So the opportunity has presented itself for me to possibly live with a roommate next year, someone I sort of knew in college in that we had some very good common friends but didn't hang out much. Anyway, this move would be to a nicer, swanky part of town for me, high end apartment, new appliances, all that. It would also, at least for a year, put me in a life and location I'm not sure I'm comfortable with. I can afford it, but for some reason I reject it. I reject lots of things without reason.
Last night, after my maybe roommie and I looked at an apartment, we had dinner at another friends apartment. She lives in a very nice apartment in a very nice part of the city and has a very nice job doing consulting. From her bedroom and her deck she can see the bay. I could live within 2 minutes of the bay and a 20 minute walk from work. It could make me happy. I could also sleep on a foam mattress in Mexico and be happy. Or I could never be happy, really.
When I decided to move to San Francisco, my best friend in Philadelphia asked me point blank if i thought life/me/whatever my issues are would be different in San Francisco. I said no, but I had to try something. I have been here almost a year, and last night these two friends asked me the same thing: do I think moving to Mexico would resolve my issues. I said no, but I have to try something. Whether I move again or stay or wander or drift, there is something blocked inside me, or rather something blocking something else inside me, blocking happiness or comfort. I run more now than I ever have because it let's my mind go free. Otherwise, I have built up so many little walls and mazes in my mind I paralyze myself with overthink. Books and writing are my escape, but like the internet they are an isolated escape.
The question still remains: who am I? What makes me happy? And if it is isolation, or if it is working through whatever issues and being more social, or if it different hobbies, or whatever, how do I define that? I can't.
I was listening to I'm a Rock by Simon & Garfunkel and thought that's me. Is that song supposed to be ironic? My bible? A warning? It connected in a way that didn't make me comfortable, just like I felt lousy when I left the dinner yesterday.
At one point in my life I would have responded at some point in the open dinner conversation analysis of my life that being my friend means never questioning my life. I think being open to the discussion is a step for me, but it still sort of pissed me off. But they were trying to help, just like my friend back in Philadelphia was trying to help. I don't know how to accept help. My boss thinks I have trust issues at work. I have trust issues everywhere. I have lots of issues everywhere, rolling around my head like balls in bingo parlor, and I never scream bingo and win. Or have i won? What is winning? I realize at some level that winning in life and losing in life are both temporary and, ultimately, pointless. It's only life right? I have only one, but I don't know what to do with it, I am afraid of it and fascinated by it, but I treat like some abstraction I can think through and win rather something I need to experience by living. It's bizarre. I know somewhere inside me it's not right, but I also don't seem to be able to move on. Philadelphia, Mexico, Honduras, Boston, San Francisco, all wonderful places. It's not the place.
But I'm not sure really what it is, and quite frankly, I'm sort of tired of thinking about it. And whenever I have to explain myself, I sound like an ass. I don't think I'm an ass, but i sound like one. Maybe I don't need to change, maybe I just need better PR.
I need people. Or a person. I'm not picky.
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life. Show all posts
2008/07/10
2008/03/30
17 little gold fish
I haven't written much about my life in San Francisco, and I'm not exactly sure why that is. Partly it's because I was out a lot wandering the city, trying to get to know it. Partly it's because I was busy at work. Mostly I think it's because I was a lost a bit when I first got here. Not just lost in a new city, but lost personally, emotionally. I am about to complete my first six months here, six months into a one year work commitment, and I'm as lost as I have ever been, possibly even more so. I'm more inclined to retreat internally and isolate myself with books and music and just stop even trying to interact. About one year ago I decided my life needed a change. I had to change my job, my location, or both. I was hoping to find a better job in Philadelphia, but as that didn't appear to be happening I decided to change cities but not jobs. Minimize the risk, San Fran is a great town, all that.
In my heart, I think I realized that wasn't a real solution to the problem. I'm the problem. I don't mean that in nearly as negative a way as it comes out on typed so plainly and bluntly there, but it is me. Wherever I am, whatever I decide to do, I am stuck within the framework that is myself, my mind, my fears and repressions and anxieties. Also the things that make me happy. As recent transplants to San Francisco are quick to point, you are not different once you arrive in San Francisco, you just walk up more hills. I made that up, nobody says that. It's still true though.
Anyway, I think I have become even more afraid of groups and new people and less socially confident than I used to be, which is not good. I'm even considering joining a study on anxiety disorders/male shyness. I'm not sure I'm that shy, but I might be. I have also become angrier, more annoyed at my own limitations and my inability to figure out how to address them. I had a conversation a few months ago about how i used to be very competitive and intense and worked hard to move away from that because I didn't like myself like that. Recently, I tried to change that, let that drive and intensity work itself back into my life, little by little. I was hoping to control it by training for a small triathlon which I hoped would balance out the intensity in other parts of my life. It doesn't, and I can't. I don't want to be that person, yelling at coworkers and pushing people to complete I realize in the greater scheme is pretty meaningless.
It's a little interesting because this is what i would need to do, what i would need to do and be to be successful in a large company, how i couldn't be at 26 to get things done in a previous job. I'm more confident at work now and with my own ideas, but I don't want that life. More confident in work, the same or maybe even less so outside it. Instead, it makes me feel like an ass at my little joke company because nobody acts like that, which is a strength and weakness of the company. Recently, I decided to do a little deep searching and decided I need to find a job I can be passionate about, that if I go over the top with intensity or passion it's ok because it's for some greater good. I also realized I'm tired of business, refuse to work with the government as a lobbyist or some other DC bullshit, and want something that is new everyday. After breaking these down as my core principles, my only conclusion was to become a teacher.
I don't know if this will make me happy, and I'm not a big fan of returning to school to be honest. But if this gets me somewhere I want to go, I have to give it a try, right? My other idea was to bike to Tierra Del Fuego (or just around the country a bit), or drive across the country and just drift for a while. And maybe I will, I can do both once I know the ed school and start date.
I titled this 17 little gold fish in honor of Colonel Aureliano Bunedia from 100 Years of Solitude, who after power and war and everything in his life finds happiness in the solitary isolated confines of a workshop creating little goldfish, 17 at a time I think if I have the number correct, then starting over again, lost all day in his own work and world without real communication or interaction with larger world. Some of us are destined for solitude, and it's not a bad thing. It's comforting. How does this relate to being a teacher? Maybe teaching is my 17 gold fish, maybe doing something meaningful will give me that. If i can't sit in a little attic room and write for a living, maybe this will give me the internal calm to be happy, confident.
Maybe.
In my heart, I think I realized that wasn't a real solution to the problem. I'm the problem. I don't mean that in nearly as negative a way as it comes out on typed so plainly and bluntly there, but it is me. Wherever I am, whatever I decide to do, I am stuck within the framework that is myself, my mind, my fears and repressions and anxieties. Also the things that make me happy. As recent transplants to San Francisco are quick to point, you are not different once you arrive in San Francisco, you just walk up more hills. I made that up, nobody says that. It's still true though.
Anyway, I think I have become even more afraid of groups and new people and less socially confident than I used to be, which is not good. I'm even considering joining a study on anxiety disorders/male shyness. I'm not sure I'm that shy, but I might be. I have also become angrier, more annoyed at my own limitations and my inability to figure out how to address them. I had a conversation a few months ago about how i used to be very competitive and intense and worked hard to move away from that because I didn't like myself like that. Recently, I tried to change that, let that drive and intensity work itself back into my life, little by little. I was hoping to control it by training for a small triathlon which I hoped would balance out the intensity in other parts of my life. It doesn't, and I can't. I don't want to be that person, yelling at coworkers and pushing people to complete I realize in the greater scheme is pretty meaningless.
It's a little interesting because this is what i would need to do, what i would need to do and be to be successful in a large company, how i couldn't be at 26 to get things done in a previous job. I'm more confident at work now and with my own ideas, but I don't want that life. More confident in work, the same or maybe even less so outside it. Instead, it makes me feel like an ass at my little joke company because nobody acts like that, which is a strength and weakness of the company. Recently, I decided to do a little deep searching and decided I need to find a job I can be passionate about, that if I go over the top with intensity or passion it's ok because it's for some greater good. I also realized I'm tired of business, refuse to work with the government as a lobbyist or some other DC bullshit, and want something that is new everyday. After breaking these down as my core principles, my only conclusion was to become a teacher.
I don't know if this will make me happy, and I'm not a big fan of returning to school to be honest. But if this gets me somewhere I want to go, I have to give it a try, right? My other idea was to bike to Tierra Del Fuego (or just around the country a bit), or drive across the country and just drift for a while. And maybe I will, I can do both once I know the ed school and start date.
I titled this 17 little gold fish in honor of Colonel Aureliano Bunedia from 100 Years of Solitude, who after power and war and everything in his life finds happiness in the solitary isolated confines of a workshop creating little goldfish, 17 at a time I think if I have the number correct, then starting over again, lost all day in his own work and world without real communication or interaction with larger world. Some of us are destined for solitude, and it's not a bad thing. It's comforting. How does this relate to being a teacher? Maybe teaching is my 17 gold fish, maybe doing something meaningful will give me that. If i can't sit in a little attic room and write for a living, maybe this will give me the internal calm to be happy, confident.
Maybe.
2007/12/27
Coming home
There isn't any irony here, no humor. Just a fat girl walking around in a twinkies t-shirt. I'm back in the midwest.
I'm not sure Michigan is home any more, but I'm not sure any where has replaced it, either. Actually, I am sure no place has replaced it, I'm just not sure what to do or think about that. Does that sense of home and the associated sense of being, is that all I miss?
I'm not sure Michigan is home any more, but I'm not sure any where has replaced it, either. Actually, I am sure no place has replaced it, I'm just not sure what to do or think about that. Does that sense of home and the associated sense of being, is that all I miss?
2007/12/26
Sleeping through the wrong things
I'm alone in the office today and was thinking about things, and something occurred to me: I have fallen asleep at a travelling broadway production of Les Mis and the only opera I ever attended, fallen asleep on buses travelling through beautiful mountains and valleys in Honduras and Mexico, but I've managed to stay awake through some of the most mundane god awful boring bus trips and business meetings I have attended.
I have also, by design based on what was probably in retrospect a very poor decision when I was younger, emotionally slept through the greater portion of my adult life and am still trying to wake up.
I have also, by design based on what was probably in retrospect a very poor decision when I was younger, emotionally slept through the greater portion of my adult life and am still trying to wake up.
2007/12/07
America. Or maybe just Friday evening frustration
It has probably been said the art of a country defines it. I don't think I can name a single artist. Does that mean I cannot define America? Well, I don't think I can anymore. Recently, I have been wandering through the online archives of America, the internet and the newspapers and the blogs. I'm not talking about popular culture, which just doesn't interest me all that much, and I'm not talking about politics because that is a profession now not a public service. Politicians seek to maintain their power, not benefit America. Look at the war. Look at the farm bill. Look at almost anything a politician supports and you can almost always trace back their link to it, via former or future work (think lobbying money), constituency (think farm bill/gas mileage/minimum wages), or just plain old money (see pharmaceutical/big business lobby). The argument is to protect your constituency/money/future/power, but at what cost? These people aren't Americans. I don't respect anyone running for president. If you are a true nationalist, if you truly love America, you tell people what they don't want to hear even to your own future detriment for the future good of your country. Do you believe any of the candidates would do that? Maybe I will vote, but I am not passionate about any of them.
So what is America? There is a line from the poem America by Ginsberg where he says, "It occurs to me I am America. I am talking to myself again." It's a good poem, you should read it. This blog is really a conversation to myself. Or sometimes it is. More importantly, it is tonight. I seek America because I love America. It's my home, and that means something. I love my family because they mean something. I love my friends, my true friends, because I believe they will help me when I need them and I will help them when they need me. That's friendship, regardless of where I am or they are. I don't love the American dream though. Can I live in that dichotomy? I don't want to own a house. I don't want to be the richest man in my neighborhood. I truly believe I could be if I tried, but at what cost? When would I read? When would I drink coffee with my friends? Play tennis? Sit by the bay? Just say hello?
I found 2 things recently that just blew my mind. I realize America is a big country, and I really only understood that after living in a much smaller country. Not just smaller physically, but smaller in so many other ways I can't explain. It was damn near impossible to get around, but it still felt one big neighborhood sometimes.
