The Virginity Entry

This was written a year and a half ago. I’m married now, so it's possible the admission stated in this entry may no longer be true. But it was at the time, and I still want to go ahead and share my thinking from way back in those days.

I am a virgin. That isn't information I share very freely, nor do I think I should. Some things are allowed to be private and probably should be private, at least for some people. But I'm me, and my blog is named what it is, so this is what you get.

My virginity has been a source of shame, and that's probably a big reason why I haven't written this before. Another reason's not to write about it is the fear of getting Tim Tebowed (not tebowing, that's entirely different) - having girls try to sleep with you simply because they know you're a virgin. I also the fear that people will look at me funny for sharing too much, but if I'm honest with myself, I know I crossed that threshold a long time ago.

Back to Tebow for a second. Someone put a million dollar bounty out on his virginity. If that happened to me, I'm not so sure I wouldn't just agree to split the money with the first girl who tried to collect. Guess that makes me a prostitute for the right price...maybe I don't give myself enough credit.

Enough foreplay, let's enter the body of this post.

Being raised a Christian, I of course, pledged to save myself until I was married and used to look down on all the rest of you, as any naïve adolescent Christian lad should. Hell, I wasn't even going to kiss until I was married (an episode of Gilmore Girls ruined that). I was into extreme purity. It was cool (to somebody, I swear—probably Mom) and easy.

What the hell was I thinking? Oh yeah, that I'd meet a girl and get married out of college. That didn't quite happen. I had a wonderful combination of pickiness, shyness, and idiocy that made that a statistical impossibility. In fact, that vast ineptitude at securing a girlfriend has been the inspiration for many a book and screenplay. The material runs deep.

No, I didn't stand a chance of getting laid until at least my mid twenties. Then I spent most of those years overcoming heartbreak because I had finally talked to a girl and that evidently wasn't enough to make her want to marry me. It wasn't until my late twenties that I was officially done with wanting to stay a virgin, but I sucked at getting myself laid, so that didn't really mean anything. Now, my quest to get to the second base continues.

Of course, by this point in life, everything gets way too epic in your head. You can't be denied a dream for decades and not also be driven to madness by your persistent failure to fulfill that dream. At least I can't. I don't know what you can do. I should stop assuming you think like me.

I got to the point where I just wanted to get it over with, cause who gives a shit what it could potentially screw up in me or someone else? It's gotta be better than obsessing over it. Maybe then I could move on and focus on feeding the poor, or reducing my use of plastic grocery bags or something really important like that.

Sadly (or fortunately), I still had pretty specific requirements for who I'd sleep with. I didn't want to take a Christian girl's virginity and mess with her head. I didn't want to have some fairly meaningless encounter with someone I just met. On top of those qualifiers, losing it to an experienced girl was quite intimidating, so I'd need to build some trust and probably explain myself before that happened. This would require at least five dates. In LA, it takes an average of three years to get five dates with one person.

I was probably most enlightened to my shame on a camping trip, a few years back. I found myself sitting in the middle of a sex stories marathon (tell-a-thon?). You know, the one where you keep one-upping each other with crazier places and ways of doing the deed. I dodged the issue as best as I could, only saying I had no great stories, but I felt like an outcast. Flashes of Steve Carell in The 40-Year-Old Virgin danced in my head. Part of me just wanted to admit the truth. Part of me wished the truth was different. I certainly could tell I wasn't proud of being a virgin.

I should be proud. I think I believe I think I believe that...I think..... Shouldn't I? But oh how it eats at me. It feels wrong to be proud of something like that. It feels judgmental. Somehow, I am judging everyone else by being a virgin. It's not even on purpose; I'd totally be up for having sex right now. But in some weird way, I am a failure and an arrogant prick, simultaneously. How dare I be so countercultural?

Somewhere near the core of my shame is a question of manliness. Is it an inability to conquer? Do I feel repulsive? Ignorant? Afraid? Incomplete? Was there an age threshold I reached where it was too late? Did it become no longer acceptable for me to be figuring things out? Do I feel like I can't choose who I want? Do I feel immature? Do I feel like I can't woo who I want? Is there something about me that's wired wrong? Does it make me incompatible? Does it make things impossible?

