The Sounds Inside of Us

My laundry is tumbling down the hall (Indiana Jones style). The ever amusing, hardly efficient, “Comfort Zone” system is spewing heat and lord knows what else. I try to imagine that turning up the dial to “roast slowly to death” will not only serve to heat my room (and escape Clint Eastwood style from Alcatraz), but also kill the dust mites residing in it’s humble abode. No wind. No rain. No snow (take that Michigan!). No weather to speak of. The roommates are out. The appropriately named “Deep Focus” playlist has been cued…And I hear nothing else. I now may write something. Or several somethings should time and conscious amuse.

The beauty of the noise canceling headphones is that one may sit, stagnant, lethargic, uncompromising…And remain unbeknownst to the outside world…What they do not advertise, however…

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Gulp. Crunch. Insert strange guttural noises here. Gulp. Crunch. Slurp.

The sound of your mind! And body for that matter. I tell you, should I ever have to choose my ending, it will not be by the torment of sound produced by my internal organs. I hardly imagine I could wish that on anyone come to think of it. It feels like standing in an old once lived in home after decades have passed it by. It has a way with sound, so haunting and unprepossessing, your nerves simply cannot comprehend it…I also had a burrito for lunch, which may or may not be settling well.

Anyhow. As a constant walker, and public transportation aficionado, as many of us here in Seattleites are, you will notice most of us sport headphones of some sort (read my other blog imantisocialandilikeit.com). And while I could go into an entire article on that alone I will spare you the rant…and actually get to my point of this entry. Which has to do with internal dialogue, and never-ending rhetorical questions. You care don’t you?

I spend most my days worrying. Thinking. Over-analyzing. Complicating. I could write endlessly of the things I am not proud of. And even more so, the many times I could have acted differently and consciously decided not to. I think about the kind of person it makes me. How it hinders the progress of becoming the person I want to be. I debate what true harm I have caused, and where others would have handled the same situation more appropriately. Of course, a great deal of me at least, used to rationalize what others and myself have done simply by terms of moral relativity. Which in itself is wrong. We all should aspire to the same moral code. But I didn’t. Moreover, I selfishly decided that as long as I did not take anyone with me, then what does it matter. And the truth is that none of us has something we aren’t willing to lose. We are all bound together in some way in this world or the next.

What troubles me, is the fact that I had no hope. No plans. No idea. And when you look into the mirror each day, and realize the face looking back at you is your own. And that another day has passed. And another…The moment you figured it all out only took a blink of the eye, and the rest of your life you have…wasted. There is an inexplicable pain that follows.

Then suddenly, you are confronted with something, someone you never even knew was more than you ever dreamed of, more than you thought you deserved, more than anything you never knew you needed. Not only does this emotion exist, but what is attached to it, wants to be part of your life and all that came before it…And that pain I previously spoke of, it burns in such a way you never knew you could feel, over and over again.

Relationships are difficult. People are difficult. Life with or without them are difficult. And pain…is just more simple to accept. It seems to come more steadily. So steady, at a point you seem to forget, or unknowingly ignore that it exists altogether. You can cover it up. Bandage it. Heal it. It reminds you with lovely scars both inside and out, and never truly goes away, but somehow it comforts you. We even begin to call it “humbling”.

As in, it was bound to happen. It needed to happen. You are not by any means allowed to simply be happy! Happiness has conditions! Pain does not…Pain, is what makes you realize you can even reach this idea, this state of being only defined by a confusing, nonsensical expression “I just am”. It’s true. The amount of things in this world that give you pure joy for no reason at all, is ridiculous! It just isn’t right that you can simply enjoy life. Something has to be behind it. Something cynical, and conniving…

When you feel happiness, and you know without a doubt it is what you’re experiencing…My mind decides fear is the first and most logical course of action. Protect yourself. Brace yourself. Prepare yourself. As if you’re the only one who matters, because it is all you have known for how many years. Happiness is about more than one person. It’s about sharing, and loving, and living, protecting and giving. Sure it’s fleeting, and takes work, as all good things do. A big portion of that work is about trust, forgiveness, and understanding. We all have succumbed to pain, and have been overtaken by it. It doesn’t make us bad people, ungrateful or unworthy…It means seeing beyond the surface. Accepting the past, and greeting a future…

I look into her eyes, night after night…And I wonder who she sees. Who she trusts. Who she believes in. I am filled with fear. And regret. I wonder how she can believe in me. How she can encourage me. Day after day. How she can be patient, and understanding. Calm and comforting…I thank her of course. Daily. Though I truly believe she will never know to what depth I am thankful…I have my days, where I do not feel worthy of her, or that I am the kind of person someone should want to start a life with.

