Regarding Friendships

Regarding Friendships:

Also, why what we want is how we should behave

 

I hate to do this, but I really need to put up a disclaimer. Oddly, it is relevant to the piece at hand. I started writing this about a week ago, week and a half ago maybe even. Since I began working on, taking breaks for mandated revelry, self-exposure, and exploration of the beginnings of a new chapter in my life, some unfortunate events seem to have befallen myself, and a peer of mine whose friendship I, very much, value. The specifics are not relevant beyond the other party in question but, because I feel that honesty and communication are important in friendships, I want to make sure that it's clear that this piece is not reactionary, nor should it be taken in any way personal by any one. While my writing is often littered with examples and lessons learned from my experiences with myself and others, it is never a platform to be scathing or slanderous to someone else. That is not how one resolves a difference one cares about and, if I didn't care about it, I sure as hell couldn't be convinced to write about it.

 

More and more lately, I've seen the questions about 'What does it mean to be a friend?' coming up more and more. I've been engaging these discussions well into the midnight hours, over drinks, cigarettes, grief, and with a sentiment of loss. I grant you, they've also come on the tailwinds of happy smiles and laughter; where the, subjective, truth of friendship has been presented with the brightest of honest and left little but merriment in its wake. The question remains however and, the bigger question of 'What do I want in the people I know?', still continues to loom in reflections on a sun bleached windshield.

It, much like the question of 'What is love?' and 'What is Faith?' is a remarkably personal question. It doesn't so much have a right answer in the grand sense of the word, but rather a micro-cosmos of factors and personal sentiments that are important to consider and deadly to ignore. It, like the other questions mentioned, also have one important factor in common, and it's really the part that should be understood first, less the questions become rather moot.

In order to have good friends you must know yourself.

This point isn't given some grand, grammatical, sentiment for no reason. You are the central figure in every area of your life. You are the thing that acts and, by the very nature of physics, causes reactions. You are the person you bring to every situation, the thing every area of your life will forever have in common. You have to know what you think. You have to know what you feel. You have to know what you believe and, just as important as all three of these things, you need to know why these are the truths you hold to -- and you have to be willing to accept they just might be wrong.

If you do not take the time to know, understand, and love that person, then anything and everything you bring to the table will, in some way or another, end up being a fraudulent misrepresentation of who you are as an individual. There are ways to make relationships being a person like this, but they don't present much in the ways of longevity. It's a house with a cracked foundation, where the tenants are all foreign to one another, no matter how many conversations they might have.

I will go on record to say it's not impossible to having a meaningful relationship with a stranger. All manner of adventures are possible among the company of people you don't know. You might take road trips on trains, or share sandwiches by the river. You might commit multiple crimes on a midnight burn to the ocean, listening to dogs respond to threats of being turned into Chinese food. You might simply extend a kind gesture and never sit around to be thanked. These are all relationships, albeit brief and with a well defined end point, but are they friendships?

In order to answer that question among strangers, you have to be willing to ask it of yourself. What makes a friendship? How do people define what makes a good friend? Is it someone who is always there with a kind word and a soft blanket? Is it someone who will tell the truth, even if the know it'll cut you deep? Is it a person who says nothing but always brings the party? If you don't know yourself it becomes impossible to know what you want. It's like serving food to someone you've never met, you don't even know what they like and there's a very good chance they're going to take your love and hard work just to toss it on the floor because  they don't like it. How can you determine what makes a good friend if you don't know what it is you want?

I know, the statement has been repeated a lot, but that's not for my benefit. Pay attention damn it. Knowing yourself is important.

Don't get me wrong, that first step, the one where you get to meet yourself, is not an easy one. It will be one of the most awesome and empowering things you've ever done. It will also likely terrify you. It's frightening to understand yourself in an honest light, to know what you're capable of and to know what it is you are actually capable of doing.  Admitting your faults makes them no less easy to fall into, you just better learn to put up signs along the side of your road -- things like: Warning, Surface Freezes Before Deck. These are important markers but, in no way will they prevent you from all of your own pitfalls.

Once the investment in yourself has been made, finding 'good' friends really isn't as complicated as it often seems. People have an uncanny gift for drawing in the things they want but, again, the importance of knowing yourself cannot be understated. If you're not aware of who you are then how can you be aware of what it is that you are projecting out into the universe around you? In essence, the person you know is the person you project. The person you project, if a stranger to you, is likely not going to draw you in the kinds and types of people you would want to meet.

Be confidant and humble about that person too. Yes, accept that who you are is good, so long as that who is the who you want to be in the present. Understand that you owe the good life you lead, which is a guarantee if you're being who you are, is something that you are responsible for bringing to yourself. Don't take it for granted, don't ignore it if it's not what you want, don't blame shift.

You are the lowest common denominator of your own existence. You are the thing to which all other things in your life are related. You are, in every situation, in some way, responsible for how you have ended up and what has happened to you. That  needs to be owned and accepted, in both positive and negative lights, as often as possible. Reflect on your life, see if it's bringing you where you want to go, see if you're helping yourself to get there, and understand where you need to do some work. Be willing to accept that you are not perfect, but never surrender to the notion that you're not capable. Strive always for better, and give yourself quarter only when reasonable. Don't cheat yourself out of the person you could become, just because it's easier.

Now, personally, I find that applying these same values to friendships (or any relationship really) is really the best way to ensure a positive, stable, and happy rapport. Tell people you like them, or love them, or appreciate them, and tell them why. Tell your friend you really love the way she carries herself with an unabashed panache, or your server that she's so on the ball with her drink suggestions and you really appreciate it. Tell your lover why you love them, tell your friends how important their friendship is  to you, but never neglect the why.