The first item is this: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/06/fashion/06push.html?em&ex=1197176400&en=2ce83a2c57a58291&ei=5087%0A
This is what America has come to? The love of a man and women, which can be manifested in so many wonderful ways physically and emotionally and through action, often culminating in a child. Now, the child isn't the only culmination of that love? Really? You need a ring or earings or a bracelet or something to remind you of your children? Does that meaningless but possibly expensive materialistic item represent them somehow? What about your memories of them? Your love for them? I think ultimately if I found out my father gave my mother diamond earrings she loved when I was born, 2 earrings because I was the 2nd child, it would me hate them both. Did she carry me for that? Was I worth it? When she wears them and remembers me, is that the only time she loves or remembers me? She needs a physical representation of me to love me? It's hard enough becoming a person, won't this bullshit just complicate it more, make our children more materialistic and more neurotic and push us all over the cliff of craziness? I'm afraid of Americans. I'm afraid to go out sometimes, these are people I meet. I was at a birthday party yesterday for a girl I met once before who said her wedding ring should be 5 months salary! She said he could afford it. Sometimes that's not the point. I'll be honest I have a lot of things, maybe to many things. But I don't have everything I could have. That's not how you should define your life, is it? Who are we? Do I belong here? How do I fit in? It's a big country, but recently a lot of people feel like they are all the same...
So I found this mildly interesting and irritating. My problem with this op-ed piece, which means it is one persons opinion and he has an agenda to push latin. Fine. The issue with this is that there isn't any context. His issues seems to be the decline of rhetoric in this country, especially from our leaders. I agree, our political system is a joke, only nobody laughs except the rich and powerful. The author blames this on not studying Latin. Seriously? Is that the only thing that has changed in the last 50 years in our world? Is that even the most important thing? Let's say Hugo Chavez knew Latin? Would the author honor him? I agree the political process is broken, but is Latin really the major problem? And this is published in a major newspaper without a rebuttal. You don't like the NY Times? Fine, you are entitled. Give me a better source for news and ideas... That's the problem. People don't read. You don't have to read Latin to improve your oratory or build your vocabulary, you have to things that are well written. You have to think. You have to practice. You have to be willing to give yourself up to study and focus and self awareness and your own mind. Does that happen? If I studied TS Elliot and Joyce and Shakespeare for 2 years, don't you think my ability to speak in allusions and beautiful long sentences would increase? I could read Hamlet or the Bible and pick up something. If I read Marquez and Borges and McCarthy for 2 years, won't I be more creative? What the hell does Latin have to do with it? There are a lot of problems in America with focus (we focus on money but we don't focus on accountability for politicians and CEOs does not exist, we worship beauty not brains, we focus on short term goals/money/oil not long term sustainability -an old teacher was always amazed by a fact he threw out that native americans made decisions based on the 7th generation. It might have been only partially true, but it's certainly something no longer in the debate), but is studying Latin really that important?
Where do we go for knowledge? As a country, do we even collectively seek knowledge? I have decided the internet, which was supposed to bring this to everyone, is not the solution. It is an amazing start, but only if you can think. Why don't we teach people to think? Why don't we value people who can think? Why do we hate people smarter than us? I love them, and I hate them because I want to be smarter than them. I am not sure if I actually wrote this, but I had a very interesting conversation about competition and drive and how i intentionally turned that off in me. I said that competitiveness was killing me, Ihad to control it. Later, I realized I stopped competing athletically (mostly) to focus on competition of the mind. I love being smarter. I'm an ass maybe, but that's my thing. I don't think I'm arrogant - I'm a very gracious winner... That's just what gets me going, smart people who can teach me things.
I had a lot of problems in college, I struggled with who I was and where I was and what I wanted to study. A lot of people do. I don't always analyze things correctly, but at least college taught me to think, to analyze. As they say, I wouldn't give nothing for my journey now. Do you think a lot of Americans can say that?
So what is America? There is a line from the poem America by Ginsberg where he says, "It occurs to me I am America. I am talking to myself again." It's a good poem, you should read it. This blog is really a conversation to myself. Or sometimes it is. More importantly, it is tonight. I seek America because I love America. It's my home, and that means something. I love my family because they mean something. I love my friends, my true friends, because I believe they will help me when I need them and I will help them when they need me. That's friendship, regardless of where I am or they are. I don't love the American dream though. Can I live in that dichotomy? I don't want to own a house. I don't want to be the richest man in my neighborhood. I truly believe I could be if I tried, but at what cost? When would I read? When would I drink coffee with my friends? Play tennis? Sit by the bay? Just say hello?
I found 2 things recently that just blew my mind. I realize America is a big country, and I really only understood that after living in a much smaller country. Not just smaller physically, but smaller in so many other ways I can't explain. It was damn near impossible to get around, but it still felt one big neighborhood sometimes.
The first item is this: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/06/fashion/06push.html?em&ex=1197176400&en=2ce83a2c57a58291&ei=5087%0A
This is what America has come to? The love of a man and women, which can be manifested in so many wonderful ways physically and emotionally and through action, often culminating in a child. Now, the child isn't the only culmination of that love? Really? You need a ring or earings or a bracelet or something to remind you of your children? Does that meaningless but possibly expensive materialistic item represent them somehow? What about your memories of them? Your love for them? I think ultimately if I found out my father gave my mother diamond earrings she loved when I was born, 2 earrings because I was the 2nd child, it would me hate them both. Did she carry me for that? Was I worth it? When she wears them and remembers me, is that the only time she loves or remembers me? She needs a physical representation of me to love me? It's hard enough becoming a person, won't this bullshit just complicate it more, make our children more materialistic and more neurotic and push us all over the cliff of craziness? I'm afraid of Americans. I'm afraid to go out sometimes, these are people I meet. I was at a birthday party yesterday for a girl I met once before who said her wedding ring should be 5 months salary! She said he could afford it. Sometimes that's not the point. I'll be honest I have a lot of things, maybe to many things. But I don't have everything I could have. That's not how you should define your life, is it? Who are we? Do I belong here? How do I fit in? It's a big country, but recently a lot of people feel like they are all the same...
So I found this mildly interesting and irritating. My problem with this op-ed piece, which means it is one persons opinion and he has an agenda to push latin. Fine. The issue with this is that there isn't any context. His issues seems to be the decline of rhetoric in this country, especially from our leaders. I agree, our political system is a joke, only nobody laughs except the rich and powerful. The author blames this on not studying Latin. Seriously? Is that the only thing that has changed in the last 50 years in our world? Is that even the most important thing? Let's say Hugo Chavez knew Latin? Would the author honor him? I agree the political process is broken, but is Latin really the major problem? And this is published in a major newspaper without a rebuttal. You don't like the NY Times? Fine, you are entitled. Give me a better source for news and ideas... That's the problem. People don't read. You don't have to read Latin to improve your oratory or build your vocabulary, you have to things that are well written. You have to think. You have to practice. You have to be willing to give yourself up to study and focus and self awareness and your own mind. Does that happen? If I studied TS Elliot and Joyce and Shakespeare for 2 years, don't you think my ability to speak in allusions and beautiful long sentences would increase? I could read Hamlet or the Bible and pick up something. If I read Marquez and Borges and McCarthy for 2 years, won't I be more creative? What the hell does Latin have to do with it? There are a lot of problems in America with focus (we focus on money but we don't focus on accountability for politicians and CEOs does not exist, we worship beauty not brains, we focus on short term goals/money/oil not long term sustainability -an old teacher was always amazed by a fact he threw out that native americans made decisions based on the 7th generation. It might have been only partially true, but it's certainly something no longer in the debate), but is studying Latin really that important?
Where do we go for knowledge? As a country, do we even collectively seek knowledge? I have decided the internet, which was supposed to bring this to everyone, is not the solution. It is an amazing start, but only if you can think. Why don't we teach people to think? Why don't we value people who can think? Why do we hate people smarter than us? I love them, and I hate them because I want to be smarter than them. I am not sure if I actually wrote this, but I had a very interesting conversation about competition and drive and how i intentionally turned that off in me. I said that competitiveness was killing me, Ihad to control it. Later, I realized I stopped competing athletically (mostly) to focus on competition of the mind. I love being smarter. I'm an ass maybe, but that's my thing. I don't think I'm arrogant - I'm a very gracious winner... That's just what gets me going, smart people who can teach me things.
I had a lot of problems in college, I struggled with who I was and where I was and what I wanted to study. A lot of people do. I don't always analyze things correctly, but at least college taught me to think, to analyze. As they say, I wouldn't give nothing for my journey now. Do you think a lot of Americans can say that?
2007/12/01
Where are my background dancers?
Sometimes I sit alone in my room and I wonder what good is it? Maybe I should go to the cabaret? If only my life were a musical, so that when things like that happened someone would pop and start singing trite but catching musical numbers from the way back times, and constantly creating new songs for new periods of my life. What good is sitting alone in your room?
For the first real time since I moved to San Francisco, I feel like my life is coming together. I feel like i picked the wrong area to live in, that I settled for the first place I found in a decent neighborhood without really understanding what I was getting myself into. I was worried about finding an apartment in a single weekend. I should have lived in a furnished apartment for 1 month and then found a place to live. I should have lived near Mission. Except for 1 dinner out in my neighborhood with a friend and 2 of their friends, everything I have done or want to do is in Mission. (Cue slow music as I skip through my neighborhood, the shops and sushi restaurants as the fog rolls in. I sing about the local shops, the coffee, the Presidio and the golden gate. It's great, but it isn't me. I hold that note for a while, then the fog clears, the music swells, changes - probably something Latin infused, think Mingus' Tijuana Moods - and then I'm dancing through the streets of Mission, picking up fresh fruit, high fiving hipsters, eating mondongo and pupusas in a taqueria, hiding out in a dive bar smoking in the secret back rooms flouting the law like a renegade as the music slows, I walk out the back door, fog again, the ballad returns, the song ends.)
Regardless, I'm here in my neighborhood. Scene 2 begins. It involves a boy growing comfortable where he is at. So far, it is sort of making some friends but more of finding known friends in the area and moving out one of my best friends from somewhere else. Life begins to hit a routine. The music enforces this, maybe something semi-mechanical that repeats and repeats as my backup dancers troll our behind me doing activities representative of our daily repetition. They lay down, wake up, eat, commute, work, eat, work, eat, watch TV, sleep. That's a routine, will that become my routine? With friends, you begin to develop a routine. In one of those odd contrasts of our language, your routine might be not having a routine that is repeated but constantly avoiding routine can be your routine... I can't explain what i mean. As the dancers represent routine, I wander in and out of their routine, maybe this is modern dance actually, trying not to fall prey to the routine, trying to be me whoever that is, finding things to do besides the same bars and the same thoughts and the same experiences. Hit all the major artistic shows, return to the routing represented by the dancers, fight my way out and do something else original, fall back into the routine. The music is alternately repetitive and industrial and original and creative, depending on where I am in the process. You get the idea, as the 2nd scene fades to black.
Scene 3? Remains to be seen... In fact, scene two remains to be written. Right now, it's nothing but a fear or a thought or an intuition.
One of my best friends moved to the Bay Area, which is how we say we say San Francisco and the lesser areas nearby when we pretend that Oakland and those areas matter because in San Fran we have to pretend to give a shit about everything (which gets pretty damn annoying!). He and his wife stayed with me for less than a week, they found an apartment, and today we went shopping so they could have some basic furniture. It was nice living with them for a while, and makes me wonder if maybe I shouldn't consider roommates next time I move. I wonder what the music would be for that? Happiness, confusion, frustration, anger, joy - just like any friendship. Maybe that is scene 4, postscript, to be written in 1 year? Anyway, I was sad to leave them at their apartment today, but I was excited that largely because of them and 2 other reconnected local peace corps friends, I feel like my life is coming together. I now have 1 great friend to call in the area, to visit, to sit around and talk to and wander and drink coffee and daydream and wonder and just be myself with. That can develop, but it takes time. We already have time. I decided to move all my friends out here. The music swells, the plane lands and everyone I know dances off! We lock arms! We do the Rockette's kicks! We swim with the sea lions and hang off cable cars! We laugh and drink local beers! The music is happy, we are all happy, and we all live happily ever after. Just like in all the great musicals (except west side story maybe...).
For the first real time since I moved to San Francisco, I feel like my life is coming together. I feel like i picked the wrong area to live in, that I settled for the first place I found in a decent neighborhood without really understanding what I was getting myself into. I was worried about finding an apartment in a single weekend. I should have lived in a furnished apartment for 1 month and then found a place to live. I should have lived near Mission. Except for 1 dinner out in my neighborhood with a friend and 2 of their friends, everything I have done or want to do is in Mission. (Cue slow music as I skip through my neighborhood, the shops and sushi restaurants as the fog rolls in. I sing about the local shops, the coffee, the Presidio and the golden gate. It's great, but it isn't me. I hold that note for a while, then the fog clears, the music swells, changes - probably something Latin infused, think Mingus' Tijuana Moods - and then I'm dancing through the streets of Mission, picking up fresh fruit, high fiving hipsters, eating mondongo and pupusas in a taqueria, hiding out in a dive bar smoking in the secret back rooms flouting the law like a renegade as the music slows, I walk out the back door, fog again, the ballad returns, the song ends.)