Can I blame my culture for the shame? I can blame myself for listening to it too much, I guess. I really hate blaming other things for my behavior or thoughts, because so many people use outside influences as justification, and one is still ultimately responsible for their own actions. However, our culture is pretty damn screwed up when it comes to sexual problems. The whole world is. You can start with the simple, obvious, more popular...let's just list things: AIDS, abortion, fatherless children, abused children, rape, human trafficking, a wealth of disorders based on image, between a fifth and a third of all women being sexually abused at some point in there lifetime.

Well shit, if I'm feeling all this pressure to have sex, probably some other people are too, and it appears a few (most?) of those people aren't really fulfilling those desires in healthy ways.

So maybe I should feel good that I haven't contributed to any of that shit. At least not directly. But what have I done by simply playing the role of someone too ashamed to admit they aren't having sex? And what should I do differently? Organize a march of virgins? Let's all band together and show the world we aren't affected by it's sexually-soaked advertising!

God, that sounds so fucking lame. I have to swear right now just to try to get some of my coolness back (it's hopeless, I know). That campaign wouldn't be true anyway. We are all affected by this constant barrage of sex (at least us weak minded people). The culture is so saturated with it, that in its blazon exposure, it has become rather subtle.

So is my life goal now to subtly fight back with hints that it might be OK to not have sex?

I can be a pioneer! I'd leave it to the next generation to bring it to a level of cool. In a few generations, monogamy and full body robes would become the face of advertising and the lifestyle and attire of action heroes.

I don't know that I like that calling. Perhaps I'll just go have sex with someone so I can get out of it. Any volunteers? I can't promise it'll be all that good. (Please don't actually volunteer) *Wendy volunteers.

I'm stupid, but I am smart enough to know I'm stupid. That helps me overcome foolish lines of thinking, eventually. It has only been recently that I have decided to further examine my thoughts on my virginity. If I don't form my own thoughts, I am going to regurgitate someone else's, and that can be extremely stupid. Regurgitating the wrong thoughts, or applying them inappropriately, skews comparisons. Making comparisons to the wrong standards can lead to inappropriate shame. Perhaps that shame will lead to inappropriate actions. Ultimately, I will go straight to hell.

No, I'll go skewed to hell. You can't go straight to hell. You are going there because you are skewed. That is my insight of the day, straight to hell is a misnomer.

This shame removing will require more thought, or more conviction or something. But admitting it is always the first step. Ooo, is that a regurgitated maxim I haven't thought out? No, I'm pretty confident I've found some benefit from this honesty thing.

Sorry everyone who found this awkward or didn't want to read about this aspect of my life. You probably shouldn't have. Sorry also for not putting this disclaimer at the beginning.

Wendy would like me to share some thoughts on this shame thing now that I'm married. But I'll actually address where it went before I was married. I don't know how to discuss the after married part without sharing details of sex itself. I'm honest and open, but I don't think I'll ever be that open publicly. And besides, the shame was gone before we ever had sex.

I don't know that there was a moment where it was just gone, but I do know that it didn't exist around anyone I shared the truth with. In front of any friend or acquaintance that I avoided saying anything about my history, especially if they talked about sex, I felt shame. But with others, including Wendy, where I told her up front that I was writing this blog post in fact, the shame immediately disappeared. She didn't reject me for it. And in fact, sharing such things created strong emotional bond very quickly, which is amazing to have with someone you can trust.

I have never been rejected or betrayed for being honest with the wrong person. This might be why I'm more apt to share things. I've only really seen benefits. So, I honestly don't know if being honest is a good move even if it leads to disastrous consequences do to the evil hearts of some others. I guess I have an answer principally, and really, it probably depends on circumstances, but I'll just say I'm very thankful I haven't faced that.

On Progress (and the faces of me)

I decided recently that being embarrassed by the me I was 10 years ago is a good thing; a much better thing than still being that guy. However, that just means 10 Years From Now Me will also be embarrassed of Now Me and 43 Years From Now Me will be disgusted with how ugly 10 Years Ago Me, Now Me, and 10 and 20 Years From Now Me all are. He'll have the aggravation of facing all those Me's at once. (Mes? Me's? Mus? this word has no plural... as cloning becomes commonplace this will become an issue that needs to be addressed. We'll go with me's)

Maybe 43 Years From Now Me will have learned to be content and he'll have let all that embarrassment go, knowing he can't change the past. I guess Time Travel Dream Me will be dead by then.