The 'Why' of the matter is where we find the honest humility in who we are. It's an acknowledgement of values, placed raw and laid bare, because it needs to be done. It's a respect shown, with zero expectation of return -- and never a harsh word spoken against the understood standard. It's what keeps us grounded in who we are, because we know why we think what we think and are willing to ask the question during the occasional personal review of ourselves. It is the question that makes us both great and small, and reminds us that it's important not to be in the way of our own why. Life is too short for that kind of betrayal.

So answer the why, of 'Why am I a good friend?' and be honest with yourself. Tell yourself the truth about the values you uphold as sacred in that bond, and never shy away from stating them. Tell people when they meet them, that you appreciate it. Tell people when you feel they've overstepped or mistreated a situation. Be fair, listen to be equal, and take great care when forming conclusions without first having a discussion. You might miss something wonderful, just because you were too caught up to be on the level. Don't be petty, don't rely on third party information. Be direct. Be responsible for the friendship, because that's the only way to prove it means anything to you at all.

So what does it mean to be a friend? I can't answer that specifically, because the answer is uniquely intimate to the person asking the question. You need to know your values and represent them accordingly. You need to be honest with yourself your wants and desires from the interactions you share, and you need to be willing to establish a generally unwavering standard on that position. When someone shows themselves to you, believe them -- but always be ready to be surprised. People have a knack for doing an awful lot of growing.

Beyond that? Acknowledge yourself. Acknowledge your friends. Be a present gift. Be observant. Be attentive. Be honest, and willing to say no. Hold fast to your standard, but never mistake it for expectation. Be wary of jaded judgements or the context of your past clouding your present. Know yourself and be willing to accept that no relationship is perfect, not even the one you have with yourself.

The people for me and the people I am for, a poetic essay for the curious.

The people for me and the people I am for:
a poetic essay for the curious.

It's been said, by many a wise mind, that you must know the people you are for, those to whom your character suits. You must also know the people that are for you. This has been heavy in my mind tonight, and so, I have decided to explain what it means, to you, and to myself.

It's been said that the only ones for me are the mad ones; the blind hellions, drunk on adventure, screaming their mind with  loud voices. It's been suggested for me the degenerates, freaks with a real sense of self and no quarter given to their temple. There's also been the notion that the people I am for are real twisted fuckers, people with stopped up ears and eyes stapled shut, people with heavy souls, people with rocky shores, people who need lighthouses to go home and yellow brick roads to lead them back to their own hearts. It's been suggested I'm ill suited to mass consumption, that I should be taken with caution and considered with care.

I say it's a pretty terrible thing to be compared to taking brown acid and Jonestown kool-aid.

The people that are really for me? They're the ones with loud voices, even if they shake. The people for me aren't mad, so much as lustful for life. The people for me give care and caution to world, and often to the  wind. The people for me are afraid, but admit it, and stare it down with self-righteous fury. The people for me come in many shapes and many sizes. Some carry bruises, others have a suitcase full of bad memories and a head full of horrible nightmares. People for me even show up with forged smiles, a monument to all the things they're trying to hide, and others show up with a shoebox full of snapshots, and a litany of reasons why they can't leave them behind.

The people for me are who they are, despite their reservation about it. The people for me set their sights and follow them with fervent excitement. The people for me are the ones who stand behind their convictions with a sense of pride, the ones prepared to listen and be wrong, the ones who aren't afraid to stare into the dark. The ones for me are the ones who don't believe in dying, but constantly shedding -- hermit crabs of a rather temporal variety who understand that, though the ride might be frightening, it's okay to close your eyes, you just have to keep hanging on. The people for me stand tall in their shame and glory, and come at it unabashedly and with seasoned vigor. The ones for me aren't the ones afraid of falling down, but they're afraid of not being able to get back up.

The people I am for? The curious risk taking fools who agree to step on the ride, are only allowed to do so if they bring a hat. There's a warning up front: Danger, it reads. It just might get loud.

The people I am for are the ones who queue up regardless of the hazard, the ones who already know the rules about strapping in; it's only to be done in the presence of genuine terror, and this also illustrates why the hat is so important. They understand why masks, regardless of shape, size, or color, are strictly forbidden. These are a hazard to other rides and, if you're found to be in possession of one, your ejection from the ride will be swift and unpleasant. They're the people who know the ride is crazy, and they're the ones who get off at the next stop.

The people I am for, are timid people, but brazen enough to stand in their own spotlight, even just for a minute. They are the people who will come and go, sometimes passing like strange ships passing on even stranger tides. They are people who accept their own fragility and bow out, their humility still in tact. They are people to whom I serve an entirely alien purpose, and when it's over? When it's over it's over.

Then, of course, you have the whole section of people who fall into an entire different category: People I should avidly avoid.

These people are the snake oil salesman of the modern era. They're the ones who claw and scramble their way to attentions, charlatans, and escorts straight into the deepest levels of hell. These are people who will swear by good intentions, swindle  from an ethical platform, and engage in primitive rituals, designed for the single, sinister, purpose: Casting a spell of fog and self deceit

These people should be noted for the unscrupulous sharks they are and identified at once. They're the people who peddle you cut rate promises and prices to good to be true. They're the dishonest dream dealers, and they're lower than the caricature of used car salesman. They will not hesitate to cheat you, it's in their very nature to be dishonest. They will attempt to appear as though they share your harmony, and they will never disagree with you for fear of losing your interest. They are people ill content to stand in the light, but ever seeking a shadow. They're a social vashta nerada, and they won't stop until you're a skeleton in a suit. They're a bad echo, coming from a deep well long since visited.