Regardless, I'm here in my neighborhood. Scene 2 begins. It involves a boy growing comfortable where he is at. So far, it is sort of making some friends but more of finding known friends in the area and moving out one of my best friends from somewhere else. Life begins to hit a routine. The music enforces this, maybe something semi-mechanical that repeats and repeats as my backup dancers troll our behind me doing activities representative of our daily repetition. They lay down, wake up, eat, commute, work, eat, work, eat, watch TV, sleep. That's a routine, will that become my routine? With friends, you begin to develop a routine. In one of those odd contrasts of our language, your routine might be not having a routine that is repeated but constantly avoiding routine can be your routine... I can't explain what i mean. As the dancers represent routine, I wander in and out of their routine, maybe this is modern dance actually, trying not to fall prey to the routine, trying to be me whoever that is, finding things to do besides the same bars and the same thoughts and the same experiences. Hit all the major artistic shows, return to the routing represented by the dancers, fight my way out and do something else original, fall back into the routine. The music is alternately repetitive and industrial and original and creative, depending on where I am in the process. You get the idea, as the 2nd scene fades to black.
Scene 3? Remains to be seen... In fact, scene two remains to be written. Right now, it's nothing but a fear or a thought or an intuition.
One of my best friends moved to the Bay Area, which is how we say we say San Francisco and the lesser areas nearby when we pretend that Oakland and those areas matter because in San Fran we have to pretend to give a shit about everything (which gets pretty damn annoying!). He and his wife stayed with me for less than a week, they found an apartment, and today we went shopping so they could have some basic furniture. It was nice living with them for a while, and makes me wonder if maybe I shouldn't consider roommates next time I move. I wonder what the music would be for that? Happiness, confusion, frustration, anger, joy - just like any friendship. Maybe that is scene 4, postscript, to be written in 1 year? Anyway, I was sad to leave them at their apartment today, but I was excited that largely because of them and 2 other reconnected local peace corps friends, I feel like my life is coming together. I now have 1 great friend to call in the area, to visit, to sit around and talk to and wander and drink coffee and daydream and wonder and just be myself with. That can develop, but it takes time. We already have time. I decided to move all my friends out here. The music swells, the plane lands and everyone I know dances off! We lock arms! We do the Rockette's kicks! We swim with the sea lions and hang off cable cars! We laugh and drink local beers! The music is happy, we are all happy, and we all live happily ever after. Just like in all the great musicals (except west side story maybe...).
2007/11/27
My first real San Francisco blog
San Francisco. I'm not quite sure yet what I think of this fair city. In the nearly 2 months since I have moved, I have passed through most of the emotions you would expect. I've been excited about meeting people, seeing new areas, rebuilding my life. I've been horrified that I have to meet new friends, see new areas, rebuild my life. Sometimes I look around the bus and wonder what the hell I was thinking! I become annoyed wandering unfamiliar streets and wonder why I left something so familiar. But I'm here. I made the decision, a very difficult decision, to leave, to start over, to try again, and now I must follow through with it at least for a little while. A lot has happened in only 7 weeks, and I won't get into it all tonight. It's the 6th phase of my life really. I grew up in the same small town, college, Philly, Peace Corps, then Philly again. But Philly was different and I was different and I only really reconnected with one friend from before. That happens. Friendships die sometime. It's sad. It's true. Life is strange like that, seems like it's always testing us and when life isn't testing me, I feel like I must test myself. Move. Change. Try something new. Meet someone who challenges me. Go somewhere that challenges me. San Francisco.
So I have passed through excitement, loneliness, confusion, and just general wonderment at how hard it is to build a life again in a new place. College was easy to meet people, we were from everywhere trying to do everything. Mostly fit in, pass classes, figure out who we were. When I first moved to Philly, I was fresh out of college (you could smell the new on me, I remember what it was like when we hired recent college grads, like NY in summer. ugh.). That company was 70 people, mostly my age, and growing. I met my friend who was the only friend I reconnected during Philly Take 2. I drank a lot. I went out. I put on weight. I started smoking. I fell in love. I think. I was a mess. I had to leave. Mexico. Honduras.
Peace corps was easy too. The only gringos in town, 50 of us in training for 3 months, the first time I played and enjoyed basketball in over 4 years. It was great. Then my site, isolation, new friendships, language, heat so much heat, frustration, road trips in the back of pickup trucks. I remember the views, but I missed some of the old friendships. I went back to Philly. It wasn't the same. You can't go home, people say that. It's probably true, but home always changes. I still call where I grew up home, and I haven't lived there for 13 years. In a few years, I will have lived away from there longer than there, but will I have someplace else to call home? Right now, I doubt it, but I'm still struggling sometimes in San Fran adjusting, meeting people. 3 people have quit from my company since I moved. I initially resigned, then I agreed to transfer. Did I make a mistake? But it doesn't matter, because I'm here now right and I need to just act on that. I still over analyze. I always will, but there are a few little things coming back to me that I had forgotten a long time ago. Competitiveness. Running outside, and challenging myself to run up the hills, make it farther, make it faster. It's been a long time since I allowed myself to be competitive. Can you be competitive and not driven? Vice versa? I have started to think again, meaning my mind is freeing itself up from it's own labyrinth's, finding it's way out. I'm becoming comfortable here. I even started blogging again. Is that a metaconceptual reference to this post? Psuedointellectually speaking theorizations. It is all coming back to me.
In my mind, two things are happening. One is this trickle of competitiveness. I tried to kill that once, a long time ago. Can you really change who you are? That's worth a long blog in itself. The other is passion. I tried to kill that too. College. Heartbreak. Stoicism seemed easier. In a way, it is. Killing passion helped me control my competitiveness. It killed me inside though. I have stated before 100 Years of Solitude is my favorite novel, and it is, but I've never really stated why. It's one character, the colonel, and the description of his isolation. Everyone in the novel is isolated, but my isolation is his. He's not a happy positive character you necessarily want to realize you connect with. I don't know yet what that means for me, or what the decisions of my youth have done to me or if I can fix them. You can't go home again right? Am I just fucked?
I'm not. I'm older, wiser. I understand more now, I just need to work myself through not who I was, but who I can become. Forget my old shyness and quirks. I have new quirks, embrace those. Be who I am now, not who I was. Now I am a 31 year old new citizen of San Francisco. I may not be here in 1 year, but for now, I need to embrace it. And I need to embrace me, and continue to try to understand me. It's hard for me, I can get so lost in the self analysis I abstract myself. My sister once yelled at me when I described my friends because I made them into characters in my world view, not people. Quirky. We all create our own drama.
I think it was Ghandi who said something like Be the change you want to see in the world. I try. I want the world to be fun and whimsical, so I try to be. The world isn't. Neither am I always. Sometimes. So I'm a work in progress. San Francisco and me, we're a work in process too. I'm more comfortable though, now, after a few months. I still get lonely, I still fight myself on some things, but I'm better. I am anxious for the new year to come and pass, to get by that hump, but then I'll be okay. I'll be blogging more for my handful of dedicated readers. And you must be dedicated to read this far, but it's been building up in my head for a long time. It's therapy for me to write, has been since college, whether it is something like this, or a story, or whatever. We all have demons. Or anybody interesting has demons, although that's not always a good thing.
That's enough. My first real San Francisco blog ends now. Maybe tomorrow I'll be more whimsical? Demon-letting is nice, but whimsy is more fun.
So I have passed through excitement, loneliness, confusion, and just general wonderment at how hard it is to build a life again in a new place. College was easy to meet people, we were from everywhere trying to do everything. Mostly fit in, pass classes, figure out who we were. When I first moved to Philly, I was fresh out of college (you could smell the new on me, I remember what it was like when we hired recent college grads, like NY in summer. ugh.). That company was 70 people, mostly my age, and growing. I met my friend who was the only friend I reconnected during Philly Take 2. I drank a lot. I went out. I put on weight. I started smoking. I fell in love. I think. I was a mess. I had to leave. Mexico. Honduras.
Peace corps was easy too. The only gringos in town, 50 of us in training for 3 months, the first time I played and enjoyed basketball in over 4 years. It was great. Then my site, isolation, new friendships, language, heat so much heat, frustration, road trips in the back of pickup trucks. I remember the views, but I missed some of the old friendships. I went back to Philly. It wasn't the same. You can't go home, people say that. It's probably true, but home always changes. I still call where I grew up home, and I haven't lived there for 13 years. In a few years, I will have lived away from there longer than there, but will I have someplace else to call home? Right now, I doubt it, but I'm still struggling sometimes in San Fran adjusting, meeting people. 3 people have quit from my company since I moved. I initially resigned, then I agreed to transfer. Did I make a mistake? But it doesn't matter, because I'm here now right and I need to just act on that. I still over analyze. I always will, but there are a few little things coming back to me that I had forgotten a long time ago. Competitiveness. Running outside, and challenging myself to run up the hills, make it farther, make it faster. It's been a long time since I allowed myself to be competitive. Can you be competitive and not driven? Vice versa? I have started to think again, meaning my mind is freeing itself up from it's own labyrinth's, finding it's way out. I'm becoming comfortable here. I even started blogging again. Is that a metaconceptual reference to this post? Psuedointellectually speaking theorizations. It is all coming back to me.
In my mind, two things are happening. One is this trickle of competitiveness. I tried to kill that once, a long time ago. Can you really change who you are? That's worth a long blog in itself. The other is passion. I tried to kill that too. College. Heartbreak. Stoicism seemed easier. In a way, it is. Killing passion helped me control my competitiveness. It killed me inside though. I have stated before 100 Years of Solitude is my favorite novel, and it is, but I've never really stated why. It's one character, the colonel, and the description of his isolation. Everyone in the novel is isolated, but my isolation is his. He's not a happy positive character you necessarily want to realize you connect with. I don't know yet what that means for me, or what the decisions of my youth have done to me or if I can fix them. You can't go home again right? Am I just fucked?
I'm not. I'm older, wiser. I understand more now, I just need to work myself through not who I was, but who I can become. Forget my old shyness and quirks. I have new quirks, embrace those. Be who I am now, not who I was. Now I am a 31 year old new citizen of San Francisco. I may not be here in 1 year, but for now, I need to embrace it. And I need to embrace me, and continue to try to understand me. It's hard for me, I can get so lost in the self analysis I abstract myself. My sister once yelled at me when I described my friends because I made them into characters in my world view, not people. Quirky. We all create our own drama.
I think it was Ghandi who said something like Be the change you want to see in the world. I try. I want the world to be fun and whimsical, so I try to be. The world isn't. Neither am I always. Sometimes. So I'm a work in progress. San Francisco and me, we're a work in process too. I'm more comfortable though, now, after a few months. I still get lonely, I still fight myself on some things, but I'm better. I am anxious for the new year to come and pass, to get by that hump, but then I'll be okay. I'll be blogging more for my handful of dedicated readers. And you must be dedicated to read this far, but it's been building up in my head for a long time. It's therapy for me to write, has been since college, whether it is something like this, or a story, or whatever. We all have demons. Or anybody interesting has demons, although that's not always a good thing.
That's enough. My first real San Francisco blog ends now. Maybe tomorrow I'll be more whimsical? Demon-letting is nice, but whimsy is more fun.
2007/08/26
All in
There is a line in an early Bob Dylan song, I think from a song called One To Many Mornings from his Freewheelin album, that goes, "There's a restless hungry feeling that don't mean noone no good...". That's what I feel in my life now, and that is what I have felt for some time, for some number of years maybe. I didn't feel it as much in Peace Corps until the end, but I have felt it fairly constantly otherwise. I don't know what it is, and I don't know how to get rid of it. To be quite honest, I'm not even sure it's bad. It's just not what I want to feel.
I'm moving to san francisco, that's where that came from. I'm moving in about 1 month. It just feels like it's time for me to try something else. I'm all in, no plan B on this one. Hopefully my job improves with new projects and I begin to see some sort of meaning in this little shared adventure we all live. I don't know what happens if I don't though. It's like one of my coworkers told another coworker, who of course told me, "he's never happy so it doesn't matter if he likes it or not" or something like that. He's right in a way too, and I don't know what to do about it. Keep running, maybe, even if you don't know from what. Most likely it's myself, and you can't ever run to far from that, and you can't really change who you are either. Not without a lot of effort, anyway, and not things that are you at the core. I don't think I really want to change those any how, which makes this all a bit stranger, perhaps a bit more existential or some other term, and ultimately, maybe I'm just bi-polar. Who knows.
I was taking a walk a bit ago to calm myself down after watching one heckuva good golf match and I got to thinking about some of my other travels. There was a situation down in Mexico that pops in my head from time to time, then flutters away, but always comes back at times like this. I was about 8 weeks into a 10 week trip, just backpacking around and taking some buses, hit the beach, etc. I was in a town called Zacatecas for a few days, an old silver town where they still make silver and sell it to wanderers and tourists and anyone else who will pay. The town is in the mountains, as all silver towns are I suppose, and I was staying in a hostel about 4 blocks up from the church. It was a nice town, where I met an old vietnam vet who kept getting me drunk on rum as he smoked something or other and told me stories. His wife used to be a squatter in seattle before that was trendy, and they were just winding through mexico themselves before heading back to their cottage in the oregan woods. He was probably crazy, and she was quiet and went to bed early so we could go out.