Why can't I just become Content Me now? Could he show up tomorrow? If I move past my embarrassment with 10 Years Ago Me, will I become Content Me?

If I become content, will I stop moving forward and growing? Is contentment bad? Should it only be taken in moderation? Do I have a bad idea of what contentment is? Is 43 Years From Now Me going to laugh at this?

Now Me is a little annoyed by the lack of darkness in this entry. Light-hearted Me is supposed to be on vacation. Deal With Your Past Me runs the show now. He's been doing all sorts of excavating and uncovering the bones of all the me's that ever ran amuck on the earth's soil, blazing a path of destruction.

OK, let's be honest. Most of those early me's just hid. They were storing up all my expression for later in life, hoping Late 20's or Early 30's Me would explode with it.

I think Deal With Your Past Me has some sort of frankenstein complex, wanting to rebuild with all the best parts. It sounds like a good plan, I know, but he will undoubtedly fail to find everything he needs and begin tossing in all sorts of replacement parts; eye of eagle, fangs of cobra, mane of lion, cornstarch. Result: chaos.

The Ideal Me won't be found in the past, he's hanging out in the future. I hope so, anyway. It would be a shame if he already came and went, leaving only Washed Up Me.

The problem Now Me has is he's too obsessed with Ideal Me. Deal With Your Past Me thinks he has the answer to that. He claims all those developmental me's didn't have a bone of self worth, or at the very least it was too small. He also blames the media and technology, often reminding the me's that he didn't have a cell phone till he was 26 and he remembers the time before the internet. He says life was simpler back then.

Season of Discontent Me, still alive and well(in dysfunctional way), likes that argument and wants to blame everything on advertising and it's constant feeding of Covet Me, who is now suffering from obesity.

That merely frustrates Rational Me, because if that's the subtrahend part of the equation for contentment, why can't he just plug it in and have everything be all better?

Philosophical Me, an avid blog writer, will then make some comment about seasons of life and cycles of emotion. He'll even pretend to be scientific by drawing a sine wave on the chalkboard of my mind. It's on that chalkboard that Philosophical Me always crosses the line. A fight ensues. Rational Me always wins. Then Philosophical Me makes some comment about how that proves he actually won, and then with mocking applause, congratulates Rational Me on his growth. That's the part where Rational Me has had enough, takes his chalk, and goes home.

Can't Sit Still Me has been at this for a couple hours now and is thinking about changing his name to Can Sit For A Brief While When He Has A Good Latte And Something Productive To Do Me. But already he is getting worked up again, cause that name is just too long. He wishes to consult Clever Me on what to do.

Clever Me is often exhausted. His job is to make everything unique. This includes monitoring everything ever done and making sure it doesn't happen again. He likes long walks on the beach with Rational Me, because Rational Me can convince him he doesn't always have to be on, and that he isn't the proper replacement for the self worth bone, so he should stop trying to be. Clever Me promises to remember, but with so much else on his mind, it doesn't stick for long. He has really good intentions though.

Philosophical Me quickly points out that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Clever Me rolls his eyes at the cliché, but then gets all serious and worried, knowing that he more than anyone else needs to be kept in check. He then thinks about all the time he spends with his close cousin, Self Seeking Me, and wonders if he should cut him off. However, Self Seeking Me is more fun to hang with than Insecure Me, who's only goal, it often seems, is to try to convince Clever Me he's not who he thinks he is. Clever Me kinda wishes he could cut them both off, but he can't seem to get away from Insecure Me unless he's with Self Seeking Me, whom Insecure Me is afraid of.

Philosophical Me used to love rash decisions like cutting me's off, but now that everyone is embarrassed by 10 Years Ago Me, he's rethinking his strategy. He has become a big fan of the word balance. He has even come around and changed his thoughts of Self Discipline Me. He used to hate that guy because he was an even worse replacement for the self worth bone. But he has gotten past that phase and more importantly, he is vital to have around when Rational Me has flipped out.

Philosophical Me often feels bad for instigating Rational Me, but he knows pushes are necessary for growth, and in his heart he really thinks that someday they will make a great team along with Deal With Your Past Me. He thinks that team has a chance of finding Ideal Me, who's probably carrying a self worth bone.