These are the people who will exit the stage in a huff of disgrace, and they'll likely try and tart it up as honor. They're people unwilling to take the hit from the frustration, just to follow the high road to which they claim to aspire. These are people who have fallen off, what they see, as the highest road and they have no real intention of ever getting back on again. These are the people will claim to leave with dignity, and these are people who will continue to  track that same, rotten smelling, shit where ever you let them walk.

It doesn't matter who you are, you will be one of these three people. Two types of you will form a venn diagram, with the third being notably absent and removed. Of those two groups, those who I am fit for, and Those who are fit for me, there will be some overlap. It's this ovoid figure,  where the magic really comes together. It's there where the right people live. It's here where the music's always running, the lights are always on, and home is always found.

These people are not exclusive to any one creed or archetype either, and that's a very real part of this whole idea. These people are not just mad screamers and risk takers, nor are they just people who stand up and simply are. For all their intentions, for all their purpose, they understand that none of us will remain unscathed. They understand that the ride is a ride, and should be enjoyed. They understand the fragility of permanence and the permanent encapsulation of a moment that can forever come from a song. They're people who's memories ring out like ballads. These are people who exist in your life, regardless of position and meaning, who don't have to have a point, but aren't afraid to ask why either.

..And they're not just for me either, they're for you too.

They're for everyone. They're the people who hear your song and add to it, making it brighter than better than before. They're the people who can talk about the 'good old times' and understand that tomorrow's just as good -- if not out and out better. They're the ones who step into your life and stay with you and, even if they're mad, even if they're not there forever, bring a real sense of magic  to your life. These people might even scare you, and you might scare them. You might be a messiah, you might be an otherwise ignored pip on a timeline of infinity. They might follow you to the end, or they might want to get off, but they'll be there to make some real magic when they're about.

Just make sure you know yourself otherwise, these people, those people, and all people, are forever going to made up imaginings of a frightened, dishonest, mind.

Don't do that to yourself, that's awful.

The Truth about The Future

The Truth about 'The Future'
And the tragedy of not having one

So, two thousand and twelve is over. For most everyone I know, this last year was a clusterfuck of bad news, worse times, and some seriously twisted politics. The whole world seemed to get caught up in a series of bad re-runs with each headline getting more depressing than the last. There was a series of coup d'etes of every make and model, bombings, fires, deaths, and the discontinuation of the Encyclopædia Britannica. We lost the first man on the moon, a handful of nobel winners, and an all around  treasured collection of athletes, authors, artists, engineers, and strangers. Sure, we landed on Mars, opened the tallest building in the world, had a man break the sound barrier without any kind of mechanical assistance -- but lets be reasonable and not ask anyone to remember that. However, to me, as a day-to-day, news reading, God fearing, apolitical, debaucherous, cynic, none of what made the headlines was anywhere near as disturbing as the news which I found among a large collection of my peers.

There are things that, to me, appear to be universal truths; not everyone will ever agree on everything, getting laid will always be a better time than paying taxes, people will break almost any law that is made, simply because the law exists to break, and there's always a chance for tomorrow, no matter what the implications of Carpe Diem, in its entirety, suggest. In the last year though, I have met people who seem to feel quite the opposite of the latter and that has made for some loud and serious thinking. Are there really people out there who genuinely feel like there's no future, and I don't mean in some, trumped up, disenfranchised, existentialist, 'the world is shit and I am nothing' kind of way, but people who really feel, think, and believe that there is no future? Now that's a fucking nightmare; a genuine modern tragedy of the era, and something I don't believe should be forgotten.

How does one end up with such a void of hope? You might think it's fear, which makes a lot of sense. The world seems to be  a place no one is happy with, at least not with spectator sport politics and seven hundred recalled channels of pharmacy grade Soma, so having hope might seem like a one way trip to depression  and bleak sunrises. I could swallow that and sleep at night, even if I didn't condone it. I could even handle a general sense of apathy, where people just didn't give a shit about tomorrow. There really wasn't much I could have heard as an answer and not sleep through unless it was the genuine belief that the future just wasn't there -- and that's exactly what I got. 

These weren't people who were living in destitute squalor either, but rather those who lived somewhat royally by common standards. They are people who have little worries in the affairs of shelter, or sustenance. These are people who have no shortcomings in the affairs of friendship, companionship, or family. These aren't people who are living in the midst of a constant pissing contest by warlords, or who are even harried by modern political themes. They're not poor, they're not living in bad neighborhoods, and they have a constantly queued collective of faithful practitioners ready and willing to lay down their time and tribulation to see these people's days filled with whatever manner of merriment they choose.

They are people who, for every angle I'm aware, and by their own testimony, have a life most of us long for as part of our cultural heritage. These are people who are living the true dream of life, chasing happiness however they see fit, and holding nothing back, and yet they speak of their own lives, their futures, with a sense of void that no words could begin to articulate. The genuine truth I heard was that there was, at the end of the day, only the end of the day -- and that idea has left me in nightmares nearly every night since.

I wanted to write it off as some kind of rebellious, anti-cultural, culture. I wanted to think of it as some kind of trite, neo-punk, or quasi-goth, anti-hipster, mindset. It would have been a lot easier to sleep if I'd been able to convince myself that was true. Believe me, I tried. Indulging in all manner of inhumanities and depravities, and trying to come up with some kind of twisted, crazed, half-drunk, logic that could make it all seem reasonable. The further the chorus shifted, no longer limited to the ranges of fringe elements of the world, the more I quickly realized jut how far this went. No amount of drinking or insomnia would wash this horrible mess away.