I think…And I think…And the world keeps turning. The music keeps playing. I keep walking, listening. I know the man in the mirror reminds me that who I am today is important, not who I was. The dust is settling. The rubble will be rebuilt. I have hope. I have dreams. We may be lost. But with people we love, we are found. We can believe in ourselves again.

And that’s what she does for me.

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We’re Only Human

As I sit at my desk, in my underwear, drinking day old coffee, eating a “sharing size” serving of M&M’s, and raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the Spotify app requiring yet another update…I had an epiphany. As your mind attempts to wrap around the thought of the beginning sentence, most likely determining that it has nothing to do with anything of any consequence neither with the topic of this blog nor of anything remotely relevant or interesting, I ask that you please, bare with me. And more to the point, thank you for excusing the rambling as well as the blatant and shameless use of an inappropriately placed preposition. Also, I apologize to the reader whom has taught me better than this, that has also inspired my writing in the first place…

We are entirely at the mercy of the spontaneity of life, and it’s mysterious jazz like rhythm. So much so, that to form a thought surrounding an idea so unexpected reasonably, that we first must jump to the worst possible conclusion. Good, bad, ugly (sorry Clint), it is preposterous to believe that some things just work. Always a catch, a slight of hand, something that just begs the question…what’s wrong with this picture? (the answer isn’t in the back of the newspaper, but it might be in Cosmo)

I will tell you what is wrong with this picture. The fact that we disregard that we as a species, as humans (and most aliens) are perpetually, inherently, flawed. We accept our shortcomings, our inner demons, even desires for more than we have as bounds to disengage, disappoint, and disempower. We dilute ourselves for the greater good…for ourselves? Who knew being selfless, could be selfish. Shamefully, I admit that I too had generally rather imparted impartiality (thank you english), than embrace personality. And in the last few years, I had grown even more loathsome, increasingly tired of trying to be anything other than myself. So I let it go. I took off my pants. I ate my bag of M&M’s. I drank my day old coffee. And I found out…

Our potential is exponential. And that rhyming is really fun…And that too many “ands” and writing without pants, is perfectly acceptable. As long as you’re you at the end of the day. And no one else. Being someone you don’t know and not wearing pants, while freeing, is widely frowned upon in most settings other than being in your home. The fact that I chose to drink cold, day old coffee, while living in the coffee capital of the country…is just poor form. Not to mention at this moment terrible on my digestive system. The point is, you cannot save someone else the trouble of life by not loving yourself…And you cannot be happy with someone else, until you are happy with yourself.

Also that life no matter from where you have come, has affected you. It has affected me. It affects everyone. No one comes from nowhere. Everyone has a story. A life. A tragedy. A mystery. A success. A worth…No one is perfect. No one has escaped unscathed, untouched. What makes us who we are is how we handle it all. What we make from what life throws at us next. How we move on, move forward, and that we keep moving. We keep searching. We keep on keeping on. Life’s a garden. Dig it. The rolling bird gathers no worm!

Okay okay, you’re probably thinking you’ve heard all this before…Be happy and happiness will follow blah, blah, blah. Oprah has said it every show for the last twenty-five years, and she gave away cars for listening to her…Well, I’m no Oprah but I’ve got something to say.

I’ve met someone. Someone whom has in a short time, become my world, a place and feeling I had never known. On the outside, expressive and obviously smitten, there cannot be a person unaware of my affection for her. Inside, immediately I was afraid. I was petrified. Thinking I could never…*cough* I tallied my score card of achievements, transgressions, good will, ill will, relationships both failed and flourishing. And I thought, and thought and thought. How can I ask someone to look beyond everything I’m not? Who can you trust with your fears, your failures, and the fact that you don’t share your M&M’s? How, more appropriately, can you ask someone to do that? And the answer is simpler than you think…

When you are happy with yourself, you won’t have to. And if you’ve found the right person, they won’t let you.

And I am. And we are. And you will be too.

The Introduction

Well go figure. Who knew, that this of all things would tip the scale from hot…to not. You walk into this scenario thinking of all the possible outcomes, standfast to err on the side of caution, preparing for the worst. One must remember this is a war zone. This is not a date. It’s not personal, it’s business. Take it to the mattresses.

The worst mistake you can make is romanticizing the idea of unknown star-crossed lovers of whom’s fate has been thrust ever together through…the internet. Which incidentally is where I found this…woman. Moreover, if I had actually taken the time to read the profile, it would have told me, it’s not that we’re incompatible, she just doesn’t like The Godfather. The word “picky” may come to mind for some of you readers, but let’s face it.

Internet dating is about as humane as having a smorgasbord of your favorite food, each laced with varying levels of toxin, being told you can have as much or as little as you want, but there’s only one that won’t make you sick. And I’m hypoglycemic.