do you avoid spending time by yourself because you’re scared of feeling that way?  I’d certainly hope not.  If you aren’t comfortable when no one else is around, how can you possibly be comfortable when someone is?  Own your alone time, it’s the only time you don’t have to share.  You can never be yourself as much as when you’re by yourself.  If you don’t know who you are alone, then you definitely don’t know who you are with someone else.  Now that can’t be healthy.

Seriously, name a single relationship defined by “it’s better than being alone” that ever actually turned out to be better than being alone?  See?  Alone is awesome.  

Non-Accomplishments

        I really don’t understand celebrating non-accomplishments.  And I will start off fair here, I’m not actually a huge fan of “celebration” in general.  But still,  I do understand celebrating accomplishments.  For the most part I’m pretty passive when people want to commemorate a whole lot of nothing, though on occasion I will protest.  And rant about it, like so.

        Many people like to have excuses for their actions.  “I want to go to happy hour with friends... I know!  It’s admin assistant day!  Yay!”  Yeah... that’s not necessary.  I’m an unapologetic guy, so if I want to get together with friends for happy hour, I’ll just ask them if they are free.  I have never done so, but I certainly would.  Creating false excuses for an activity makes it a false activity.  It’s a time consuming and absurdly unnecessary step.

        Birthdays exist in a grey area here, because some are legitimate milestones.  But at a certain point, how many of them really matter?  18, 21, 25, 30, 40, 50, 75... 90, 91, 92, 93.  For a solid 70 years every decade is the only time I’d actually see it as a borderline achievement for celebration.  You only get to think of not dying as an accomplishment if dying is the more likely scenario.  Think hospitals or war zones, or a hospital in a war zone.  That pretty much covers the list.  

        There are some other grey area accomplishments in my book.  Graduating high school, for instance.  Where I grew up most of us did graduate, it was an expected result of being in school.  So was it really an accomplishment?  In my eyes no, so no reason to dwell on it.  But again, it’s an actual accomplishment/milestone of a kind, so I completely understand other people wasting valuable time and money.

        What I really don’t understand at all is celebrating complete non-accomplishments.  If everyone gets the same trophy at the end of a tournament, none of the trophies matter.  You can get ice cream or a cookie afterward; but let’s not have a party.  If you come to work on time everyday you don’t deserve a pat on the back, you did your job.  

        I guess what really bugs me is that if you celebrate things that don’t really matter just because, you are doing a disservice to every celebration that has a purpose.  If you get a promotion you deserve to commemorate the moment because you achieved something.  But what if you had a party after you didn’t get fired during your probationary period?  Doesn’t that cheapen the later accomplishment?

        Then there are the children, the dirty, dirty children.  I’m on record as not being that great with kids.  I’m not inept, which again should not be seen as an accomplishment.  But we inundate our kids with these absurd congratulations and then they grow up thinking that they are automatically wonderful.  No you aren’t!  You are automatically mediocre or worse, but you can strive to be better.  You are SUPPOSED to strive to be better.  I was in an asinine basketball league as a kid that didn’t keep score.  If you can’t win, why in the bleepingly bleep bleep would you bleepingly bleep bleep even bleeping play!  I prefer not to reinforce mediocrity.  That’s why I tend not to be a repeat customer to shitty restaurants.  Don’t be a repeat customer to shitty children.

        So if you want to celebrate nothing, by all means do so.  Just don’t include me, you know how riled I can get.  If you want to reward or celebrate something of value I’ll reluctantly play ball, if you want delegitimize value for the future I probably won’t.  And then I’ll rant about it.

        I’ve had a lot of caffeine.

Really?

        Have you ever been to a store and after making your purchase heard the cashier morosely tell you to “have a wonderful day?”  Okay, that’s a stupid question.

        But have you ever been tempted to say “I don’t think you really mean that?”

        They don’t care how the rest of my day goes, and really, why would they?  I don’t particularly care how their day goes either, so it’s not like I’m blaming them.  Our interaction is completed, the rest of my day has nothing to do with you and vice versa.  I’m simply not a big fan of absurdities in the social contract.  You pretend to wish I have a good day, I pretend to hope that you do too...

        I’ve worked with people for many years now and in quite a few different settings.  I know that the corporate idea is that you thank people for their business so that they will come back and spend more money.  It’s a simple and painless way to increase sales.  Except that it doesn’t really work.  If you want to get my sale it is far more important not to be a douche during the entire process before we part ways.  The goodbye is near the bottom of the list of things I care about, and way below the hello.