So what does one do, when they genuinely believe in a future, when presented with this sort of thinking? What do you do with all manner of people, from 'counterculture' to 'blue collar', start touting off about the pointless idea of future, momentum, or any slight semblance of hope? What do you do when you encounter people who are in stations most us would dream for, at least in principle, sit around and tell you how you're a damn fool for even thinking about tomorrow? Well, I'll tell you exactly what you do.

You see, life has a very real way of giving you what you give to it. If your days are filled with a blasé attitude about life, never giving credit to the wonders about you or tipping your hat to the bullets of existence you've managed to dodge, then it doesn't come as such a painful shock that the world holds no future for you. It's no different, really, than those people who spend their lives in a constant train wreck of failures because they're forever neck deep in their own bullshit. You have to keep going for tomorrow.

You have to have wants that you don't stick in a shoebox or block yourself away from because of the self-apparent hypocrisy of your own personality. You stop sitting around lamenting your closet fetishes for people you publicly deride, you bring them home and you fuck them with a wild abandon. You let go of your previous partners who've well moved on and stop making excuses as to why they're holding you back. You sit down in front of a mirror and you give up all your issues about gender and sexuality. You tell the secret object of your affections how you feel. You quit drinking, you do the thing you've always wanted to do, because that is your future.

You quit lying to yourself, you quit making excuses that make you seem justified in your inaction, you do that because you've already heard the biggest bullshit on the matter of stasis any of us are ever going to hear. You have to understand that it's stasis that kills the future. It's not a lack of hope, it's not a lack of want, but a lack of life and growth that kill the future. It's a denial of direction, for reasons that I will never even attempt to understand, that will break down the future. It is the fire of our passions that lights the way we will travel and without those things, either because we convince ourselves we cannot have them, that they are wrong, or whatever justification it is we give ourselves, we do, indeed, have no future.

Life is not bullshit unless all you feed it is bullshit. Think about yourself, think about your life, right now. Think about your aspirations, think about where you always wanted to see yourself, and then think about all the bullshit you've invented to keep yourself there. Now, think about the people who won't see a future, who can't because they choose not to at all. Look back at your bullshit, look at that choice. Take a good long look and consider this:

Those who admit to the choice of not having a future? At least they're being honest.

A Generation without Heroes:

A Generation without Heroes:

Because everyone's just too scared to be one.

So, the election is over. It's going to be another four years of bellyaching, cock-blocking, and elevated racial tensions -- and I don't think any of that was dependent on who won or lost. I actually waived my rights as an American citizen this year, and opted not to vote. Why? I didn't like any of my choices, for anything. The democratic process of representation is designed to maximize the happiness of all by finding a candidate best suited to the needs of its people and I, this year especially, find myself harshly at odds with what those needs are, and what is 'best' for the country in which I reside. This isn't at all an uncommon event, but I find it's much more starkly painted in recent months than it has been in quite some time.

With election time looming and life taking all kinds of twisted spirals, I shut myself down from the technological world. I spent a near month without the use of text messaging, Facebook, or any other kind of social interaction that didn't involve an actual voice. I sat down and talked with the furthest lefts and rights I could find, I sought out the middle, I had conversations about damn near every candidate I could find, and all I heard was the same speech of controversy. Whatever side was speaking was right and whatever side the opposed was going to be the downfall of America. The context of stances didn't even seem to matter, it was listening to people prattle on about their favor sports team, how the games were all rigged and how the pitcher on the opposing team was an absolute piece of human trash, and likely some kind of uppity race traitor.

It seemed, without question, that the politics of my generation had become a spectator sport, where the issues in question were no longer 'What is best for my country?', but instead 'What is best for my team?'. Politics, to me at least, seems to have become less about the advancement of a people, and more about a new league of fantasy football, where it's always the red team vs. the blue team. 

It was a cluster-fuck of social issues and contextual statements that illustrated something fundamentally more important to me than the political anchoring in this country. What I saw, what I heard, what I came to understand, left me with a stronger sense of self than I've had in quite some time, and with it, I found a rushing surge of words - words I chose to leave silent until after the dust storm of wolf-crying had been settled as much as it likely will be in the next four years.

Politics, to me, seems to be the dirty business of decision making for a people in how they are perceived by those who do not reside in their country. It's for people who are willing to look at what will make their country a stronger, safer, better, place to live in the world. It's about brokering deals, shady handshakes for peacekeeping and propping people up only to knock them down later.

So then, the 'issues', so it seems to me, are just one giant Jack-a-lope hunt. People have built issues out of gender and sexuality equality, about the right to marry whoever you damn well please, and how it's your legal right to force people to abide by your way of living that it's what elections have become all about. Do you like God, guns, believe that marriage is between a man and a woman only, and have some kind of secret agenda against any kind of tolerance? Do you have questions about God, tout your opinions about marriage equality and make demands that all people are, in fact, equal and should be treated as such? Congratulations, you're a card carrying member of political stagnation.

These issues about gender and sexuality equality, these issues about what's the right way to conduct ourselves as a people. the fact that we have to turn these things over into a political arena -- and one nobody seems to like the way it's going or run, no less -- seems just utterly fucking absurd to me. You want to have a country where everybody can hold hands, hug, love, and agree that nobody's any better than anyone else. That's amazing, that's great, that's the way it should be - and yet your solution is to hand it over to a bunch of people who really don't ever do a whole lot to act upon that for you? That makes about as much sense as shooting yourself in the foot, then pricking yourself in the finger with an infected needle.