Anyway, he's not the guy I was talking about. The guy I met, the one who bobs and weaves into and out of my memory, was another man. We ended up in the same room in the hostel and had spoken a few times but nothing significant. One day, I'm reading what I think was a more or less true story by Hemingway where he is on an african safari. I was in the lounge in a chair, and he comes by drinking a beer and says, "Hemingway! I didn't think anyone read Hemingway anymore." I said I didn't know if other people did much, and I didn't a lot but I liked what I had read.
He gave me one of those weird looks and said it was his birthday. I wished him a happy birthday and asked if we were going out later to celebrate. He looked at his beer and said, "I used to be an alcoholic. I haven't had a drink in over 13 years. I think it's time for me to head back out." And he packed up and got ready to leave. As he was preparing to leave, I finished the book and offered it to him. He took it gladly and thanked me, and we sort of shared a moment. It was one of those moments when you wonder if it means anything, and think it has too at least for me, and then he disappears forever and you wonder about things. I don't know about him, but it must have meant something to me because I remember all these years later and I can still the look in his eyes as he walked out. I can't describe it, but I can still see it. Even more, I can still feel sometimes, mostly when I feel like this
When he said it was time for him to head out again, I pictured him just walking out of town and living in the mountains of mexico, walking in the desert, running from whatever it was made him that way. I still picture him there in Mexico, wandering and running, maybe reading here and there. It probably wasn't anything, but I felt like he had that restless feeling too. I feel like that's how he coped, he just took off and when he started to come back in, he took off again.
Coincidentally, this month marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of On the Road, which is arguably the greatest book for capturing that feeling and how the author dealt with it. Say what you want about that book creating an entire subculture of annoying hipsters reading poetry to jazz music, it does have some monumental writing in it. It's a little hit and miss sure, but so is life right and don't you think that is what Kerouac was trying to grab in that book anyway?
So to get back to the point at hand - I'm moving. I either won't be blogging much or i'll be blogging a lot, depending on how I feel. All in baby, all in.
I'm moving to san francisco, that's where that came from. I'm moving in about 1 month. It just feels like it's time for me to try something else. I'm all in, no plan B on this one. Hopefully my job improves with new projects and I begin to see some sort of meaning in this little shared adventure we all live. I don't know what happens if I don't though. It's like one of my coworkers told another coworker, who of course told me, "he's never happy so it doesn't matter if he likes it or not" or something like that. He's right in a way too, and I don't know what to do about it. Keep running, maybe, even if you don't know from what. Most likely it's myself, and you can't ever run to far from that, and you can't really change who you are either. Not without a lot of effort, anyway, and not things that are you at the core. I don't think I really want to change those any how, which makes this all a bit stranger, perhaps a bit more existential or some other term, and ultimately, maybe I'm just bi-polar. Who knows.
I was taking a walk a bit ago to calm myself down after watching one heckuva good golf match and I got to thinking about some of my other travels. There was a situation down in Mexico that pops in my head from time to time, then flutters away, but always comes back at times like this. I was about 8 weeks into a 10 week trip, just backpacking around and taking some buses, hit the beach, etc. I was in a town called Zacatecas for a few days, an old silver town where they still make silver and sell it to wanderers and tourists and anyone else who will pay. The town is in the mountains, as all silver towns are I suppose, and I was staying in a hostel about 4 blocks up from the church. It was a nice town, where I met an old vietnam vet who kept getting me drunk on rum as he smoked something or other and told me stories. His wife used to be a squatter in seattle before that was trendy, and they were just winding through mexico themselves before heading back to their cottage in the oregan woods. He was probably crazy, and she was quiet and went to bed early so we could go out.
Anyway, he's not the guy I was talking about. The guy I met, the one who bobs and weaves into and out of my memory, was another man. We ended up in the same room in the hostel and had spoken a few times but nothing significant. One day, I'm reading what I think was a more or less true story by Hemingway where he is on an african safari. I was in the lounge in a chair, and he comes by drinking a beer and says, "Hemingway! I didn't think anyone read Hemingway anymore." I said I didn't know if other people did much, and I didn't a lot but I liked what I had read.
He gave me one of those weird looks and said it was his birthday. I wished him a happy birthday and asked if we were going out later to celebrate. He looked at his beer and said, "I used to be an alcoholic. I haven't had a drink in over 13 years. I think it's time for me to head back out." And he packed up and got ready to leave. As he was preparing to leave, I finished the book and offered it to him. He took it gladly and thanked me, and we sort of shared a moment. It was one of those moments when you wonder if it means anything, and think it has too at least for me, and then he disappears forever and you wonder about things. I don't know about him, but it must have meant something to me because I remember all these years later and I can still the look in his eyes as he walked out. I can't describe it, but I can still see it. Even more, I can still feel sometimes, mostly when I feel like this
When he said it was time for him to head out again, I pictured him just walking out of town and living in the mountains of mexico, walking in the desert, running from whatever it was made him that way. I still picture him there in Mexico, wandering and running, maybe reading here and there. It probably wasn't anything, but I felt like he had that restless feeling too. I feel like that's how he coped, he just took off and when he started to come back in, he took off again.
Coincidentally, this month marks the 50th anniversary of the publication of On the Road, which is arguably the greatest book for capturing that feeling and how the author dealt with it. Say what you want about that book creating an entire subculture of annoying hipsters reading poetry to jazz music, it does have some monumental writing in it. It's a little hit and miss sure, but so is life right and don't you think that is what Kerouac was trying to grab in that book anyway?
So to get back to the point at hand - I'm moving. I either won't be blogging much or i'll be blogging a lot, depending on how I feel. All in baby, all in.
2007/08/04
Decisions
I have come to an intriguing point in my life, which I believe I mentioned in a recent blog. My current company, which I'm not particularly fond of, has offered to relocate me from Philadelphia to San Francisco. Although I am not truly engaged in the company, it's a good opportunity. Staying with the same company lowers my risk because I at least know the corporate issues. The move potentially gives me an opportunity to do more consulting, which they won't currently let me do for a variety of reasons. After 2 years at the company, I have not really gained much actual experience and according to my boss I am probably still 2 years away from being promoted.
However, I have another opportunity to possibly get a job offer in London. This would be a new company, a very large company, a new city, a new country, and work that I might not be particularly interested in as it is basically the same job I left 4 years ago. However, moving to London is another great opportunity, a once in a lifetime sort of thing, and I would probably manage people again, which is a career step I do not have at my current company. I would also have to wear suits to work, which I find a bit quaint and old fashioned. To pursue this job, I probably need to turn down San Francisco and if, after the interview process, I don't get a job offer I won't have anything because I already committed to leaving my company or moving to san fran at the end of September.
I'm in a bit of a pickle, and not sure where I'm going. I have been weighing the pros and cons of both, including risks, career development, corporate climates, and just interest in the jobs and lifestyles. I never had a strong desire to live in London, but I would love to be closer to Europe. However, it is farther from family and friends, even more so than San Fran I think. If not further, it is a larger trip.
I realized I have a very different view of where my current company is going than the current management team. The CEO said at a lunch the other day our director of development was doing an excellent job. Our last software was so bad sales wouldn't even demo it, and the latest release was delayed 1 month because of issues. I found out about the 1 month delay, and keep in mind it's a 50 person company which should facilitate communication, the day it was supposed to be released. That type of delay doesn't pop up, it is known. So the release came out within 4 days of the delayed timeline, and my boss sent a corporate email about how great it is and how great the team did and how great the software is. I have seen the software, it is not getting better. Anyway, I am going to ask him if I can run a project where I can blow off timelines, not communicate them, and still be congratulated and have everyone think I'm doing a great job. The problem is nobody in my company is accounatable for anything, which is odd because accountability is probably 1/4 of what we tell clients they need to build into their management framework.
Recently, I have been unloading all my projects, per my boss' orders, so I could work on our online training classes, which is a new product we are releasing. Basically, I am responsible for writing all the consulting methodology courses for the portal, even though I am not permitted to give them. We have a consulting team that is generally useless and "to busy" to be involved. I sent an email a few weeks back asking for input on a specific area beyond our 1 powerpoint. Our CEO said I could talk to him if i had questions on the presentation, 1 guys said we should brainstorm, and none of the other 4 people responded. To busy to be involved, fine. Anyway, I figured our largest client must have had to do this at some point so I called one of our contacts for advice or any information they had. It turns out they did a presentation on exactly this at our last conference, which I didn't attend because I was almost on paternity leave. All of the people I asked for advice did attend the conference, but nobody mentioned to check those presentations. Nobody mentioned anything really. I am only considering moving to San Fran because it's a lower risk option than finding a job anywhere else. Now that london could happen, San Fran is much less appealing. But it's still low risk, and appealing in that way.
The decision is open. I'll ask around on Monday and see what people say. I am scheduled to look for an apartment in sf next weekend, so this week is go-no go. Will I go? The more I consider it, the worse it seems...
However, I have another opportunity to possibly get a job offer in London. This would be a new company, a very large company, a new city, a new country, and work that I might not be particularly interested in as it is basically the same job I left 4 years ago. However, moving to London is another great opportunity, a once in a lifetime sort of thing, and I would probably manage people again, which is a career step I do not have at my current company. I would also have to wear suits to work, which I find a bit quaint and old fashioned. To pursue this job, I probably need to turn down San Francisco and if, after the interview process, I don't get a job offer I won't have anything because I already committed to leaving my company or moving to san fran at the end of September.
I'm in a bit of a pickle, and not sure where I'm going. I have been weighing the pros and cons of both, including risks, career development, corporate climates, and just interest in the jobs and lifestyles. I never had a strong desire to live in London, but I would love to be closer to Europe. However, it is farther from family and friends, even more so than San Fran I think. If not further, it is a larger trip.
I realized I have a very different view of where my current company is going than the current management team. The CEO said at a lunch the other day our director of development was doing an excellent job. Our last software was so bad sales wouldn't even demo it, and the latest release was delayed 1 month because of issues. I found out about the 1 month delay, and keep in mind it's a 50 person company which should facilitate communication, the day it was supposed to be released. That type of delay doesn't pop up, it is known. So the release came out within 4 days of the delayed timeline, and my boss sent a corporate email about how great it is and how great the team did and how great the software is. I have seen the software, it is not getting better. Anyway, I am going to ask him if I can run a project where I can blow off timelines, not communicate them, and still be congratulated and have everyone think I'm doing a great job. The problem is nobody in my company is accounatable for anything, which is odd because accountability is probably 1/4 of what we tell clients they need to build into their management framework.
Recently, I have been unloading all my projects, per my boss' orders, so I could work on our online training classes, which is a new product we are releasing. Basically, I am responsible for writing all the consulting methodology courses for the portal, even though I am not permitted to give them. We have a consulting team that is generally useless and "to busy" to be involved. I sent an email a few weeks back asking for input on a specific area beyond our 1 powerpoint. Our CEO said I could talk to him if i had questions on the presentation, 1 guys said we should brainstorm, and none of the other 4 people responded. To busy to be involved, fine. Anyway, I figured our largest client must have had to do this at some point so I called one of our contacts for advice or any information they had. It turns out they did a presentation on exactly this at our last conference, which I didn't attend because I was almost on paternity leave. All of the people I asked for advice did attend the conference, but nobody mentioned to check those presentations. Nobody mentioned anything really. I am only considering moving to San Fran because it's a lower risk option than finding a job anywhere else. Now that london could happen, San Fran is much less appealing. But it's still low risk, and appealing in that way.
The decision is open. I'll ask around on Monday and see what people say. I am scheduled to look for an apartment in sf next weekend, so this week is go-no go. Will I go? The more I consider it, the worse it seems...
2007/07/26
Border security and wall around my life
It's pretty obvious to me our political system is broken. I'm not just talking about our president, but the congress as well. Nothing can happen. Some would argue nothing should happen, because government just prevents action. There is probably something to be said for that, but I'm not going to think about it now.
Right now, I'm concerned with the unofficial costs of the war that neither side are bringing up. This includes the long term ongoing costs of health care, especially for post traumatic stress, of our veterans. However, what about the costs to countries neighboring Iraq and their need to assume thousands of refugees? Think about how angry the immigration debate here is, and consider what it should be over there? Think about the long term effects to the effected countries (Iraq losing people and the countries forced to take them in). Ask yourself what our government is doing to support them? Neither political party is truly addressing this, and even if we pulled out tomorrow, there are residual costs, monetary and political, that are incalculable.