        But really, if you’re going to tell me to have a wonderful day, please don’t sound so defeated.  Because while I already know you don’t mean it, that just makes it worse.

Loving the Ladies

        I think there has been some concern that I don’t love the ladies based on some recent posts.  This is not true, I love the ladies.  When I say “better half” I’m never referring to the guy.  Seriously, I’m way pro the ladies.  Also, I’m not anti-relationships.  I’m a bit iffy on marriage as a principal, but I’m not against any actual marriage.  If it makes you happy, go nuts, I really don’t care.

        The reason I may sound antagonistic towards the ladies is because I’m allowed to be antagonistic to the ladies.  Most people aren’t.  I’ll accept the consequences because they really aren’t that bad.  It’s not like I’m going to have to sleep on the couch.

        Couple things though; I do not believe in true love because it’s asinine and depressing.  In a world of billions you really want to believe in that one perfect person?  What if my one person is in Australia with a hot, hot accent?  That’d be awesome, but I’d probably never meet her.  And what if someone actually cared for me (hypothetically speaking) and I died?  Would I want that person to pine over me for the rest of their existence?  Okay, maybe a little bit.  But a normal person certainly wouldn’t.

        I also think coupling/relationships are all too often treated as a necessity.  Look, I deal with lots of people and for the most part would prefer if ya’ll didn’t breed.  Just saying, it’s not like the preservation of the species is at risk here.

        I do believe in lust at first sight.  I think the proof is all of the Pop music stars of the last couple decades.  Also, being that most of them have been teenage girls, I’m both sad and scared for the future.  Popular culture freaks me out.

        Maybe I go overboard on talking about how women are batshit insane.  But seriously?  Sometimes ya’ll are.  Not all the time.  But all of you, some of the time.  Men are nuts too, but at least I understand that kind of nuts.  I’m not holding insanity against you, I’ve had to walk down the feminine hygiene aisle.  I’m giving ya’ll all the credit in the world for dealing with that fiasco.

        So yeah, never interpret my ramblings as being anti-ladies or anti-relationships or anti-anything.  Except pennies, I hate pennies.  Also, I’m usually drunk, so that should probably be taken into consideration.

Pity Party

        It’s always interesting when people feel sorry for me.  I find the whole idea a bit astounding.  I certainly have many faults and quite a few things in life that could use improvement, but they are almost all my fault.  And many quite fixable at that, certainly nothing deserving special sympathy.

        Most of the pity relates to some misbegotten idea of potential loneliness, though I’m sure there are other reasons as well.  At the end of the day there are only so many movies to watch or books to read in your free time.  Eventually, you are just alone.

        Wait, people are continuing to make movies and write books?  Well, if my eyes get tired or I happen to go blind...

        What is this music of which you speak?  And they still make that?  Oh, I guess not real music anymore.

        Anyway, I think it all stems from the things in life that I simply do not get to have.  Let me give you some examples:

1. I do not get to go watch Romantic Comedies.
2. I do not get to tell someone about my day.
3. I do not get to bring a date to weddings.
4. I do not get to share my thoughts and feelings.
5. I do not get to expand my horizons with another’s perspective.

        All fine points, I do not get these things.  But I’m really more of a “have” kind of person than a “get” kind of person.  Observe:

1. I do not have to go watch Romantic Comedies.
2. I do not have to tell someone about my day.
3. I do not have to bring a date to weddings.
4. I do not have to share my thoughts and feelings.
5. I do not have to expand my horizons with another’s perspective.

        I feel this is actually a much more positive view of the world.  But hey, that’s just me.

Hater

        The best compliment that I think I’ve ever been given is when someone said that I look like I could be a “hater.”  I’m still not exactly sure what a hater is, but apparently it’s pretty intimidating.  This is several shades of awesome.  There are probably two things worth noting here:

        1.  The only thing that guys notice about each other is whether or not we can “take the other out.”  It’s not so much that we are always in a fighting mood or anything overly aggressive, but rather that if things came down to fight or flight we instinctively want to know what to do.  Women compare shoes, men: possible death scenarios.

        2.  I’m not very tall, a little pudgy, and extremely pale.  The pale would work if I was a specter, but unfortunately my (pudgy) tangibility takes that option away.