We live in a country where a 'sense of 'equality' and 'political correctness' has become absolutely crippling. We've been mainlining tolerance into the veins of the up and coming generations to the point we've clipped their wings in the interest of keeping the playing field as level as we can. We're all so chicken-shit scared of being able to sort out any of our own problems, that we turn them over to politicians and then make elections all about social issues plaguing the country -- and I think that's a large part of the problem

It is not a presidents job to give his blessing to gay marriage, no more than it has any place being drafted into any kind of law. The only reason that this process exists in modern culture is because we've all gotten so lawsuit happy over the affairs of political correctness and, instead of letting these issues go and ignoring the would-be-terrorists of these social agendas, we continue to propel a system that seems more and more interested in fixing a social system with tax dollars and less about being people with a whole lot less sticks stuck up our asses.

I'm frankly worn on seeing people winning elections on the platforms of God and Equality. The principle tenets of America, at least if you were to poll it's base population, are freedom and equality, but there's a catch to that. These same people, even those whom I admire, revere, and respect, all seem so hung up on enforcing it, that is not longer what they've been striving for at all. It's not freedom when you have a law in place to govern it, or when you have seven billion safety nets dividing a country on the grounds of race, creed, gender, religion, background, the number of children we have and are unable to support - and so on.

Social issues are not the problem of the government, they're the problem of the people. Sure, you need protections in place that prohibit crimes of rape and murder, across all platforms, and you're damn right to throw the fucking book at anyone still willing to me motivated by such ignorant factors in a crime, but when you start singling out the factions for special treatments and rights, in this day and age, you're really just driving the wedge of dissent deeper and deeper among the people.

Everyone has the right to be a human, to be protected, to get an education, get a job, slave away until they hayday of dried up social security and piss away the rest of their days staring out a window taped up with greeting cards from last years Holiday - and maybe, just maybe, doing it with your spouse in the eyes of whatever new or old God or Goddesss you've chosen. That's your American right. That's the freedom you have by living here. It doesn't matter your gender, your skin color, who you like to take to bed, or what you think about anyone else - and that's the catch.

You want your parades and your equality speeches? Fine, but you have to let everyone have them. We live in the information age, an age where every last shred of love, hate, inhumanity, and hope can all be found in a search bar and a few clicks of a touch-pad. Supposedly that bullshit needs to be okay. I call shenanigans on that and suggest that it needs to be less about teaching compassionate people to walk on eggshells, while those who seek to separate themselves are issued jackboots nobody wants to stand up to anymore, and more about getting people to have their opinions without having to be right all the damn time.

It's a nation of judge all, but don't judge me, a place where everybody has the right to be somebody, as long as you're not like everybody. It's a nation where you're identified more by who you vote for, who you fuck, and what you think about your gender than by what you want to do for the world. The merit of a companion is no longer held in account on matters of worldly goodness, but rather is asphyxiated and fucked in some trashy novel sold on new stands everywhere - and the protagonist is a real likeable asshole who happens to agree with everything you say even if it's only to shut you up.

You want to make your country better, you want to stop seeing your election go by the wayside you can't stand? Stop making them circuses about social issues that are things you, as American people, should be fixing on your own. Grow as a people, get over the fact that who you fuck doesn't make you special, nor does what's between your legs. Let go of the fact that skin color is even a consideration in your daily life, or that you may or may not believe in the same God as everyone walking down the street. In short? Make the world better by making issues out of less, standing up for equality for everyone, and quit adding taglines to further fictionalize a sense of unity among a people who've never been more separate.

Be a hero - and be damned with always being politically correct.

The Truth about Re-Writes

The Truth about Re-Writes:

and why nobody really gets any

So, I haven't written anything in months and the damn book was slated to be out in April. I knew that wasn't going to happen, and no amount of encouraging words, pressing phone calls, or demands that thing hurry up and get done could really rush the thing along. There was too much to write that hit too close to home. The book needed a piece about death and then, right as I was poised to really get a firm grip on what that meant, my Grandmother passed away. How the fuck are you supposed to write about death when one of, if not the most, influential people in your life has suddenly departed for greener pastures at the behest of black rabbits? The truth of the thing is, you don’t.

You sit there, and you stare at the paper. You chain smoke and drink whiskey, you stare off into space, looking through some twisted haze, and you hope that the fog lifts soon and the words come back. Of course you try writing anyway because what better time is there, after all, to try and capture the spirit of what you’re trying to say than when it’s right there in front of you. You hate every damn word you write and you feel like you’re committing the most damnable injustice in the history of time. You tear up the paper, turn the music up, and stiffen the drink. That’s what you do.

Then, because you’re a writer and have no real choice but to write if you want to hang onto that title, you try again. Still, you get nowhere and everything becomes a re-write. You re-write it again, and again, and again. Still, you’re not doing it right. More drinks follow and you stare at the city lights against the night sky. You say the things you should have said, you admit that you miss that sense of someone in your life, and wander around in the jungle, just trying to find your rhythm.  Nothing seems to work and you feel like you’ve lost it, so, what do you do?

Sensible, perhaps healthy – though I wouldn’t say that – people, would say this is when you just set it down, set it aside, and let the grief work its way through you however it’s going to. “You can’t fight it,” they say, and I don’t believe them. Everyone tells you it will pass, and you know they’re wrong. Things like that don’t pass, they change you. You are not the same as you were with them in your corner, because there’s nothing more than can give you, yet you’re expected to carry on as if nothing’s changed.