Season of Discontent Me says that's impossible. The world is too big and Ideal Me is too elusive. Plus, Covet Me and Clever Me are usually stalling the entire operation. This scares Clever Me away. Season of Discontent Me then flips Rational Me on his head, affording opportunity for Insecure Me to tickle his feet. All that sends Philosophical Me into a frenzy. He doesn't want anyone else messing with Rational Me. He knows this is a delicate operation. Deal With Your Past Me then goes into overdrive looking for a quick fix.

He usually finds something, or just retrieves from his archive an item everyone had forgotten about. This soothes things temporarily, but everyone is exhausted at this point. Even Season of Discontent Me feels bad. He says he wants to leave, but he has nowhere to go. Apathetic Me says it doesn't matter to him, he's only going to be around while Clever Me is gone anyway. Covet Me and Philosophical Me don't want to lose anything else, so they tell everyone to sit still. Philosophical Me in particular wants to avoid rash decisions. He tries to tie up Rational Me, because that guy has gone completely irrational. Insecure Me helps because he loves tying things up.

That's when Self Discipline Me takes over, keeping everyone on course. His ability to ignore all complaints and opposition, mostly coming from Insecure Me, really impresses Philosophical Me. He gets Covet Me on the treadmill, shoves Apathetic Me out the door, patiently waits for Rational Me to turn back over, and stares down Season of Discontent Me, making him very uncomfortable.

Season of Discontent Me retires to his room for a nap. Philosophical Me begins to celebrate victory and encourages everyone, even Season of Discontent Me. (But not Apathetic Me, he's gone anyway) Everything is working and life is good. Philosophical Me then remembers Clever Me is gone. He tells Rational Me to go get him. But Rational Me reminds him that Clever Me must return of his own volition. Philosophical Me shrugs his shoulders and agrees, content that Clever Me will return in time. He remarks on how sensitive that dude is and laughs. “Let's do this all again sometime.” he says, “43 Years From Now Me will love it.”

“Doubtful.” says Insecure Me.

He shuts up when Rational Me punches him in the face.  

Perfection

I remember in college, whenever I would drive somewhere long distance, I had to get the directions completely right. If I ended up missing a turn in some small town along the way, I would be furious. It didn't matter if I was losing only two minutes, I could longer complete the journey perfectly. I would scream in frustration, cursing myself, or the map, or the signs. It didn't matter. I was overwhelmed with frustration because I had failed.

I don't know how long it took me to realize that was an unreasonable reaction. I know it took even longer to realize why I was frustrated or how it projected to the rest of my life.

It manifested itself while I was driving because I was alone. I scream a lot when I'm alone. I do not scream around others. I was always hyperaware of who might be watching or listening. I am less conscious of it now, or at least I don't let it hinder me as often. My defense mechanism as a child was to remain emotionless and unexpressive - hide away, go unnoticed. So it was incredibly rare for me to be myself unless I was by myself. When I was by myself, I evidently had a little tension to release, as if it's unhealthy to never express opinions or emotions to others or something.

Now I am far more expressive. I have this pressing need to be friends with everything human I come in contact with, and I am far more aware of the times I clam up and return to my old, fearful, unemotional (sometimes confused as stoic) self. I still, however, will not yell at others. (I may, however, tell them off in an email :) ) That's a direct reaction to being terrified of my father's yelling as a child and not wanting to do that to anyone else. I don't think that's so bad and I do express frustration with people, usually after thinking over how to say it for a good while. Watch out, maybe someday I will yell at you.

Of course, over many things I am stoic and unaffected. Some things that have a huge emotional effect on some people don't faze me in the least. But let's not cloud the matter. I certainly know when something bothers me, and those are the things I work to address. (That, and trying to be my strange, nonsensical self who likes to quote movies and talk in terrible accents more often around others)

But back to the road of life. Whether expressed or not, I've often approached my destiny as something that must be walked with perfection. Any misstep ruins it all. I've ruined it all a bunch of times, but not only have I ruined paths in life, I have also avoided them. My decision making has been skewed because my brain has told me I must know for sure it is the right decision before I make it. This has led to some serious hesitation in many areas of life and God only knows how many missed opportunities.

Of course, destiny be definition is not controlled by me, and it's irrelevant what I do. If it's destiny, it'll come. My concern then, is only how I conduct myself, and this need to be perfect hampers me because it is mixed with an improper view of destiny.

I had an obsession over my calling when I was younger. Well duh, if I knew what I was supposed to do I had a chance to execute it to perfection. If I didn't even know the calling, I was pretty screwed and horribly frustrated.