Neither party seems much interested in addressing this. The republicans don't really seem to care, and the democrats don't seem to be strong enough to stand up to the republicans. It's broken. The country, our country, needs to start over. Adding a 3rd political party won't help. It's larger than that. It's the entire psyche of America. I actually almost cried today in my car just thinking about it, all those lives. Whenever I get depressed about my life, I just feel stupid and insignificant because so many people have so many more problems than i do. But I think it's the powerlessness that really gets to me, because I don't know what to do. Sometimes it just feels like money and power steamroll everyone, and working toward change just proves how powerless I am. I am afraid of that feeling, and sometimes I think I just keep running from it.
Does that mean our political system is broken, or I am broken? I am afraid of being poor. I have never been poor, and I've never been rich but I'm afraid of that in a way too. My high school basketball coach once said, "Don't be afraid of success." It seemed a foolish thing to say to me then. It seems very profound to me now because now I understand it. Somehow, I can't imagine being anywhere other than the middle, and I'm not sure I want to be. Living in Honduras taught me a lot about who I am and how people who are poor struggle. They still laugh, they still enjoy their lives, but there is this quiet desperation of hopelessness that you can almost smell, you can definately feel it, that I never knew how to take. Do I owe them anything? Do I owe the world anything? The world doesn't owe me anything. Is it enough to donate money and move on? I feel like it's not. Is it worthwhile throwing myself into something, living in relative poverty, to fight a battle that cannot be won?
In the next 4 days I change my life. I'm not sure how yet, but I know i need to switch jobs or location, possibly both. I have an offer from my current company to move to San Francisco, which would keep my middle class and my life relatively easy. Hopefully in SF I would volunteer more and really get involved in something. But is that enough? Does it mean anything? If I move to DC and work for some NGO for human rights or against human trafficking, would I be happier?
I decided a few years back that happiness should be paramount to a person. It's my take on darwin I suppose. I think historically happiness has been through things, family, house, field, etc. For me, it is an interesting job and some financial flexibility. I realize those are things, but I generally don't get to caught up in having the best car, TV, clothes, etc. But I realize those are my choices, you can make your own. The issue I guess I need to resolve, in the next 4 days or the next year if i go to SF, is who am I really? What do I really want? How do I get there?
If i truly believe America is broken, shouldn't I work to fix it? Even if I know it can't be fixed, not in any significant way anyway. It's to big, to many rules, to much history. A violent revolution in America is infeasible, and small scale change is impractical, slow, and doomed to fail to the violence of money and greed. I truly believe that. Politicians, like most of us, watch out for their own. It's broken. Do I care? Where do I go next?
Right now, I'm concerned with the unofficial costs of the war that neither side are bringing up. This includes the long term ongoing costs of health care, especially for post traumatic stress, of our veterans. However, what about the costs to countries neighboring Iraq and their need to assume thousands of refugees? Think about how angry the immigration debate here is, and consider what it should be over there? Think about the long term effects to the effected countries (Iraq losing people and the countries forced to take them in). Ask yourself what our government is doing to support them? Neither political party is truly addressing this, and even if we pulled out tomorrow, there are residual costs, monetary and political, that are incalculable.
Neither party seems much interested in addressing this. The republicans don't really seem to care, and the democrats don't seem to be strong enough to stand up to the republicans. It's broken. The country, our country, needs to start over. Adding a 3rd political party won't help. It's larger than that. It's the entire psyche of America. I actually almost cried today in my car just thinking about it, all those lives. Whenever I get depressed about my life, I just feel stupid and insignificant because so many people have so many more problems than i do. But I think it's the powerlessness that really gets to me, because I don't know what to do. Sometimes it just feels like money and power steamroll everyone, and working toward change just proves how powerless I am. I am afraid of that feeling, and sometimes I think I just keep running from it.
Does that mean our political system is broken, or I am broken? I am afraid of being poor. I have never been poor, and I've never been rich but I'm afraid of that in a way too. My high school basketball coach once said, "Don't be afraid of success." It seemed a foolish thing to say to me then. It seems very profound to me now because now I understand it. Somehow, I can't imagine being anywhere other than the middle, and I'm not sure I want to be. Living in Honduras taught me a lot about who I am and how people who are poor struggle. They still laugh, they still enjoy their lives, but there is this quiet desperation of hopelessness that you can almost smell, you can definately feel it, that I never knew how to take. Do I owe them anything? Do I owe the world anything? The world doesn't owe me anything. Is it enough to donate money and move on? I feel like it's not. Is it worthwhile throwing myself into something, living in relative poverty, to fight a battle that cannot be won?
In the next 4 days I change my life. I'm not sure how yet, but I know i need to switch jobs or location, possibly both. I have an offer from my current company to move to San Francisco, which would keep my middle class and my life relatively easy. Hopefully in SF I would volunteer more and really get involved in something. But is that enough? Does it mean anything? If I move to DC and work for some NGO for human rights or against human trafficking, would I be happier?
I decided a few years back that happiness should be paramount to a person. It's my take on darwin I suppose. I think historically happiness has been through things, family, house, field, etc. For me, it is an interesting job and some financial flexibility. I realize those are things, but I generally don't get to caught up in having the best car, TV, clothes, etc. But I realize those are my choices, you can make your own. The issue I guess I need to resolve, in the next 4 days or the next year if i go to SF, is who am I really? What do I really want? How do I get there?
If i truly believe America is broken, shouldn't I work to fix it? Even if I know it can't be fixed, not in any significant way anyway. It's to big, to many rules, to much history. A violent revolution in America is infeasible, and small scale change is impractical, slow, and doomed to fail to the violence of money and greed. I truly believe that. Politicians, like most of us, watch out for their own. It's broken. Do I care? Where do I go next?
2007/07/01
Probably lost
I am trying to teach myself a little more about probability. I'm not sure why, maybe it's because during my last trip to Vegas, my only trip to Vegas, I got hosed by ProblyNotU, the norse god of gambling who obviously hates me. Maybe it's because i was bored and figured this book might be interesting. Most likely it's probably because it is something I feel like I should understand, but don't really.
Anyway, I bought this book as part of my birthday present to myself (is that lame? not buying yourself a birthday present, but making part of it a book on probability?). After a bit of history of probability, they get to a point where they are talking about standard distribution, which makes sense since it is the standard after all, and they mentioned something about the standard deviation. If you had asked me to define the standard deviation before I was reading this, I would have said the smaller the standard deviation, the tighter the values around the mean. One standard deviation from the mean is approximately 32% (I think) of the values, so approx. 64% of the area under the standard bell curve is within 1 std dev of the mean.
However, and this is one of those interesting facts that really makes math interesting and makes me believe the universe might generally be annoyed with me for some reason and be generally entirely random, but maybe at some point it will love me and become orderly. The fact is this: on a standard bell curve, one standard deviation is the inflection point of the graph, meaning the point where the graph goes from convex to concave (or vice versa, depending if you are travelling up or down the graph. I can't remember which is which).
Now that is interesting. I guess if I had really thought about it, I might have figured that out, or just tossed out a "wouldn't it be interesting if the standard dev was related to the inflection point...". In my 2nd semester calculus in college, and stop me if you've heard this one, our professor used to say things like, "This is pretty straight forward, and you would figure this out if you were left on a desert island but we don't have time for that..." then he would put up some 8 blackboard proof showing the sky is blue because the arc of the curve under the water bubble in the sky reflects in such a way or some other crazy thing I would frankly not have figured out on a desert island. I think if I was left on a desert island, I would be the greatest coconut shooting basketball player in history, but that's another post. Anyway, his name was Prof. Mattock (Maddick, Matok, something like that), and he was great. I don't know if he is still teaching, but he should be. He was probably the 2nd best teacher I had in college.
Anyway, since I'm telling stories, I'm not sure how i got out of the introduction probability course without learning this. I didn't understand the entirity of the class, so maybe the inflection point/standard dev issue was mentioned between Chebyshev and Poisson distributions, I don't know. Anyway, it was one of those classes that wasn't required for graduation, but was required for almost every single major so everyone in the college had taken it, almost all of us from the same professor. The professor was a quirky little guy who had taught the class for a million years and liked to say things like, "If anyone comes up to you on the street and offers you a poisson distribution with a standard devition of 90%, run away!" He had a million examples like this, and the only thing i remember is that Poisson may have something to do with the odds of rare things happening to you that you don't want to happen (lightning strikes, things like that). It could probably work the other way (rare things happening to you that you do want to happen, like love), but he never talked about that. Glass is half full kind of guy I suppose, I can appreciate that. I think my strongest memory of the class is I took it with a bunch of friends, including upper classmen and one friend who took it pass/fail because everyone else was taking it. He only came to about 3 classes. He was sitting behind one class me making fun of people walking in, which is generally how he passed his time. People were filing in, and one classic nerd looking guy walks in with the periodic table of elements on his T-shirt. My friend starts laughing and points at him just as the teacher walks in (what are the odds?). So the teacher walks in, the class quiets down just as my friend continues pointing blurts out quite loudly because it had been loud a moment ago, "Look at the geek!" as he just keeps laughing and pointing and it's dead silent except for him and those of us near him laughing or trying not to laugh. Good times.
Anyway, the professor was quirky but I'm not sure how i got out of that class without understanding even that basic relationship. He was a good teacher too, but I think he passed away a few years back, which is sad.
Anyway, in general, at times like this, I'm happy I appreciate math and science because there is always more for me to learn and understand, and it generally fascinates me. However, sometimes I'm not really sure how I ever graduated. Hmmph.
Anyway, I bought this book as part of my birthday present to myself (is that lame? not buying yourself a birthday present, but making part of it a book on probability?). After a bit of history of probability, they get to a point where they are talking about standard distribution, which makes sense since it is the standard after all, and they mentioned something about the standard deviation. If you had asked me to define the standard deviation before I was reading this, I would have said the smaller the standard deviation, the tighter the values around the mean. One standard deviation from the mean is approximately 32% (I think) of the values, so approx. 64% of the area under the standard bell curve is within 1 std dev of the mean.
However, and this is one of those interesting facts that really makes math interesting and makes me believe the universe might generally be annoyed with me for some reason and be generally entirely random, but maybe at some point it will love me and become orderly. The fact is this: on a standard bell curve, one standard deviation is the inflection point of the graph, meaning the point where the graph goes from convex to concave (or vice versa, depending if you are travelling up or down the graph. I can't remember which is which).
Now that is interesting. I guess if I had really thought about it, I might have figured that out, or just tossed out a "wouldn't it be interesting if the standard dev was related to the inflection point...". In my 2nd semester calculus in college, and stop me if you've heard this one, our professor used to say things like, "This is pretty straight forward, and you would figure this out if you were left on a desert island but we don't have time for that..." then he would put up some 8 blackboard proof showing the sky is blue because the arc of the curve under the water bubble in the sky reflects in such a way or some other crazy thing I would frankly not have figured out on a desert island. I think if I was left on a desert island, I would be the greatest coconut shooting basketball player in history, but that's another post. Anyway, his name was Prof. Mattock (Maddick, Matok, something like that), and he was great. I don't know if he is still teaching, but he should be. He was probably the 2nd best teacher I had in college.
Anyway, since I'm telling stories, I'm not sure how i got out of the introduction probability course without learning this. I didn't understand the entirity of the class, so maybe the inflection point/standard dev issue was mentioned between Chebyshev and Poisson distributions, I don't know. Anyway, it was one of those classes that wasn't required for graduation, but was required for almost every single major so everyone in the college had taken it, almost all of us from the same professor. The professor was a quirky little guy who had taught the class for a million years and liked to say things like, "If anyone comes up to you on the street and offers you a poisson distribution with a standard devition of 90%, run away!" He had a million examples like this, and the only thing i remember is that Poisson may have something to do with the odds of rare things happening to you that you don't want to happen (lightning strikes, things like that). It could probably work the other way (rare things happening to you that you do want to happen, like love), but he never talked about that. Glass is half full kind of guy I suppose, I can appreciate that. I think my strongest memory of the class is I took it with a bunch of friends, including upper classmen and one friend who took it pass/fail because everyone else was taking it. He only came to about 3 classes. He was sitting behind one class me making fun of people walking in, which is generally how he passed his time. People were filing in, and one classic nerd looking guy walks in with the periodic table of elements on his T-shirt. My friend starts laughing and points at him just as the teacher walks in (what are the odds?). So the teacher walks in, the class quiets down just as my friend continues pointing blurts out quite loudly because it had been loud a moment ago, "Look at the geek!" as he just keeps laughing and pointing and it's dead silent except for him and those of us near him laughing or trying not to laugh. Good times.
Anyway, the professor was quirky but I'm not sure how i got out of that class without understanding even that basic relationship. He was a good teacher too, but I think he passed away a few years back, which is sad.
Anyway, in general, at times like this, I'm happy I appreciate math and science because there is always more for me to learn and understand, and it generally fascinates me. However, sometimes I'm not really sure how I ever graduated. Hmmph.