So, you sit down to write again. You put a cigarette in your lips and your hands to the paper. That doesn’t work so you try the keyboard again. You’re still deleting everything because the event in front of you is bigger than you even know how to begin capture. You’ve just got to stare at it and re-write it again – and that’s when it hits you: Life doesn’t give you a chance to re-write anything.

That’s the kind of thought that hits like a ten ton truck and leaves you gasping with guilt and a serious lack of oxygen – and it should. It’s one of those jarring epiphanies that you’d almost rather forget as soon as it happens, but the trouble is that you know you can’t. This is one of those things that you’re supposed to hold onto and remember; one of those painful lessons that you’ve been taught over and over again and it’s being retold to you in the most nightmarish way you can possibly imagine.

Nobody gets a re-write. There are no do-overs or Mulligans. There are no rain-checks. There’s no such thing as a snow day, and they won’t reschedule a game just because you’re sick and can’t be there. Life is a one way trip down one way roads with no U-turns, at least not yet. This entire piece is a prime example of this; there are no stops, no re-writes, no second guessing the words. They are what they are, and will stand as they stand. This is dealing with death, on its terms, and I see no other way to do the damn thing justice.

This the last lesson of death, and one we often don’t get to really appreciate – unless you’re one of those people who clings to the feverish hope of reincarnation and another shot at the prize – is that, when it’s over, it’s over. Your life is done. You’ve run your course and it’s left to a jury of your peers to decide the type of life you’ve lived. Have you been the hero they all remember, the kind of person that gets buried in stories told through tears and smiles or, worse yet, have you left behind a room full of strangers who’ve only got snapshots, and not even enough to fill a scrap book?

It occurred to me then, that maybe this is why it is advised one “stop and smell the flowers”, I then thought that such a thing was only partially true. Yeah. You’ve got to make sure you enjoy what’s there, but stopping? That’s an absolutely insane idea. You can’t stop on this road because, when you stop, the ride’s over. Why rush towards such a thing, least of all when there’s so much to get out there and do?

The woman who died, she often lived her life in a way that wasn’t getting out there and doing. I understood it in a lot of respects. She was aging, in failing health, and had been in enough pain to see her properly doped up and drained of all motivation. Even when she wasn’t in the hospital, she was like this, and it seemed to be the way everyone around her was used to seeing her.

She was the constant vigil in the bay windows, looking out over the driveway and waving you goodbye. She was the silhouette in the Christmas lights, and the woman who smelled like candy and cursed like a drunken sailor. She was the woman who rarely went out, but always had money for the kids and Grandchildren when they came over. She was there every time you were sick, making you your favorite food and buying you toys. She was there, always, sitting just on the other side of the windows, waiting for you to come inside and warm up.

She took a lot of flak for these things. Everyone always wanted more for her, and it was understandable. She was a woman who did a lot for everyone around her, and they always wanted her to give to herself. That never really worked out at all. She kept on with it, all the way to the very end, smuggling candy for all her visitors way more than she was for herself.

I spent a lot of time thinking about this the last few months, spending too much time with the God-Awful, southern heat, trying to really figure out what could bring someone to that kind of conclusion. What could make someone really sit there and decide to live for someone else and how could someone who’d been so important in shaping me have a perspective that was so contrary to my own? I’ve finally figured it out. The last lesson of a woman who was more brilliant than she knew is what I’m about to share with you.

Life’s a thing to be lived, and it doesn’t really matter how anyone else thinks you’re doing it. It’s yours to make of it in the way that you think is right, that makes you the happiest. If that’s being a kind person who sacrifices again and again so that those around you can be happy? If that’s really who you are, do it. It’s really that simple.

It doesn’t really matter if anyone approves, or agrees with it – and don’t read into this as a rational for being some selfish fuckwit or serial rapist, there’s no hope at all for you bastards and if you’re miserable? Well, I can’t say you don’t have it coming. Moving on.

It doesn’t matter if anyone approves of your life, so long as you do. Nobody needs to understand it, or even like it, so long as you’re doing what you know to be the right thing. Take your moral ground and defend it to the death, just don’t use it as a staging ground to attack. Be who you are and love the way you love, feel the way you can and share it however you damn well please. Live your fucking life in a way that makes you feel like you’ve accomplished what you’re here to do, and do it every damn day.

If you find something that doesn’t work for you, fucking change it. If you find something that does work for you, fucking hold onto it until it doesn’t. Don’t be afraid to change lanes, but don’t feel like you have to either. If you’re happy with where you are, then you’re where you should be. Even if everyone around you sees you as miserable, sad, and alone, you hold your damn head up and you keep right on going. Keep your eyes open and be ready to shift gears, but only do it because you want to.

Again, and I can’t stress this enough, only because you want to. That’s the key principle in making it work. You’ve got to only change yourself to suit you, regardless of what pressures those around you might throw at you. Hell, even if they’re thing that might be good for you, stick to the fact that you’ll only take the change when you’re good and damn ready. It doesn’t matter if you can’t hear well, those fuckers can shout. You’ll get the hearing aids when you’re ready and the air will be there when you need it.

This is how she lived her life, how she taught me to live mine, and I can’t thank her enough for it. She taught me the importance of not just living life, but living at whatever speed you wanted. She taught me the value of being who you were, no matter what anyone had to say about it, and this, as I see it, is the very essence of the lessons in death.

It’s a time to look back in the rear view mirror, if just for a second, and look at all the turns you could have taken and didn’t – the catch is you’ve got to look back forward again and be happy with where you are too. This won’t always be the case – hindsight is 20/20 after all – and that’s okay too. You’ve just got to keep moving forward and look for somewhere else to take yourself.