I didn't know the calling. Oh, but often I thought I did. I thought it was this. And then that. And then that. And then this again.

I pretend that I've stopped that, but anyone who knows me knows the vagabond that I have been. Some of my journey's have been necessary, but I know the ones that involved me running or chasing a new potential “proper course”. Oh and the screaming I have done when I've had to change direction. And oh how I've taxed my mind while feverishly attempting to accomplish everything possible to speed my course.

Ah, but an interesting thing about depression is it stops you. You cannot function. The perfectionist can have a goal, a course he thinks he's supposed to be fulfilling, and depression will make it so he can't physically(or mentally) go through with it. From certain viewpoints(his own), he has become entirely worthless.

If you're me, you scream at God and try to negotiate your way out of depression so that you can be of some use to Him. Somewhere in there, you find out that what He sees as useful is so completely different from what you see. And then I guess you just stare in awe, cause you don't know nothing.

Then maybe you start to learn to trust. And when you think you've got it figured out, some new layer of misguidance gets stripped away. Somewhere in there you figure out you'll never figure IT out. You'll make progress. You'll learned a few things. You'll be far more expressive and less afraid. You'll stop worrying about how many layers need to be stripped off of this thing. You'll just focus on the one you are on, hopefully not getting too arrogant when you've moved past it and instead patiently waiting for the next thing to knock you off course. Then you take it in stride or let it change your stride, whatever the day may bring.

I don't really care if I get lost while driving anymore. Maybe I think a wrong turn will lead to something of value. Maybe I relish the idea of not being perfect but still being able to get to my destination.

approaching from their

I want a new a voice. I want a new writing style. I want to craft my words with another's eloquence. I want to structure my sentences upside down. Ultimately, it's perspective I seek. I want to speak from different angles. I want to see from the other side of the room; down the street; across the globe; under the table. I want new revelations to infiltrate my soul. I want to be someone else, if only for a moment, as well as throughout all time.

If I used different adjectives, would I have an alternate attitude? If I had an entirely new vocabulary, would I be a new person? Would I have more ambition? Would I have better focus? Would I be wholly confused? Would I struggle to express myself?

I wonder what it would be like to have an entire life that is built on different circumstances, viewpoints, teachings, lies, heartbreak, dreams, physical build, health, time period, everything. Where would I be? Who would I be? How does that person think? What is the same? What is there that has never crossed my mind?

Someone else wouldn't be dealing with the same issues. They wouldn't be obsessed with the same thoughts. Theirs would be an entirely new set of issues and obsessions. How refreshing. So quickly I could dismiss their ridiculous thoughts, as they could dismiss mine. But more importantly, I'd gain from their insights. I'd solve problems with foreign tools; straight forward, applicable tools. There would be a new simplicity discovered from this new arsenal.

What if this new person I was spoke with authority? Would I be firm? Would I stand strong? If I wrote with authority and conviction, would I ask fewer questions? Or would they all be rhetorical questions? Would I provide answers? Or, more subtly, would I point out directions? Would wisdom alter my approach on a case by case basis? Would I be more efficient? Would I be more unique? Could I be both efficient and unique?

That is a dichotomy in motivation. I cannot be efficiently unique. Or I am always most efficient when I am unique? For to be unique is to be incomparable. Then it is both the pinnacle of efficiency, and devoid of it altogether. Is the quest to be unique also a quest to kill the desire for efficiency? A hidden hatred of the pressure to maximize all opportunity fuels the obsession with the exceptional or distinct.

Such an obsession it is, to be me is no longer unique enough. Ah, to be truly unique is to be unable to qualify unique with a value. There exists no such thing as unique enough. Therefore, to be me is simply no longer to be unique. For I have always been me, and how does the me of today separate itself from the me of the past? Only in not being myself am I unique throughout all time and space. However, as soon as I am something new, it is me, and is no longer unique from the me I was. The only solution is to be constantly changing. So is that my desire? Or is that how it's inevitably going anyway?

A new perspective is only good if it combines with the one I've already established. But even then, it's never enough knowledge. It'll never satiate the yearning for more. The number of perspectives are almost limitless. Adding all of the flaws that accompany them could be maddening. Could be, but perchance it'd be predominantly humbling, and precisely what someone like me needs. At that end, I'd then be equipped to articulate an alternate voice, or stand resolute in the one I already own.