2007/06/30
Marketing and propoganda
Are marketing and propaganda the same things? I was thinking about this over the last week as I was inundated and, by the end of the week, tired of two types of events happening this week in America. The first, most commonly called marketing, was the release of the iPhone. The second, more propaganda, was the release of Michael Moore's movie on health care called Sicko. I will state from the outset i am not very interested in either product. I do not plan to buy an iPhone, and I do not intend to see Sicko. However, I think the convergence of propaganda and marketing is an interesting concept.
I did a little (very little, actually) research into some online dictionaries into the definitions of marketing and propaganda. A typical marketing definition involved all manner of work associated with the transfer of a good or product from producer to consumer. Apple is working hard to get the idea of the iPhone to the consumer so we will want to buy it. They produce it, we buy it. It is a very easy example of marketing.
Propaganda was defined as ideas or information spread to either harm or benefit a group, idea, movement, etc. Logically, it is usually referred in reference to governments (Nazi propaganda, war propaganda), or used derisively when one side of an argument wants to put down the other point of view (that's not a valid point, it's pure propaganda). Propaganda is seen as 1 sided.
But isn't marketing? Are not the two exactly the same? If not from a strict literary and historical definition, but in today's society? When the government uses propaganda, it is trying to convince us (the consumer) their idea or belief (the product) is best, and we should purchase it (vote for them). Propaganda is normally not balanced, but neither is marketing.
My problem with the current structure of our society is that nothing is 1 sided. Many people lament the lose of journalistic integrity as that middle ground. That may be true, I don't know that I ever really believed most journalism was unbiased. Anyhow, how many times have you read an op-ed piece or watched a news segment where you knew, before it began, the argument about to be prevented? What is the point?
That brings me to Sicko. I think Michael Moore is an intelligent man who could become a strong advocate for what he believes. Instead, I believe that his presentation is so over the top and one sided, it does not convince anyone who does not already agree with him. It fires up both sides of the issue, but does not present a balanced argument in his favor. He loses subtly and, because of that, I don't find him interesting.
The iPhone is actually an interesting concept. I would be curious to see how much money apple paying for advertising time, then how much they spent per minute the iPhone was on the air. I read or saw numerous articles on not only the phone, but how Apple marketed the phone. Basically, it became additional publicity on how Apple published the phone, so the per minute exposure cost for the iPhone was actually significantly less than a normal analysis of marketing would have you believe. This is also true of movies or any big budget release. For example, if 1 million dollars buys you 10 hours of ads on TV, you are paying $100,000 / hour. However, if there is an additional 10 hours discussing your ads, you are paying $50,000 / hour. Then if there is an additional 1,000 views to YouTube watching this and hits to discussion boards and other op-eds about this, your cost continue to drop. Your product may not sell, but it won't be a secret.
So I know all about the iPhone, but I don't want one. I know all about what the administration tells us about the war, but I don't believe that either. I hate marketing. I hate propaganda. I hate new products, and I hate our politicians. It's all the same illusions, just focused on physical products or people, nothing more seperates them. I can't really believe this is what America is becoming. I don't believe either of them.
The more I live in America, the more disconnected I feel. I don't believe anything, from anyone, ever. This isn't just a problem of consumerism, it has crept into my personally and working life too. I don't trust anyone, because I always believe there is an ulterior motive. I am generally fairly solitary by nature, and I am comfortable with that because it is who I am. Recently, it seems to me I am talking more and more to people only when they need something, and never otherwise. Am I being used? I don't think so. I do really believe they are my friends, and they generally leave me to my solitude because I enjoy it, because I don't push them to go out with me, etc. I can't believe how much my cynicism is consuming me though, and it's affected by this weird constant propaganda marketing machine that is our government, that is our products, that is everything around us. I feel like it's suffocating me. There isn't anywhere I can go in America to get away from this, because it is seeped into the very lives of everyone around. Even if I don't follow it (sell the computer, lose the TV, etc), people I see and interact with will. In America, everywhere, I am trapped. Everywhere, to some degree given the parasitic spread of technology, I would be trapped. Everywhere i would be trapped.
I did a little (very little, actually) research into some online dictionaries into the definitions of marketing and propaganda. A typical marketing definition involved all manner of work associated with the transfer of a good or product from producer to consumer. Apple is working hard to get the idea of the iPhone to the consumer so we will want to buy it. They produce it, we buy it. It is a very easy example of marketing.
Propaganda was defined as ideas or information spread to either harm or benefit a group, idea, movement, etc. Logically, it is usually referred in reference to governments (Nazi propaganda, war propaganda), or used derisively when one side of an argument wants to put down the other point of view (that's not a valid point, it's pure propaganda). Propaganda is seen as 1 sided.
But isn't marketing? Are not the two exactly the same? If not from a strict literary and historical definition, but in today's society? When the government uses propaganda, it is trying to convince us (the consumer) their idea or belief (the product) is best, and we should purchase it (vote for them). Propaganda is normally not balanced, but neither is marketing.
My problem with the current structure of our society is that nothing is 1 sided. Many people lament the lose of journalistic integrity as that middle ground. That may be true, I don't know that I ever really believed most journalism was unbiased. Anyhow, how many times have you read an op-ed piece or watched a news segment where you knew, before it began, the argument about to be prevented? What is the point?
That brings me to Sicko. I think Michael Moore is an intelligent man who could become a strong advocate for what he believes. Instead, I believe that his presentation is so over the top and one sided, it does not convince anyone who does not already agree with him. It fires up both sides of the issue, but does not present a balanced argument in his favor. He loses subtly and, because of that, I don't find him interesting.
The iPhone is actually an interesting concept. I would be curious to see how much money apple paying for advertising time, then how much they spent per minute the iPhone was on the air. I read or saw numerous articles on not only the phone, but how Apple marketed the phone. Basically, it became additional publicity on how Apple published the phone, so the per minute exposure cost for the iPhone was actually significantly less than a normal analysis of marketing would have you believe. This is also true of movies or any big budget release. For example, if 1 million dollars buys you 10 hours of ads on TV, you are paying $100,000 / hour. However, if there is an additional 10 hours discussing your ads, you are paying $50,000 / hour. Then if there is an additional 1,000 views to YouTube watching this and hits to discussion boards and other op-eds about this, your cost continue to drop. Your product may not sell, but it won't be a secret.
So I know all about the iPhone, but I don't want one. I know all about what the administration tells us about the war, but I don't believe that either. I hate marketing. I hate propaganda. I hate new products, and I hate our politicians. It's all the same illusions, just focused on physical products or people, nothing more seperates them. I can't really believe this is what America is becoming. I don't believe either of them.
The more I live in America, the more disconnected I feel. I don't believe anything, from anyone, ever. This isn't just a problem of consumerism, it has crept into my personally and working life too. I don't trust anyone, because I always believe there is an ulterior motive. I am generally fairly solitary by nature, and I am comfortable with that because it is who I am. Recently, it seems to me I am talking more and more to people only when they need something, and never otherwise. Am I being used? I don't think so. I do really believe they are my friends, and they generally leave me to my solitude because I enjoy it, because I don't push them to go out with me, etc. I can't believe how much my cynicism is consuming me though, and it's affected by this weird constant propaganda marketing machine that is our government, that is our products, that is everything around us. I feel like it's suffocating me. There isn't anywhere I can go in America to get away from this, because it is seeped into the very lives of everyone around. Even if I don't follow it (sell the computer, lose the TV, etc), people I see and interact with will. In America, everywhere, I am trapped. Everywhere, to some degree given the parasitic spread of technology, I would be trapped. Everywhere i would be trapped.
2007/06/25
Happiness
I believe everyone is responsible for their own happiness. I also beleive there are a million reasons why nobody is happy, and a million other reasons why everone is happy. I don't even really know how to define happiness. Is it waking up in the morning happy to face another day? Is it ending my work day and knowing I can get home and drink wine and forget about everyone outside? Is it sitting in a park watching other people and realizing, hell, i'm not as bad as those people?
If I can't define happiness, can I be happy? If I switch jobs or cities or friends or hobbies, does it matter? I want the day to pass quickly. If it does, I'm happy. NOthing I don't like to do makes the day pass quickly. If I like what I am doing at work, the day passes quickly. If i am playing frisbee or drinking or hanging out with friends or reading a good book, the day passes quickly and I am, therefore, happy. Is that a childish view? I don't know, but it's as good a working definition as I have right now.
If I can't define happiness, can I be happy? If I switch jobs or cities or friends or hobbies, does it matter? I want the day to pass quickly. If it does, I'm happy. NOthing I don't like to do makes the day pass quickly. If I like what I am doing at work, the day passes quickly. If i am playing frisbee or drinking or hanging out with friends or reading a good book, the day passes quickly and I am, therefore, happy. Is that a childish view? I don't know, but it's as good a working definition as I have right now.
2007/05/16
Endings and beginnings, the follow up
So after yesterdays post which I wrote to try to calm myself down, written after a rant to my boss and his boss and another guy in an attempt to calm myself down, after sitting for about 1 hour trying to calm myself, after drinking a gin and tonic in an attempt to calm myself down, after brooding and thinking and pondering in an attempt to calm myself down, after all that I was 85% certain I was resigning today.
Then a few things fell into place and something occured to me: there are two active projects in the company, one of which is my project and I am the only one who can complete it. The other is something I was slated to do through September. So I went into work today and made a proposal: I will work on and complete both by the end of September, then we can part ways on happy terms. The company wins because I complete the projects, one of which is a new product which will hopefully bring them new success. My client wins because I help them complete a transition from outsourcing to internal processing. And I win because I get 3-4 months of summer to hang out in Philly, play frisbee, and save money. So far, after day 1, my company seems to be going for it. I convinced my VP, my boss a little less so but somewhat, and I think it will just sail through because nobody else will care. I'm excited, it's time for me to start planning the next adventure in my life.
All options are open, many ideas will be considered.
Then a few things fell into place and something occured to me: there are two active projects in the company, one of which is my project and I am the only one who can complete it. The other is something I was slated to do through September. So I went into work today and made a proposal: I will work on and complete both by the end of September, then we can part ways on happy terms. The company wins because I complete the projects, one of which is a new product which will hopefully bring them new success. My client wins because I help them complete a transition from outsourcing to internal processing. And I win because I get 3-4 months of summer to hang out in Philly, play frisbee, and save money. So far, after day 1, my company seems to be going for it. I convinced my VP, my boss a little less so but somewhat, and I think it will just sail through because nobody else will care. I'm excited, it's time for me to start planning the next adventure in my life.
All options are open, many ideas will be considered.
2007/05/15
Beginnings and endings
Everything we experience is built upon what we have done before, everything that happens is built upon something that already passed. Even new things, even things as crazy as christ depicted in feces in a modern art gallery, are built upon things that happened before. None of us are truly original, and none of us are entirely fake. The desire to be original means you are a copy of another person who tried the same thing, and even if you do something new, it doesn't matter.
I realized today I hate my job. I hate it. I haven't felt this much hatred in a long time, I haven't felt this beat up or tired or demoralized since, well, the last time I left my job. The last time I left my job I agonized for months, maybe even a year. I was younger, a little less confident, not sure how or where or even if I really fit into the world. I wondered if anything else would come along, or how i would survive in the interim. I don't worry about that anymore. I have designed my life in a such a way that I have savings built up which allows me the financial flexibility to leave, i have built my own personality so I am strong enough to do it. Work, rather the work that I am supposedly trained to do, should be empowering. I should be learning new things and meeting people and helping companies run themselves better. It may not be the most noble enterprise, but it should be interesting. It has given me, in a fairly short amount of time, the ability to save money again and build up some savings. I realized tonight, after coming home and responding to some email, after I left work to work at home on a document I'll never bother to write that nobody at my company really cares if I ever do, after reading an email that somebody changed a password without telling me so I need to email 22 people for the second time in 3 months that the password changed and nobody told me, that i hate my job. I believe managers should empower people to make decisions, to learn, and to guide them in that. I don't get that. I have no hope for promotion, excitement, or interest in my job for at least 6 months. I am supposed to run this project that nobody else in the company understands and help build our online training courses. I am doing the latter because when I had free time, I went looking for work within the company to help someone. I am now in a career spiral because I was trying to be a good employee on one hand and, probably more accurately, was bored and trying to fill my day. Now, I am writing training courses. Somewhere towards the end of Catch-22, there is a line where Yossarian is saying they won't send him to the Pacific to continue fighting because he is certifiably crazy. He says, "They can't send me, I'm crazy." The other guys looks at him, and you can almost feel not only the pity that he doesn't get it but the absolute hopelessness of the line, and he says, "Who else would go?"
It might be time for me to go. It might be time for me to give notice on the apartment, sell some books, sell this computer, sell my car, store some pictures like buble wrapped memories and disappear for a while.