You can’t go back and take the other trail, but you can plan another route. You can’t turn it off, but you can change the channel. You can’t stop the music, but you can find a new melody. You can’t stop the words, but you can find a new voice. That’s what it’s all about. You’ve got to just keep going and change course in motion. If you stop, it’s over. Slow down if you’ve got to but, for the love of whatever you worship, do. Not. Stop – at least not unless you’re good and damn ready to get off the ride right where you are.

You’ve got to keep you chin up and, though you sure as Hell don’t have to be calm; it really does pay to get a good look at what you love. Keep a list of it, if that’s what it takes. Find what you love in life and don’t be afraid to change it. Be who you want to be, and love that person too. Hang onto it. Appreciate it. Cherish it, because there’s going to come a day when you’re not around to have it.
Most of all though?

You’ve got to love life, because it’s yours.

However you do it, do it right because, like I’ve said before – nobody gets a re-write.

How to really make lemonade:

How to really make lemonade:

A bit of wisdom about life.

Life’s a pretty strange goddamned place. It’s a series of events, some fortunate, others, arguably, not so much. It’s a constant period of learning, trails, and tribulations to which everyone seems to have their own bit of wisdom. Everyone knows the saying “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” – And I think this is a great quote. It’s teaching you to take something which, in a variety of contexts, could be viewed as negative and turns it into something a lot more positive. There are, however, things which I think we are not taught in our average, every day, lives, and that’s what I’m going to write about today…tonight…whatever.

Sure, when life hands you lemons, it’s important to understand how to shift your perspective and turn it into a positive. What about those moments when life reads like a terrifying movie from your childhood? What about those moments when you’ve set yourself up to carry on in the calmness of your existence, to buckle down and work hard and something comes along and just says “You think that’s what you’re doing? No you’re not. This is life; you don’t get to make those decisions right now. This is what happens and you have no choice what-so-ever but to deal with it, and deal with it Right. Now.”

So many people are honestly trained to ignore those moments, to ignore those basic, simple, responses that are powerful enough to physically manifest themselves over the entire scope of your body. Everyone uses them in allegory, and you’ve all heard them. Think about it. “His blood ran cold.” “Her heart skipped a beat.” “Her blood boiled with rage.” and so on. They are examples of such metaphor and they are used all throughout literature.

Every media spectrum we have has shown us these things. In literature, we see it in some of the examples above. Even in film, even in commercials, we’re bombarded with these concepts. It honestly seems, to this writer, however, that this had led to an unfair desensitization to these feelings. We’re taught to ignore these very basic and primal responses, unless, of course, we have to rationalize them as generically bad, or a way for us to plug a product, and I’d like to take a moment to offer a different perspective.

I would like to put forth the idea that these responses are not always bad. They come in all shapes, all sizes, all lengths of time; from the longest five minutes of your life, to the entire rest of your life. They can mean all kinds of things, but if there’s one thing I have found to be true about them, it’s this: It does not pay to ignore these things ever, any more than it does to fight them, and, above all else, it never pays to go looking for them either.

These are the moments that life has selected, where you see something, feel something, meet someone, and everything else in your life is given no choice but to stop, because that’s all it can do. All it can do is stop because the sheer scope of what you’re looking at is impossible to conceive if you don’t. However, that being said, it is entirely up to you to acknowledge it and choose to take it in. If you don’t? That’s it. It’s gone. It’ll be back, but never in the same shape.

How do you take something like that in? Honestly, it’s a bit like standing in the surf in letting the wave roll into you. You’ve got to accept that it might knock you over. You’ve got to accept that it might hurt you. You’ve got to accept that you might get some water in your lungs, you’ve got to accept that you might sputter, that you might cough, choke, gag and even vomit, and then you’ve got to accept that fact that it might kill you…and then you’ve got to decide what you’re going to do with that.

I ‘m sure there was a moment where you felt something, maybe it was something just too damn big to stare down, and maybe you had the knee-jerk reaction to get the fuck out of there. If it was the latter, then you really sit down and make sure that’s what’s going on. Look at what frightens you, stare it right in the damn face, and see how scared of it you really are, and then decide. If it wasn’t, if you just saw something you couldn’t comprehend and decided to turn your back on it? Well, then I have no choice but to offer some kind of condolences to you and hope that maybe, just maybe, I can help that not happen to you again in the future.

Sure, when the wave hits, you can kick your feet and scream and run away. What’s that going to teach you? That wave, for whatever reason, was just too big. That’s okay, as long as you’re okay with it, but don’t just leave it at that. Sit down and think about the wave, and what was it that scared you? Why did you run away from it? What was so bad? Was it really as big as you remember? Sit down and really ask yourselves things.

Now, stay with me here, and think for a moment that this metaphor is using the simple example of survival – and then remember what I said about metaphors desensitizing you to these things. Hold onto that thought while you continue reading.

So. You want to live and a big, fuck off, scary wave comes rolling your way. Of course you ran away. Why? You wanted to live. That’s easy enough to accept. Right? Right. The problem is that, even with that metaphor, that justification is just too simple. It’s not that black and white. You didn’t run away from it because it was too big, or might have killed you, because it’s not really a wave. You were dealing with one of life’s biggest bastard of a lemon. You were dealing with fear.

Oh, I know, how can I say such a thing?

‘Fear is so important! Fear is what helps us survive by knowing we’re somewhere we shouldn’t be! Fear is an instinct to run away!”