A Couple Questions

This is hard. This is difficult. This is confusing. This is nuts. I'm nuts. I feel nuts. I need about 75,000 more answers. I'm trying to settle down. Who's responsible for settling me down? Is it me? Is it You? Is there a trick? Am I always looking for a trick? Have I always been like that? Is my entire life about feeling right. Is it a constant quest to feel right? Is that the epitome of self centeredness? What's the trick? Why isn't there a trick? Why do I have to do something different all the time? Why can I remember not feeling this stress yet I can't get back to that feeling? Why is time so desperate. Why do I feel this impulse to use every second wisely? Why am constantly trying to avoid messing up? Why do I feel like that will ruin everything? What is reasonable? What voices am I supposed to be listening to? The ones that set me free? Don't I have some weird ideas for getting free?

Am I stupid to think i'd be fine after two months? Am I thinking it was an event not worthy of this reaction? Am I caught up in thinking my problems don't count? Was that not a major episode? Do I believe that? Do I feel guilty for it? Do I blame myself? Who's to blame? Does it matter who's to blame?

What else is in there? What is in my head? What lie do I keep telling myself? How do I make decisions in this state of mind? How do I trust my choices? Should I commit to anything right now? Or is my lack of commitment the problem?

Why am I so worried? So worried about such unreasonable things? How do I stop this? How do we stop this? Why won't You stop this? Are You stopping this? Do I just need to realize it takes time? Why does it take so much time? Am I learning something? Why do I feel like I've regressed?

Why do I feel OK sometimes? Why do I feel good? Why doesn't it stay? Why does it all seem random? When did it all get confused? Was it always confused? Was my outlook incorrect from the start?

When times are good am I living a lie? Am I oblivious to something? When times are bad, is it my eyes opening? Am I realizing something new and adjusting to it? Should I be sitting still and learning? Should I be distracting myself and escaping?

Do I always run? How do I know if I'm running or moving forward? By staying put, am I actually running? By moving forward, am I actually retreating?

Am I simply supposed to take each day as it comes? Do I waste time thinking about a future that is far too uncertain to predict? Should my focus be on the immediate moment? Would that make me less selfish? Would I be able to see the needs of others? Would I meet them?

Do I spend too much time on the dark side? Should I be making myself laugh? Should I be making others laugh? Should I avoid certain paths? Should I seek out others? Do I just need to express myself? Do I just need an outlet? Why do I use the word “just”? Why do I think it will be simple? Or do I desperately want it to be simple? Do I keep going because I'm convinced I'm on the brink of finding the answer? Do I think everybody else already knows it? Do I think I am one small tweak away?

Why do I feel like I need to give the answer? Why do I feel like I need to be past this? Why don't I embrace being in the middle? Why don't I enjoy the ride? What is preventing that? What responsibility am I putting on myself that I shouldn't?

How close am I to feeling like I once did? How close am I to childlike excitement? How do I keep it when it returns?

