Sunday Morning Thoughts 8.23.15

So here goes another attempt at this. Consider it the less than grand return.

It’s been over a year- and what a year it has been. Many a time before this moment, the lonely weekly post bearing this title has fallen short, and off track, and unappreciated by its fool of an author. You see, I’m very capable of disappointment, sometimes the sort reaching incomprehensible levels. Not only have a let down myself on a rather regular basis, the pain and heartache I have caused others in this life could border on emotional war crimes.

Yet, there seems to be a sort of insane balance. For as many times as I have been such a great disappointment- expectations were also exceeded and the young man, who is not so young anymore, achieved handfuls of accomplishments that were at the very least good, if not extraordinary. I’ve done a few nice things, while still other humans have thanked me intensely and intimately for actions I deemed to be “no big deal” or “just doing my job”.

So what does that mean?

Mathematically, I suppose that just balances out to average. Sadly, I find that to be immensely saddening, if not disgusting. It is another one of those disappointing personality traits of mine, but being average may be my greatest dread. Even talking about myself this much reflects only on a seemingly selfish nature that puts the rest of the world into categories based upon how they fit into my desires for life. It is narcissistic and vicious, and even worse, I sometimes rather enjoy it.

I cannot say that this has existed for all of human history, as I have only seen a sliver of it- but it seems to me that humans love to believe that things are going to change. They often hope that they will change for the better, but lately I hear folks saying a bit more of the contrary. Actually, a lot more to the contrary. They say the world has changed into a bad place- or from a bad place, into a worse one.

I hear talk about society failing and the world running out of safe places left to go. Some people fear radical Islamic extremists, other people fear rising oceans and climate change, while some are just hiding from the bills they have to pay. There are even those who live in constant terror of what happens in their own neighborhoods. You don’t hear many people talking about sunshine and roses these days. It’s doom and gloom, and in case you haven’t heard it on the news, we’re all going to die. And to make matters worse, a spectacle of business man/reality television goon who inherited his rather lavish lifestyle is attempting to become King America. And a good number of folks think that’s a good idea.

But I don’t need to tell you all of that. You already knew that.

What you may not have known is that today was set as my daughter’s due date. So you know, she has not arrived yet. She may be stubborn, like her father who pushed his own arrival on Earth two weeks past his own due date.

Hopefully she doesn’t keep this up for long. Her father already causes her mother enough strife, we don’t need the little one to push that any further.

Not that her mother can’t handle it. She can deal with most anything. I find it very admirable, when I’m not too busy feeling awful about my own lack of comparable courage. I haven’t had a little human growing inside of me, sucking the energy out every day as the spawn grows larger and stronger. Plus, I’ve still been able to have beer and sushi and soft cheeses which makes my issues seem all that much smaller.

So cheers to the mother of my child, she is a better person than most, especially myself, though she may never admit that. In fact, not admitting it, makes it all that more true.

But her and I can both agree, that we would very much like to meet this little human. I personally have a feeling her arrival will help make every thing seem easier. Other than crying in the middle of the night and soiling her diapers. Still, that stuff doesn’t last forever.

But.

Having a child so close to being part of this world, does not put me entirely at ease. It’s much closer to terrifying. Before all of this, I had set my wee little ambitious heart on trying to change the world for the better. Since that young boy set that goal, it seems to have only gotten worse. He didn’t have anything in this life that he needed to rush into action for. Now he does. Now I do.

No, I am not yet a parent but just the impending occurrence has got me to wondering as to why others seem to do as little as possible to make this future better. Again, I don’t know that their efforts exist or not, or in what intensity they do exist, but if people have been making babies since the first people started happening, and those people only want the best for their children- why has everything gone more and more to shit with each passing generation?

Maybe I’m thinking too much, or in the wrong kind of ways, but I would call myself a failure as a human and more importantly, as a parent, if I left this planet worse than when it was given to me. And no, that’s not just an environmental thing for anyone trying to brand me as tree hugging liberal. And no, it’s not because I think Hilary is just a bad a choice for “leader” of this nation as Trump, for those who might want to think of me as some sort of closed minded conservative. I know how you like to operate, internet.

That being said, I do think we should be kinder to the Earth, if we want to make it last and I do think we should apply a little more intense thought and rationale to selecting our elected officials, no matter how angry and fed up we might be. I do think that all lives matter as much as the people living them choose to value theirs and their neighbors. I think anyone who says their god is loving, but also wants you to kill people is not thinking with their own head. I do think we need to try harder and learn more about ourselves and each other- but I don’t think that this is a unique point of view.