I’m honestly not going to argue against that logic, because it makes sense. Yes, fear is a survival instinct. It exists in every animal, across every species, regardless of gender, diet, or size. Every animal, which includes humans, has a hardwired understanding of that feeling and what it represents, but there’s one, fundamental, difference between the animal world, and the world of humans: Humans are the only ones clever enough to invent reasons for fear.

We, as a species, manifest in so many forms, using it in all manner of shapes, sizes and colors. It’s something which we can rationalize into any excuse we want, to fit any situation we want, and it’s the only thing we ever really need to talk ourselves out of doing something, out of living life. Yes, life will throw big, bastard, waves at you. It will, no doubt about it, it happens to everyone. Again, they can come in just about every shape and every size as those fear excuses – convenient huh?

These are the moments when it is easiest to use that inventive power, where it becomes simpler to rationalize yourself out of something, rather than to look at it and figure out what to do with it. For example:

You’re going out with your friends, maybe you’re going to see a movie and then you’re all going to skip out for a few rounds of drinks, stumble home laughing, and pass out on your couch because you’ve worn yourself out having fun. The movie wasn’t the greatest, probably some comedy about some strange series of events that used one too many fart jokes for you, but you had a good time with your friends, you made a couple jokes, everybody laughed, you’re feeling pretty good about yourself.

You’ve all been there, I imagine. Now stay with me; this is where it gets interesting.

You’re at the bar, having drinks, laughing or whatever, and you go to get your next bottle because you’re out. Someone steps up to the bar beside you and orders a drink. Maybe it’s the same drink, maybe it’s not. You look over, you make eye contact. It’s brief. There might have even been a smile there – and this is when the world stops.

It might only be for a moment, but you’re standing there running through the list of things you want to say to this person, cross checking them with the one-thousand and one things that could go wrong, and that, as I see it, is where the problem lies.

This is the time when it’s easiest to invent the fear, to find the lemon, to give yourself all the reassurances that you need to shut the fuck up, say nothing, look away, go back to your seat and ponder about who this person might have been for the next two weeks.

Why’d you do that? Why take a bite of that lemon? Were you scared you’d be shot down? Were you scared they would find you boring? Were you worried you’d just say something really stupid and embarrassing? It could have been any of those things, but you know what it really is at the end of the day? It’s that you have no idea if it was any of those things because you didn’t give any of those things a chance to happen.

You took an opportunity and you talked yourself out of it. There could have been something there or there could have been nothing. The fact of the matter really is that you will never know, because life handed you a lemon and you took a big bite out of it. You let your head convince you that your gut was telling you to fuck off with this idea, that it would all end horribly wrong, and that you shouldn’t just bother.

That’s the difference between looking at life and listening to that that gut wrenching understanding that it often gets passed off as – and don’t let me underestimate that. Listening to your gut is important. On the other hand, if you’re never going to give yourself the chance, you’re effectively talking for it anyway, that’s one great way to take that lemon of life and smash it into the bullet you just sent into your foot.

This is the part where some of you might be going: “But wait a minute! I thought you said you were going to talk about how these things could be positive?!”

Hold on. I’m getting to it now, thanks for sticking with me.

Life does not always give you lemons, it does not always rain on you, and it does not always kick you when you are down. Life does not always give you what you want just because you want it. Sometimes, life will give you fresh, sweet, fruits. Sometimes, life will give you sunshine. Sometimes, life will give you exactly what you need to get back up on your feet, and sometimes, just sometimes; it will give you just what you want even if you didn’t know you wanted it.

Some people just think they’re being paranoid, other people just think they’re crazy. What about you, the reader, how many times have you sat down and felt the overwhelming panic for no reason you could justify, or the fierce desire to pursue something with every fiber of your being? Now, out of those times, how many times have you written it off and done absolutely nothing about it? That’s your lemon, and I have a suggestion for you now as to how to make some lemonade out of it.

Yes, the road is long and full of stuff, but that doesn’t mean it’s all bad, or that it has even got a lot of lemons along the way. What life has is fruit, that’s all. Sure, sometimes that fruit is bitter, nasty; maybe it’s even rotten. How much you see of that fruit and whether or not it’s actually bitter depends on how far you’re willing to go to find out.

There are moments, no matter how brief, that life has set in front of you. This is not life kicking you when you are down; this is not life being unfair. This is life giving you a challenge. This is life seeing just how far you’ll go, and how hard you’ll try. This is you, being put in a position where you are going to have your meddle tested and possibly everything you thought you knew about yourself and where you were going be challenged, this is the moment where, at least for now, you find your edge – and this, my readers, is not a bad thing.

To restate my position: Yes, life will, sometimes, lead you to a lemon, but that’s no reason to ignore all the other damn fruit out there just because you’re convinced you might get a lemon. If you do that, you’ll never experience anything new. If you do that, you’re effectively giving up on life, because you’ve convinced yourself it’s just too scary.

Yes, you might get sour bites. Yes, you might get burned. Yes, it might hurt and it might hurt a lot. If you lay down, if you take that, if you pull the blankets up over your head and hide, then you’re choosing to lie with your lemons. That’s your choice.

If you’re willing to look at what’s in front of you, look at the rocks you’re dropping around yourself and climb over them; if you’re willing to put yourself face to face with your fear, if you’re willing to stand toe to toe with a, very real, prospect of pain, if you’re willing to risk something ‘bad’ (because what’s really bad in the long run is terribly suggestive) happening to you in order to find out what’s out there, then you know what you’ve figured out how to do?

You’ve really figured out how to make lemonade and now you only have one thing left to do:
Drink up and enjoy.