stream of conscious

Just write. Don't think. Don't edit. Let it flow, from your head. Don't fix punctuation. Don't fix spelling. Spell check will fix spelling. Let the world in on the freeflow of your mind. Don't say anything profound. Maybe say something profound. Don't try to say something profound. You can't go back and make it profound. If there is something profound, let them hunt for it. Let someone else find it among the wreckage. You just keep typing. Keep rambling. See where it gets you. Stop talking about rambling and ramble. Look around you. What do you see? Mostly darkness. That's not a metaphor. It's actually dark in here. It's dark out there. Why are you up so early? Cause you have something to write. I have something to write? Yeah. This. Profound. Thing. I just edited that last sentence. OK, fine, that's your one edit for whole thing. This is a stream of conscious. No going back. But I love to edit. I know you do. I make lots of errors. Many times I write don't when I mean do and stuff like that. I may have to look at it 5 times to catch myself. Now if I write the wrong thing, it's stuck there. Forever. I can't handle forever. Right now I can't even spell it. Thank goodness for spell check. This is getting crazy. Could I hold a thought. No, you weren't ever really good at concentration. I know. I think sometimes I am. Sometimes I get really focused on something. I get locked in. Honed in. I like honed better. Can I go back and change locked to honed? Not today you can't. I really think the people don't want to read about my desire to swap words. They just want the good words. The final product. It's so hard to be eloquent like this. I really can't get over how porrly i'm spelling right now. That's it. I'm leaving the spelling errors too. I'm letting it all go. No perfecting. NO revisionist history. I didn't mean to capitalize both letters in no there. Now it seems more forceful. The people need to know it was orignalyy intended to be a softer, more subtle no. Do the people really need to kow that? Do they care? What do people care about? And who are these people? And who are you? And who am I? You are you and so am I. Then why ...oh ...that's awkward. I don't think I wanted to start that sentence that way. See, I had a different question and now it's gone. Lost. In oblivion. I can't go back. But you know what? I don't want to go back. What's said is said. I can't change it. Well, this I clearly could change. But lets say I was eching in stone. I really missed on that speling. Anyway. I couldn't erase in that situation. I could destroy my stone tablet sure. But then i'd be starting from scratch and have essentially wasted hours, maybe days. How long does it take to etch something in stone? I don't konw. I wasn't there. I guess I could still do it. I dont' have to back in time. I've seen stones. Right here in the present. Present has multiple meanings, but are they both spelled the same? I narrowed it down from multiple to just two in the middle of that sentence. Wanted to clear that up. But what if there is a third? Now i'm little worried i'm forgeting one. Or many. I appologize to the word present for not knowing more about it. At least not remembering more about it at 5:38 am on a saturday. I could be sleeping. But thw world definitely needs this rambling. So I guess it's best I'm awake to share. At what point do people give up on reading something like this? It can't be too long, right? Cause I',m pretty sure it's hard to follw. There aren't even paragraphs. And look at that spelling. So many red squiggly lines. The people won't see the lines though. They'll be gone when you post this. Good. Maybe they will miss some. Maybe they won't think it's all that bad. You don't really care what they think, do you? Not at this particular moment, no. At other moments. Way too much. It's unhealthy. Mayube. You don't really know. No, I don't. Maybe it's perfectly healthy. You ever think of that? Yeah, I guess it could be. Fine. I admit I don't know. Good. It's settled then. What's settled? Settled that I dont know? Yes. Exactly. Great. Who said exactly and then who said great? Should I put “i said” or “you said” after each statement? Obviously, the quotes would actually be around the statement and not the I or you said. You didn't have to explain that. The people already know how quotes work. Not kids. There are some young folk that don't got it down yet. You really think they are going to be reading this? Yeah, you are right, they probably shouldn't. This is not the document to learn to write from. You can say that again. Thanks, but I won't. I think i've gone on long enough here, no need for more repeating. Hey, you know what? What? This goes way faster when you don't stop to think or edit. It's 5:47 and you think you are done already. Usually, it'd be 10:00 by now. Or it'd be days later. You should face all of life edit free. No thanks. I think this is maybe enough. Just a small taste of chaos in my mind. And really, this still proably isn't that indicative of all the bouncing thoughts in there. But I tried. As hard as one is trying that isn't thinking things through or adjusting them. Ok, well, this should probably be the end. I'd like to tie it back somehow, but I don't really remember what I started with. I'm trying to think of it. But this is only going to lead to many more sentences of ramblings before I remember. Oh, but I really do want to tie it up nicely. You need to let that go. But I swear its right there, on the tip of my tongue. I can do this. That's not the point. You are supposed to not do it. Well, technically, I am supposed to do whatever and if that so happens to tie things up, so be it. OK, fine. You win. Except you still can't remember. So you lose. Damn. Alright. It'll end here then. This is more than enough. Oh, this abrupt stop is hard. Can I at least say bye or something? Yes. You can do whatever you want. You just can't take it back once you've done it. So think about it first. But I can't. This is a stream of conscious. The one thing I can't do is think first. Good point. Also, there is more than one thing. Shut up. You get my point. I do. Good. Hey, you are dozing off. And not writing everything you are thinking again. So sorry. I'll try better. No I wont' cause this is the end. I'm out. Bye. Still feels abrupt.

Coping With Depression

First Option: Embrace the Tortured Artist

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Dig deep kid, admit it all, hide nothing. Take on too much, let it cripple you. You have an overwhelming fear of loss. Admit it. It comes from your parents. They received that fear when they lost a child. It comes more-so from you. You had to move shortly thereafter. You lost all of your friends. You lost functional parents. You had your first depression, it lasted three years. You'll never have that back. What if things had gone differently? What if you had a different life? Embrace it. Write a story.