I told a story as I was in a canoe in Mosquitia in Honduras about spending a week on a beach in Mexico. I didn't really speak spanish, and it was a small town on the Pacific coast and nobody spoke english. I had a good book and a notebook and I spent all day alone with those 2 friends. I was happy. The joke was that that was paradise for an introvert. Maybe it was, and maybe i am. Maybe I need that again, I felt alive again when I was travelling a few weeks back in central america on a trip I still haven't figured out how to write about. maybe it's just time to pick up and try something new. I told people I was working from home in the morning tomorrow. I'll take a walk, drink a coffee and watch the river flow. I'll pretend I don't understand anyone and they don't understand me. I've been to busy lately and I lost touch with myself again. I promised myself before I would never let that happen and I would never do a job I absolutely hated. I fear I might be 0-2 right now.
I realized today I hate my job. I hate it. I haven't felt this much hatred in a long time, I haven't felt this beat up or tired or demoralized since, well, the last time I left my job. The last time I left my job I agonized for months, maybe even a year. I was younger, a little less confident, not sure how or where or even if I really fit into the world. I wondered if anything else would come along, or how i would survive in the interim. I don't worry about that anymore. I have designed my life in a such a way that I have savings built up which allows me the financial flexibility to leave, i have built my own personality so I am strong enough to do it. Work, rather the work that I am supposedly trained to do, should be empowering. I should be learning new things and meeting people and helping companies run themselves better. It may not be the most noble enterprise, but it should be interesting. It has given me, in a fairly short amount of time, the ability to save money again and build up some savings. I realized tonight, after coming home and responding to some email, after I left work to work at home on a document I'll never bother to write that nobody at my company really cares if I ever do, after reading an email that somebody changed a password without telling me so I need to email 22 people for the second time in 3 months that the password changed and nobody told me, that i hate my job. I believe managers should empower people to make decisions, to learn, and to guide them in that. I don't get that. I have no hope for promotion, excitement, or interest in my job for at least 6 months. I am supposed to run this project that nobody else in the company understands and help build our online training courses. I am doing the latter because when I had free time, I went looking for work within the company to help someone. I am now in a career spiral because I was trying to be a good employee on one hand and, probably more accurately, was bored and trying to fill my day. Now, I am writing training courses. Somewhere towards the end of Catch-22, there is a line where Yossarian is saying they won't send him to the Pacific to continue fighting because he is certifiably crazy. He says, "They can't send me, I'm crazy." The other guys looks at him, and you can almost feel not only the pity that he doesn't get it but the absolute hopelessness of the line, and he says, "Who else would go?"
It might be time for me to go. It might be time for me to give notice on the apartment, sell some books, sell this computer, sell my car, store some pictures like buble wrapped memories and disappear for a while.
I told a story as I was in a canoe in Mosquitia in Honduras about spending a week on a beach in Mexico. I didn't really speak spanish, and it was a small town on the Pacific coast and nobody spoke english. I had a good book and a notebook and I spent all day alone with those 2 friends. I was happy. The joke was that that was paradise for an introvert. Maybe it was, and maybe i am. Maybe I need that again, I felt alive again when I was travelling a few weeks back in central america on a trip I still haven't figured out how to write about. maybe it's just time to pick up and try something new. I told people I was working from home in the morning tomorrow. I'll take a walk, drink a coffee and watch the river flow. I'll pretend I don't understand anyone and they don't understand me. I've been to busy lately and I lost touch with myself again. I promised myself before I would never let that happen and I would never do a job I absolutely hated. I fear I might be 0-2 right now.
2007/03/26
3 dog roof
So I haven't written in a while and I guess my only defense is that not only was I busy and travelling alot. Since my last blog, which shouldn't even count, I have spent weekends in NY, Vegas, Roatan, and DC. NY was NY, you can steel feel the energy when you step off the sidewalk. Vegas was Vegas. I lost a lot, but I had an excellent opportunity to win big on computer roulette at the Imperial Palace with a dealertainer who looked like Zsa Zsa Gabor. All weekend I had been playing 3 and 7 because those dates represent my birthday. Zsa Zsa walked over at one point and looked at my little electronic board and saw I was playing 3 and 7, and asked me where I was from. I represented the home town and said, "Michigan." Then she walked away. Then I thought it was stupid playing numbers and increased the amount of money I had on my even bet. The little ball bounces around and she says, "3. Congratulations Michigan." But of course I had moved my money. So I was a little annoyed, and I put money back on 7 because obviously 3 wouldn't hit again. The little ball rolls and, you guessed it, Zsa Zsa says into the mike, "3 again. Congratulations Michigan." I cashed out and went to the airport. It was brutal.
I caught the redeye back and went right to work, which was horrible except for the fact I knew I was heading out to Roatan the follow
ing week. Roatan is a little island off Honduras with some great diving and sunsets that look like the picture you see. I went to visit my parents, and even though they profess to love me, they wouldn't buy me a condo. They are still there, but they are going into a home soon enough. Anyway, that week was very relaxing. I snorkled, scuba dove, swam, sat on the beach and finished a few books. I also drank rum and cokes and relaxed. My shoulders are still in shock from the stress of being back, and I don't even work hard at my job. Such as it is. I ran a few times in Roatan and there isn't a flat area on the island. The best run was out of the little town straight up hill to 3 dog roof, which is a house at a crossroads with 3 dogs on the roof. The dogs bark at anyone who passes whether they are walking or on bike. That was before. This time, there were 2 dogs chained outside the house on the grass that barked at everything and even a peacock that was chained up. Even the peacocked honked at me, or peacocked at me, or whatever those birds do. It was great. We stayed in west end and the sunsets are amazing, you can swim to coral, and I saw beautiful fish, a morey eel, and a lobster walking around on some coral. I also saw a giant parrot fish which is one of the most beautiful things to see. Swimming around enough you can really see how different fish blend into different areas, such as the coral, or the sea grass, or the sandy bottom. The electricity went out for about 6 hours/day because a lot of people in Honduras don't pay their electric bill. Even the government owed something like $27 million, so the president took over the electric company. We'll see, I'm not hopeful he can really fix it.
ing week. Roatan is a little island off Honduras with some great diving and sunsets that look like the picture you see. I went to visit my parents, and even though they profess to love me, they wouldn't buy me a condo. They are still there, but they are going into a home soon enough. Anyway, that week was very relaxing. I snorkled, scuba dove, swam, sat on the beach and finished a few books. I also drank rum and cokes and relaxed. My shoulders are still in shock from the stress of being back, and I don't even work hard at my job. Such as it is. I ran a few times in Roatan and there isn't a flat area on the island. The best run was out of the little town straight up hill to 3 dog roof, which is a house at a crossroads with 3 dogs on the roof. The dogs bark at anyone who passes whether they are walking or on bike. That was before. This time, there were 2 dogs chained outside the house on the grass that barked at everything and even a peacock that was chained up. Even the peacocked honked at me, or peacocked at me, or whatever those birds do. It was great. We stayed in west end and the sunsets are amazing, you can swim to coral, and I saw beautiful fish, a morey eel, and a lobster walking around on some coral. I also saw a giant parrot fish which is one of the most beautiful things to see. Swimming around enough you can really see how different fish blend into different areas, such as the coral, or the sea grass, or the sandy bottom. The electricity went out for about 6 hours/day because a lot of people in Honduras don't pay their electric bill. Even the government owed something like $27 million, so the president took over the electric company. We'll see, I'm not hopeful he can really fix it. Last weekend I was in DC and realized I'm not doing anything interesting with my life. It was great to see people, but depressing in it's own way. Regardless, it's nice to see good people doing good things. One of the crazier members of the group couldn't make it, rumor was he fled to Alaska to get away from his girlfriend and any number of affairs and a strange outbreak of chlamydia. Everyone in peace corps isn't a world changer for the better.
This was just a quick post to update you on what's going on in my life. I'll probably get back to more topical thoughts fairly soon.
2007/02/26
Negation versus creation
The first exposure I had to the philosophy of Frederich Nietzsche was in college, he was the last in a series of four or five philosophers we studied. We ended up spending more time than we were supposed reading Hobbes' Leviathan (believe me, a few chapters is plenty, it's an interesting idea but 1/2 a semester for an intro to philosophy course?) so we only had a few weeks on Nietzsche. We read parts of his book Beyond Good and Evil. It's not a novel or an argument so much as it's a series of what i think are called aphorisms or something, not sure exactly what that means. Basically, it is a series of short ideas about almost everything. When I read it, I made a comment to someone (I think my mom actually) that he didn't seem to believe in anything but he certainly knew what he didn't believe it. I'll call that a philosophy of negation, a series of ideas about what should not be. For example, we should not allow women to be raped, children should not be soldiers, we should not cage humans in Cuba, etc (my examples, not his). Although you can identify a positive idea by taking the opposite of these ideas, it is not presented as such. I might have made up the term philosophy of negation, so if this has some other meaning to you I apologize. I think a lot of my ideas are too negative so I am working to be more positive, rather not complaining but coming up with ideas to improve things. I have been aware of this side of me for some time, but after a guy at worked called me the most negative person he had ever met, I decided to focus more strongly on it. He also said I was always smiling, which didn't make any sense to him, and that when he had a question I might bitch for 20 minutes first but I would always try to help. Welcome to my world buddy! Bear with me, this is going somewhere.
Anyway, later on in my life, I decided to try to push myself through what i have read is Nietzsche's best book, Thus Spoke Zarathustra. This is a book where he lays more clear an actual philosophy of life. And by clear what i really mean is murky and dense, and I should re-read it but I haven't chosen to devote myself to that yet. Anyway, I'll call this a philosophy of creation because the opposite of negativity is creation. Is that true? I don't know, but I like it and for me, for this example, it works. In Zarathustra, as much as i understood it, Nietzsche argues that man is a beast but that we can overcome our nature and become something more. He calls this the uberman or overman or superman, depending on the translation (I don't read German after all). He pities people who are bound to problems of this world because they don't realize that man can be more. Obviously, his argument is more in depth and more powerful than my crappy synopsis, but you can and should research that if you are interested. Actually, I believe it is this philosophy that sometimes lumps him in with the Third Reich and Hitler, this basic concept that man can overcome and become something else. It can be read into Hitler's idea of the perfect man, for him a type of German. I don't know that Nietzsche was an anti-semite and I think he would find that type of hatred a weakness that should be overcome. His narrator overcomes by leaving man and living in nature, in a cave, with animals, for a time. Isn't that always how philosophers do it?
Where am I going with this? For many years, I have been living a life of negation. I have been unhappy about what I cannot change, about who I am compared to who I think I should be, about things outside my control. Or things I perceived to be outside my control. However, my sphere of influence is larger than I believe, and my ability to change my own life is incredible. I need to transform myself into my own overman, transform my life into a life of creation, into a life where i create and surround myself with people who help me create a positive life for me and those around me. I often return to Nietzsche when I am confused because I am out of step somehow with friends or family and what they think I should be doing. Am I doing things because I want to (creation) or because I don't want to do something else (negation)? How am I pursuing my own life?
A few short examples of what i am talking about. I have a few friends who believe the point of man is to procreate, to pass on our seeds. They argue this is nature. I argue this was nature and that man has largely passed beyond that state. We aren't in any way near a singularity for humanity, a point where we cease to exist. All the wars and all the nuclear weapons won't wipe out our species. We don't exist in any sort of natural state so I can thankfully devote myself to other things if I so choose. I also read a book recently called Notes from an Economic Hitman about all the bad economic shit america does to keep other countries in control. It made me feel powerless. I'll talk more about that book later. I also had the wonderful opportunity to see my sister this weekend and hang out with an 18 month year old toddler. I forget what it's like to be around children, I forget how wonderful that experience is. His parents live a life very different from mine, but they obviously love the child and are doing all they can for him. Does that mean he is going to turn out well? No, but it's best hope any of us have. It's the greatest gift I received from my parents.
I am a little off track again. Basically, I have been thinking again about my life and how I view my life. I need to focus on myself, on my beliefs, on what i want. It's not selfish because I'm honest with people about what i can offer them. I need, or I want to, create beauty in my life, not identify ugliness. I have a chance that few people have because I have intentionally left my life fairly free of chains that others have (positive and negative) so I can become what i want to become. I just need to do it. I need to step outside even though it's cold and do it. I'm not even sure what it is and, because of that and only because of that, I'm not exactly how to find it. It might be the mountain or the city of the country or the word, but I'll find it. It's the journey towards that that will make me happy, for me I think it's that constant journey. No more negativity.