        Based on factoid #2, people like me aren’t generally all that high up the intimidation scale.  But apparently I do possess some sort of “hater” persona, so that bumps me up a few notches.  I have no idea why.  It could be that I’m always glaring at people, but I have pretty sensitive eyesight.  And you know what?  I don’t care, because it’s the best compliment ever.

Let's be friends!!!!!!!!

        I’m not sure why I have to clarify this, but I am not a friendly friend.  It’s a pretty absurd mistake to make, since I’m, like, me.  And have been for an awfully long time.

        I don’t want it to sound like some kind of negative thing.  It’s not like I don’t like my friends.  I don’t like all of them or anything, but I’m amenable to some of them.  Just don’t expect me to be the happy cuddly kind of friend.  

        Look, if you’re moving and can afford beer, give me a call.  If you need a ride to the hospital because you shattered your hip, call 911.  Don’t wait for me, crazy person.  If there is something generic and undaunting that needs to be accomplished, I’m the friend to call.   I’m a generic and undaunting companion.  I’ll even buy the last round, I’m just that sort of cat.

        If you’re having emotional issues or want validation?  Not so much.  I’m the friend who can outdrink you.  I’m the friend who can trump your embarrassing stories because, again, I can outdrink you.  The only way someone like me makes somebody else feel better about themselves is when they look at my life critically and say, “damn.”  But you don’t need me around for that.

        So please people (person,) when you want a friend to go out and have a good time or be supportive in a trying time, call a woman.  It ain’t me, babe.

Please God will somebody please, please know the song reference of the last sentence...

Public Service

If you are old enough to drive but not old enough to rent a car, shut up.  You have nothing to say.

Curmudgeon out.

Happy boring happerton

        I’m up on the downside of life.  

        It’s not as bad as it sounds, for the most part.

        Let me expand in a paragraph more than a single sentence.  Because let’s be honest, that’s a pretty generic and boring way to make a point.  I’m not depressed as a person.  I have been accused of being depressing, but that’s completely different.  I just am more interested in life’s valleys.  I think we can all agree that life has it’s ups and downs, and I simply find the downs to be more intellectually stimulating.  

        I’m willing to wager that I’m not in the minority; most people fall into this category to varying degrees.  If you’ve ever read a sad story or watched a movie where the hero dies, you know what I mean.  Most entertainment drama utilizes the downside.  A character dies, or fights for redemption, any revenge story, etc.

        Being happy is actually pretty boring.  Ever notice how every love story ends at the “love” part?  There’s nothing left to tell.  Let’s say that your life is going well, what does that say about you?  Not much.  Let’s say your life isn’t going all that well, what does tell us?  Everything.

        Adversity defines who we are.  How you react to loss defines what kind of person you’re willing to be.  How you deal with a bad situation makes you a different person.  How you react to puppies?  Don’t care at all.  This is a good thing, if you look at it in the right light.

        It’s an opportunity.  The bad stuff is an opportunity to be somebody else, perhaps somebody better.  Maybe it just proves who you really are.  “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade” is an absurdly simplistic but nonetheless somewhat true phrase.  The person you are when life is easy is irrelevant.  We’re all pretty much the same in the good times.  Who you are when you need to be something better is far more interesting.  And if you don’t face that challenge well?  That tells us something too.  

In My Defense

     I’ve mentioned that I’ve been reading Young Adult fiction lately, which is probably surprising to anybody who has an inkling of who I am.  Let’s be honest here, I can be a pretty pretentious douche sometimes (usually.)  Though not with fiction, I can be supportive of any kind of fiction.  You want to have a magic sword?  Go for it.  The most beautiful woman of all time falls hopelessly in love with the fat nerd?  Fantastic.  Just beware my wrath if you’re overly optimistic about real life.  I enjoy lying for a purpose, I abhor lying to yourself on purpose.

        I’m not sure why I’ve been on such a Young Adult kick lately, other than I look at it as candy fiction.  It’s nice to be able to read a book in a day or two, and not have to wonder if there is deeper meaning.  There always is deeper meaning, but I think we give authors entirely too much credit.  If you describe someone’s hand as being a big paw, you are not necessarily trying to invoke the idea of the character as a bear.  It may just be a convenient way to say “big hand.”  But I digress (damn you English teachers for ruining books!)