It’s easy for me to stand on the internet soapbox and tell you all about my views, but I don’t intend to stop there. The difference is, that I now have someone to live for that means more than anyone else. She will mean more than any friend, family or romantic relationship has and I owe her the best life I can provide. I owe her a future, as do all of you. If you’ve been alive long enough to spend money or vote, you’ve been alive long enough to help make the changes everyone loves to complain about. I’m guilty, but I am now newly motivated.

I opened this post with an explanation of my great lack of perfection. That is because perfection is a myth, and one of the most harmful myths in all the history of man, (and women). No one is perfect, nor is any place or any time. Perfection is stagnant. Progress and regress are all that exist. Things do not stay, they always change. Yet where they change are up to us. Or so it is for us in the third dimension.

So for my little girl, I will try to make progress.

holderness

Don’t Pet the Sweaty Things

You can stare at the fingerprints on the edge of your rocks glass until they mean something.

You can look at the patterns the light leaves inside your closed eyelids. You can sit and sulk and daydream about things being other than how they are. You can wish you’d done better. Been a better person. Tried harder, or tried something different. You can dwell on all the things that are not, while ignoring the things that are.

You certainly can. I know I have. I’ve gotten very good at it. Too good, I fear.

I know, I know… It’s been a while. A very long while since the last time I’ve written anything here. As a young man, just shy a quarter of a century, it’s hard to believe I’m able to say that I used to write a lot. I’ve written poems and songs and essays and short stories. I’ve written a whole novel, a complete first draft, that I’ve ignored for months. I used to act, too. Lots of plays, funny and sad- Improv too. Hell, I used to do stand up comedy. I opened for someone currently on Saturday Night Live, what seems like a lifetime ago.

Very few men my age get to say such things. Not that it is any sort of blessing. It may only mean that the peak was too soon. That it’s all been used up. That there is nothing left. It may mean that, but I certainly hope is does not. The younger man I used to be most definitely does not. But he might have been better than I am.

Yet…

If there is one thing I was brought up to despise, it is a pity parade. And even with the sacrifices made, willing or otherwise, I am here, at this very particular moment in time. I hold my baggage, as do you, if you happen to be bored enough to read this.

Sensationalism was never my forte, and I cannot pull myself to do a “top ten things that 20 somethings feel about blah, blah blabbity blah”. You know, that shit websites love to pick up and litter across your social media addiction. I won’t be reposted by Huffpo, or Buzzfeed or anything of the sort. I won’t even be reposted by my friends, most likely. Maybe a dozen people will read this. Maybe less. Maybe no one. But I don’t write because it helps other people. I write because it helps me.

A year, and a few days. That’s the last time anything new was published to this lonely blog narrated by a boy struggling to learn how to be a man. A year ago was a different world. My hair was longer and my eyes had seen less than the ones resting in my skull now. I wasn’t obliged to do much for anyone unless I felt the inclination. Not now.

Now it’s my job. It’s my job to help people, strangers, in whatever we’re called for. That would be myself and the men I work with. We never know when the tones go off, and it doesn’t matter what we were doing. All that sound means, is that it is time to go. But that is my profession. That is how I earn my living.

Further than that, is even more profound. Further than that is the only thing that will really matter to me. You see, in a few days, everything will change. In a few days, really at any moment, I will be a father.

Pardon me, that took a moment. I needed another sip and stare at the fingerprints upon my glass. Fingerprints that leave behind DNA. The same sort of stuff that has been brewing another person. A person who is part me, though I hope she will be spared all of my poor qualities, as many as they might be. But I’m not here to talk about her. I won’t speculate about her, as she is not here yet. And I will not talk about circumstances, as they are not business of yours.

Just know that while you read this. To those who are parents, I am only on the cusp of understanding. To those who are not, know that it is not something that you cannot even pretend to understand. Just be grateful if your parents were good to you. And if they weren’t, know that it is the largest burden that our species faces and it is most certainly not for everyone.

But that is enough about that.

I don’t know exactly why this was the moment I chose to write again. It may be desperation. It may be that the time is right to reinvigorate the lost passion. I cannot say for sure. Yet, I am writing just the same.

I don’t have the answers. If you were hoping I did, I apologize. I don’t know if anyone does, but everyone has their own slice of the universe. We all have our own lives. Our own pasts and presents and futures. We mat share many of those, but no one shares them completely. Our singularity may be a curse, but it is the one thing that makes us undeniably human.

I hate to leave this so vague, but I cannot truthfully give you anything more specific. I will keep trying. I will try and keep the promise that I made to a young man who shares the skin I’ve worn down. But all I can do is try, as that is all any of us can do.

If anyone told you they have the answer they are a liar. If they told you that they didn’t know, know that they told the truth. I will try and write again. I cannot guarantee that it will be worth reading. I will guarantee that I will try and make it worth your while.

Until next time.

capandme