I think I sort of lost the thread at the end and couldn't really explain myself, but hopefully it makes enough sense. Actually, this wasn't even supposed to be about me. I was going to speak about America. We talk about the dream of America and how positive America has been for the world as an idea. Yet, when you look at our history, have we actually lived up to our potential as a nation? We define success by money, and by other countries having more money. What about more happiness? Our history since the second world war is sketchy at best. The dictators we have supported (including Saddam as you may recall) reads like a whose who list of terror. We speak now in golden words about freedom and such, but do we promote and fight for freedom around the world? Or do we fight for ourselves? As I need to remake my life, we need to remake America into a world leader. Obama might not be electable, he might not even have good ideas, but he at least speaks words that make me want to believe. He speaks like a creationist. Is he? I don't know. It's funny, but for all the obscene excesses of the academy awards, I love the "little" awards they announce before I went to bed at 9. Those people, some of them give speeches that make me believe in the power of film because they love it. Scorcese too, actually. They do it because they love it, and film like other mediums can make a difference.
America could and should be a strong positive leader throughout the world for so many things. People like to think we were before Bush because they hate him so much. I hate him too, I seriously think I could build a case for treason against the idea of america. However, that's glorifying the past. You want to think we used to be great? We weren't. We may have been better, but that's a question of degrees we all have to decide. How many genocides did we stop (compared to how many there were), how many people did we help compared to how many we could have helped? What is the ratio of hummers on the road to the number of people starving at any one time? What is the ratio of your effort to help to the amount of help needed? More importantly, what is that ratio for me? Do I want to look back in my life and say i offered up 2,000 lives I could have helped over 20 years so I could retire at 55? Could I ever be truly happy like that? Negation vs. creation. It's my life and my time to live. For me, what I want, it might not be what you want. It might not align to your goals. Fine. You don't criticize me when I disappear and I won't criticize you for staying. That is our new state of nature. That is what being a person means now. That is all we have to live for.
Anyway, later on in my life, I decided to try to push myself through what i have read is Nietzsche's best book, Thus Spoke Zarathustra. This is a book where he lays more clear an actual philosophy of life. And by clear what i really mean is murky and dense, and I should re-read it but I haven't chosen to devote myself to that yet. Anyway, I'll call this a philosophy of creation because the opposite of negativity is creation. Is that true? I don't know, but I like it and for me, for this example, it works. In Zarathustra, as much as i understood it, Nietzsche argues that man is a beast but that we can overcome our nature and become something more. He calls this the uberman or overman or superman, depending on the translation (I don't read German after all). He pities people who are bound to problems of this world because they don't realize that man can be more. Obviously, his argument is more in depth and more powerful than my crappy synopsis, but you can and should research that if you are interested. Actually, I believe it is this philosophy that sometimes lumps him in with the Third Reich and Hitler, this basic concept that man can overcome and become something else. It can be read into Hitler's idea of the perfect man, for him a type of German. I don't know that Nietzsche was an anti-semite and I think he would find that type of hatred a weakness that should be overcome. His narrator overcomes by leaving man and living in nature, in a cave, with animals, for a time. Isn't that always how philosophers do it?
Where am I going with this? For many years, I have been living a life of negation. I have been unhappy about what I cannot change, about who I am compared to who I think I should be, about things outside my control. Or things I perceived to be outside my control. However, my sphere of influence is larger than I believe, and my ability to change my own life is incredible. I need to transform myself into my own overman, transform my life into a life of creation, into a life where i create and surround myself with people who help me create a positive life for me and those around me. I often return to Nietzsche when I am confused because I am out of step somehow with friends or family and what they think I should be doing. Am I doing things because I want to (creation) or because I don't want to do something else (negation)? How am I pursuing my own life?
A few short examples of what i am talking about. I have a few friends who believe the point of man is to procreate, to pass on our seeds. They argue this is nature. I argue this was nature and that man has largely passed beyond that state. We aren't in any way near a singularity for humanity, a point where we cease to exist. All the wars and all the nuclear weapons won't wipe out our species. We don't exist in any sort of natural state so I can thankfully devote myself to other things if I so choose. I also read a book recently called Notes from an Economic Hitman about all the bad economic shit america does to keep other countries in control. It made me feel powerless. I'll talk more about that book later. I also had the wonderful opportunity to see my sister this weekend and hang out with an 18 month year old toddler. I forget what it's like to be around children, I forget how wonderful that experience is. His parents live a life very different from mine, but they obviously love the child and are doing all they can for him. Does that mean he is going to turn out well? No, but it's best hope any of us have. It's the greatest gift I received from my parents.
I am a little off track again. Basically, I have been thinking again about my life and how I view my life. I need to focus on myself, on my beliefs, on what i want. It's not selfish because I'm honest with people about what i can offer them. I need, or I want to, create beauty in my life, not identify ugliness. I have a chance that few people have because I have intentionally left my life fairly free of chains that others have (positive and negative) so I can become what i want to become. I just need to do it. I need to step outside even though it's cold and do it. I'm not even sure what it is and, because of that and only because of that, I'm not exactly how to find it. It might be the mountain or the city of the country or the word, but I'll find it. It's the journey towards that that will make me happy, for me I think it's that constant journey. No more negativity.
I think I sort of lost the thread at the end and couldn't really explain myself, but hopefully it makes enough sense. Actually, this wasn't even supposed to be about me. I was going to speak about America. We talk about the dream of America and how positive America has been for the world as an idea. Yet, when you look at our history, have we actually lived up to our potential as a nation? We define success by money, and by other countries having more money. What about more happiness? Our history since the second world war is sketchy at best. The dictators we have supported (including Saddam as you may recall) reads like a whose who list of terror. We speak now in golden words about freedom and such, but do we promote and fight for freedom around the world? Or do we fight for ourselves? As I need to remake my life, we need to remake America into a world leader. Obama might not be electable, he might not even have good ideas, but he at least speaks words that make me want to believe. He speaks like a creationist. Is he? I don't know. It's funny, but for all the obscene excesses of the academy awards, I love the "little" awards they announce before I went to bed at 9. Those people, some of them give speeches that make me believe in the power of film because they love it. Scorcese too, actually. They do it because they love it, and film like other mediums can make a difference.
America could and should be a strong positive leader throughout the world for so many things. People like to think we were before Bush because they hate him so much. I hate him too, I seriously think I could build a case for treason against the idea of america. However, that's glorifying the past. You want to think we used to be great? We weren't. We may have been better, but that's a question of degrees we all have to decide. How many genocides did we stop (compared to how many there were), how many people did we help compared to how many we could have helped? What is the ratio of hummers on the road to the number of people starving at any one time? What is the ratio of your effort to help to the amount of help needed? More importantly, what is that ratio for me? Do I want to look back in my life and say i offered up 2,000 lives I could have helped over 20 years so I could retire at 55? Could I ever be truly happy like that? Negation vs. creation. It's my life and my time to live. For me, what I want, it might not be what you want. It might not align to your goals. Fine. You don't criticize me when I disappear and I won't criticize you for staying. That is our new state of nature. That is what being a person means now. That is all we have to live for.
2006/12/11
If this isn't nice
For many years, I have been trying to find a point to my life. I have this stupid naive feeling somewhere deep inside that life is supposed to mean something. I spent a few years looking, and it doesn't. Or at least I haven't found it. I tried to convince myself that life is only about being happy, and as logical as that sounds, I just can't truly buy into that belief.
My favorite book is 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I won't bore you in this blog with why, but I always find myself returning to the sections on Colonel Aureliano Buendia. If you don't know the book, he has a solitary childhood and spends much of in a laboratory making little fish out of gold. At some point, he falls in love with a young girl and they get married. Shortly after, she dies while pregnant. Almost on a whim, he begins a series of wars (32 civil wars and he loses them all) against the conservative regime. That's the short story. The part that is relevant to this blog is that as he is condemned to death, he talks of laying in his cot waiting for the execution with nothing on his mind except a blind rage. He is never executed and begins another war. At some point, just as quickly as he decided to begin the fight, he ends it. He resigns, surrenders, and returns to his workshop and makes little fish of gold until he dies. In this solitary world, he finds solace against the world and against his rage. To me, it's as powerful a story as the last page of Camus' The Stranger, after the narrator chokes the priest and says something like "... and I woke up in that morning full of stars. As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope, I opened myself up to the gentle indifference of the world and finding it so like myself, so like a brother really, I realized I had been happy and was happy again..." He is executed the next day.
The first time I read that, I realized that was how I felt, that blind rage, that gentle worldly indifference. What is the point? Is there a point? I don't know why, I don't what I'm angry at. I have had a perfectly easy life, much better than almost everyone actually. My family is great, I have means to make a living, I can buy most things I want to buy. Somehow, it's not enough. I wish I could just sit home, watch tv, ignore the problems of the world, and be happy. I can't. I don't know what to do. I need to find my little workshop and my little goldfish.
This weekend, in a way, maybe I did. A friend was in town, someone I have known for many years although we don't keep in touch that much. We ended up sitting around waiting to go to a party, reading The Economist. She's a fiery little pistol and although we both agreed The Economist is very intelligent, I didn't actually realize what her reading it would be like. She ranted against everything! It got to the point where she would read a line, then with little puffs of smoke exhaling from her brain, yell at me about them. Arguing with the written word, she found a way to avoid her indifference. We discussed the articles for some time, she is one of the few people who not only yells at me about developing world issues, she actually kicks my ass and I hate it. It was fun, the kind of thing I don't do often and I don't always appreciate until later.
Another of my favorite authors is Kurt Vonnegut. In his book Timequake, he begins by just telling stories from his life. One of them involves his uncle and a point he made that we need to make a point of enjoying our life. At a time when everything was nice and quiet and life was good, his uncle would say, "If this isn't nice, what is?" And maybe life really isn't so bad, and maybe I will ultimately find something to soothe me. Maybe I won't. But for me, as long as I focus on the good times and keep seeking these small pleasures, I am not so angry. I am not so unhappy. Amazingly, almost without realizing it, I am happy. "...I realized I had been happy, and I was happy again..." Maybe life doesn't have a point, or maybe I will never find it. But I suppose it's not so bad. I'm sitting in my apartment listening to Billie Holiday and writing, doing something I love surrounded by books and drinking a beer. Hell, if this isn't nice what is? Maybe I should even smile.
My favorite book is 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I won't bore you in this blog with why, but I always find myself returning to the sections on Colonel Aureliano Buendia. If you don't know the book, he has a solitary childhood and spends much of in a laboratory making little fish out of gold. At some point, he falls in love with a young girl and they get married. Shortly after, she dies while pregnant. Almost on a whim, he begins a series of wars (32 civil wars and he loses them all) against the conservative regime. That's the short story. The part that is relevant to this blog is that as he is condemned to death, he talks of laying in his cot waiting for the execution with nothing on his mind except a blind rage. He is never executed and begins another war. At some point, just as quickly as he decided to begin the fight, he ends it. He resigns, surrenders, and returns to his workshop and makes little fish of gold until he dies. In this solitary world, he finds solace against the world and against his rage. To me, it's as powerful a story as the last page of Camus' The Stranger, after the narrator chokes the priest and says something like "... and I woke up in that morning full of stars. As if that blind rage had washed me clean, rid me of hope, I opened myself up to the gentle indifference of the world and finding it so like myself, so like a brother really, I realized I had been happy and was happy again..." He is executed the next day.
The first time I read that, I realized that was how I felt, that blind rage, that gentle worldly indifference. What is the point? Is there a point? I don't know why, I don't what I'm angry at. I have had a perfectly easy life, much better than almost everyone actually. My family is great, I have means to make a living, I can buy most things I want to buy. Somehow, it's not enough. I wish I could just sit home, watch tv, ignore the problems of the world, and be happy. I can't. I don't know what to do. I need to find my little workshop and my little goldfish.
This weekend, in a way, maybe I did. A friend was in town, someone I have known for many years although we don't keep in touch that much. We ended up sitting around waiting to go to a party, reading The Economist. She's a fiery little pistol and although we both agreed The Economist is very intelligent, I didn't actually realize what her reading it would be like. She ranted against everything! It got to the point where she would read a line, then with little puffs of smoke exhaling from her brain, yell at me about them. Arguing with the written word, she found a way to avoid her indifference. We discussed the articles for some time, she is one of the few people who not only yells at me about developing world issues, she actually kicks my ass and I hate it. It was fun, the kind of thing I don't do often and I don't always appreciate until later.
Another of my favorite authors is Kurt Vonnegut. In his book Timequake, he begins by just telling stories from his life. One of them involves his uncle and a point he made that we need to make a point of enjoying our life. At a time when everything was nice and quiet and life was good, his uncle would say, "If this isn't nice, what is?" And maybe life really isn't so bad, and maybe I will ultimately find something to soothe me. Maybe I won't. But for me, as long as I focus on the good times and keep seeking these small pleasures, I am not so angry. I am not so unhappy. Amazingly, almost without realizing it, I am happy. "...I realized I had been happy, and I was happy again..." Maybe life doesn't have a point, or maybe I will never find it. But I suppose it's not so bad. I'm sitting in my apartment listening to Billie Holiday and writing, doing something I love surrounded by books and drinking a beer. Hell, if this isn't nice what is? Maybe I should even smile.
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