        The other thing that I’ve been thinking about is the emotionality of the teenage characters.  We’re all pretty stupid growing up because we think our world is overly important.  Once I was listening to someone younger than me complain about some life experience and they got mad at me for telling them what was really going on.  Quite common: “you don’t know what it’s like.”  Yes I do.  And so does everybody else.  Life experiences do not separate people from one another, they bring us together.  We go through most of the same growing pains (similar enough for comparison anyway,) so we can relate.  I went through it, she went through it before me, he went through it before her, on and on through perpetuity.  An individual may be a unique little snowflake, but you’re still part of the pile of snow.

That’s all true, but it also unfair.  Let’s get back to being a teenager or writing from their point of view.  The reason they think what they are going through is deeper, stronger, or more important than it was for anybody else is because it is.  Experience dulls our sentimentality by teaching us to know better.  This is a good thing.  But firsts are still more important at the time.  Your first kiss is a big deal, and also probably bad.  Your first concert is a big deal, and again, probably bad.  So when an actual person (or fictional person) goes through these things, they are feeling it stronger than we remember.  Time is a game changer, and dangerous in its subtlety.

I think that’s why I am enjoying reading these stories, because it harkens to the days when everything was more important.  I certainly don’t want to be as naive ever again, I still have plenty of that to sort through.  However, looking back on the idea of that time, being an emotional black hole, is a bit refreshing.  Because things are a bigger deal the first time and it’s important to remember that.  It gives the fiction a hyperbolic quality that real life (fortunately) no longer has.

And that’s my defense for being a wuss.

Fixing "The Sexy"

      What’s the deal with married women wanting to fix me?  I mean, I would understand if the single ladies want to spruce me up to get some more sexiness into their lives.  But that’s pretty uncommon, oddly.  The only thing these women have in common is being married.  Some are happy-ish marriages (my highest compliment,) others unhappy-ish (the mean.)  Some are young wives, some are a bit older.  But for some reason married women have this absurd compulsion to fix me.

        Perhaps the oddest of the oddities is that there really isn’t that much wrong with me.  Relative to the population I’m actually only moderately maladjusted.  I’m certainly not some puppy at their laps looking for attention.  You would think that they were still trying to fix their husbands.  I thought that was ⅔ of the reason to get married, so he can’t get away while you work.

        Before the XX’s get mad at me, yes, women have this odd compulsion to fix their man.  Everyone knows that single women look to the formula:  (Asshole Quotient)2 + (Fixability Ratio) + (Finances) + (Vanity) - (Daddy Issues)3 = Datability/Marriage Material.  This is fine, illogical and idiotic, but fine.  It’s the fact that women who are not pursuing the sexy are still trying to fix me.  I mean, damn it.

There are a few techniques out there, but I think my favorite is : You’re really not like you are.  Now, I’m no grammarian, but that just seems off to me.  In my fruitless queries, I’ve learned that the fact that I act a certain way (and have always acted that way) is nonetheless irrelevant to the person I actually am.  Let me give you a different context for an example.  If I wore t-shirts everyday, and said that I like wearing t-shirts, you can disregard my history to say that really deep down I’m a button up kind of cat.  It’s the estrogen version of “if it walks like a duck...” i.e. the exact opposite.  I just have to find someone/something special and it’ll turn me all around.  Apparently my personality is just play-acting and doesn’t count.  And if that’s the case, I’m not going to apologize about anything anymore because my whole life is apparently a trial run.  I like that part.

There’s no moral to this story because, well, it’s not really a story.  You should have noticed that the lack of characters and plot points usually indicates no story.  But by all means wives of the world, feel free to plot my ascension.  Just leave me out of it.

And people wonder why I’m single.

Devastation

So I’ve read a couple books in a row that dealt with death.  And not only death, but death of fairly young people.  I know that sounds like a bit of a downer, and I suppose it is.  But I’ve always like the downer mood, because I’m good at it.  Most people don’t think of that as impressive, but how many people do you know who are good at it?

        Anyway, it got me thinking about devastation.  True devastation, the one thing that is incomparable to all other things.  If there is one situation from which you could forgive anything, what would it be?  Is there any kind of tragedy that excuses a lifetime of poor behavior?  Are there a few?  I can only think of one.

        I think the death of a child is the only truly devastating thing that can happen where I would excuse all future behavior.  You want to be a drunk?  Go for it.  Mean spirited and cruel?  Yeah, I get it.  But I need to clarify here a bit, because most parents think of the offspring as their child.  But for this situation I’m actually referring to a child.

        The books I recently read (John Green’s A Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska [YA fiction]) were focused on the unfortunate deaths of teenagers.  For me that doesn’t count.  The death of a teenager is epically tragic, but that’s the death of a full person.  The death of an adult child even more so.  On the opposite end of the spectrum, the death of an infant doesn’t count here either.  When you’re still translating a belch into a word, it’s not a person yet.  It’s the miraculous beginning of a person, but it’s not formed yet.

        The only truly devastating thing I can think of is the death of a child who is becoming a person.  Not only is it the death of someone who you don’t fully know yet (that happens all the time,) but it’s the death of someone who doesn’t fully know themselves yet.  At a certain point, and probably younger than we’d like to believe, we are who we are.  Our experiences will mold us, but we’re a full person.  But in that 4-10ish range, those parts of us are growing.  The evolution process during this time is astounding.   Losing your own child when you are just beginning to know who they are is the most soul ravaging thing that I can think of.

        I don’t want to make light of other kinds of tragedies, death or otherwise.  But to me, this is the only situation with a blank check on my sympathies.  I don’t expect you to be okay, and to a certain extent I don’t want you to be okay.  If you lose a friend or lover or family member, you have memories of them to fall back on.  The death of a small child only results in memories of what might of been.  It’s difficult to express how appalling I find it.

Why?

     “Why?” is an important question.  It is quite possibly the important question.  I could argue that it is quite likely that the key to human civilization is our ability to ask “why.”

        “Why” is the beginning of “how.”  Why do these berries grow here?  How can I grow them there?  That’s the power of “why,” without it humankind would still be wondering around aimlessly.  Or perhaps extinct from our absurd gestation cycle and ungodly worthlessness as newborns.  But “why” has saved us from the darkness, and we have flourished and called it good.

        But “why” is not done with it’s awesomeness, not by a long shot!  “Why” is the question of kings and queens, philosophers, poets, and priests!  Whether it’s your God, gods, or spirituality you refuse to name, “why” is the name of the game.  If you live with 1st world problems, the question of “why” becomes the future.  First it brought us out of the darkness, and now it will move us into the light!

        The question is immortal.  If you contemplate ‘why?” you are working with Plato and Aristotle, Jung and Kant, Peter and Buddha...  It’s the eternal question.

        And the answer, of course, is “why not?”  A little disappointing, I’ll admit.

Win-Win

     Do you ever wonder about what’s wrong with you? And I don’t mean to insinuate that something is wrong with you. I mean to clearly say that there is something wrong with you. I’m astounded by the sheer volume of things wrong with. Welcome to the club.

      Don’t worry, there are also things that aren’t wrong with you, perhaps even right with you.

      Well, I have been known for self-reflective moments and on occasion do contemplate my faults. I have a goodly number, many of which involve self-. Self-destructive, self-aggrandizing, self-ish, serf-ish, and so on. But none of those have caught my attention recently. Maybe I’m just getting older and miss having potential, but I think my biggest fault is that I hate to lose.

      That’s true and misleading, because I do hate to lose, but not because I hate it. I’m afraid to lose, and I hate being scared. I prefer hate to fear, I’ve always found it to be more useful.

      Let’s get one thing out of the way; of course I like to win. Everybody likes winning, and many people love it. I don’t love winning, but it does give temporary relief. Once upon a time I was a real bad sport about losing. I’d whine when my grandmother was kicking my rear in a board game until she finally allowed me to win. Turns out my stubbornness at age 4 was an adversary to be reckoned with. I’m no longer that bad. I’m never mad at other people for winning, I’m simply mad at myself for losing. Being that I’m no longer 4, bitching doesn’t seem to help anymore.

      I hate bitching.

      I’d like to say that I use my hatred of losing as motivation to succeed. Isn’t that the lie professional athletes tell before signing multi-million dollar contracts? It’s all about winning? Not for me, it’s only about not losing. Losing is the operative term, as it were. And the easiest way not to lose is not to play. And that’s the shame of it all, because the easy road is... well... easy. And I never lose.

It's my favorite

"NO" is probably my favorite word. Hell, it's my favourite word. Not just because I'm an asshole, which I am, but because you probably have a hard time saying it. Me? Nah, it's my default response. You? It's the most difficult thing to say. Yay me.