You are now so quickly laid to waste when you lose something or think you might. Blame yourself. Be ashamed.

Breathe...Breathe...Breathe.

You met the “girl of your dreams” almost a decade ago. You were amazed that one person could actually fit all of things you were looking for. It was God ordained but for one minor detail, another boy. A man. Must have been a man's man. He married her. You weren't man enough. Blame yourself. Be ashamed. Write a story. You've already written a couple. You knew her for two months. Five years of depression followed. Why is it always two months? Only two months? What the hell is two months? There must be a story. Write it.

Breathe...Breathe...Breathe.

After 3 years, Aaron's death still haunts you. Call it what it is, suicide. You had a chance. You were his chance. You failed. Blame yourself. If there is a story, you will never bring yourself to write it.

breathe.......................breathe..........................breathe............

You are ashamed to have tried to play baseball at 25. (though people always say you should be proud) You are ashamed to have failed. You are ashamed to have thought you could hear God. You are ashamed to have been so shy when you were young. You are ashamed to have not rebelled. You are ashamed to be single. (though you are damn picky) You are ashamed at your lack of faith. You are ashamed to be depressed. (though at least some of it is a chemical imbalance in your brain). You are ashamed of your honesty. You are insecure. You are woefully inadequate. You can't overcome. You are too much of a fool to figure it out. You'll always be lost. You'll always be on the outside.

Breathe...Breathe...Breathe.

Cry. Every 12 hours. Set your watch to it. Get a watch. Be a romantic, live in simpler times. Hold on to the past. Cry at 3:00 PM. Cry at 3:00 AM. (Two rather inconvenient times) Feel out of control. Feel like less of a man because of it. Let that make you feel worse. Hyperventilate. Get struck with anxiety. Drink some caffeine. Make it worse on purpose. Embrace it. Write a story.

Wallow in it. Draw it out. Maybe this one can be seven years.

Breathe...Breathe...Breathe

Second Option: Embrace the Inner Asshole

No offense to your father, but you know there's a mean streak in this family. Stop trying to suppress it. Stop being the one with self control. Be who you are. Unleash the fury. Let the world see your emotions. Make them pay for it.

Find a tree. Chop it down. Take the logs. Throw them. Anywhere. Just throw. Exert energy. Pick up an ax. Picture a face of your choosing. Say hello. Swing the ax. Put your entire body into it. Swing from the depths of your soul. A clean cut is not the mission. Be wild. If you miss, channel more anger, there is plenty available. Swing again. Destroy the log. Split it. Smash it. Take it's life.

And repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Don't hold doors. Walk in front of traffic. Slowly. Return your coffee. Tell off your barista. Insult your coworker. Kick a dog. Punch a stranger. Flip out on a child.

I can't condone it, but I understand my grandfathers desire for an escape. I get the mental strain. It makes sense that he'd turn to alcohol... No. That's bullshit! What the fuck? Don't you see what you did, grandpa? Why couldn't you think of who you would affect? You had resources. You had opportunities. Take some damn responsibility. I didn't even know you, but I can't think straight thanks to you. I'm two generations removed and my mind is fucked. You hurt so many people. How could you be so fucking selfish? I've spent decades recovering from this mental shit. Decades! Fucking decades! I could have been normal. I could have been functional. WHAT THE FUCK!?

And Repeat! And Repeat! And Repeat! And Repeat!

Fuck this life. Fuck my messed up brain. Fuck my past. Fuck anxiety. Fuck my dead dreams. Fuck my my failures. Fuck my fears. Fuck it all. I hate it. I'm done with it. I'll conquer it. I don't give a fuck who gets in my way.

AND REPEAT! AND REPEAT! AND REPEAT! AND REPEAT!

You owe this world nothing.

Third Option: Believe God

Well kid, here you are, back at the beginning. Facing something you've found impossible for a long time. Belief. It's Impossible because of the pain; Impossible because of the other options; Impossible because of unfulfilled promises.

You used to believe. That was so long ago. You've been wandering and doubting for 8 years. You've screamed, you've ignored, you've confronted. You've turned against and you've gone back. You've wavered. You've been like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed.

You've had your moments. You've been blown away. You've been devastated. You've felt abandoned. You've felt turned against. You've been humbled. You've found success.

You've approached life from so many angles. You've hated that you cannot know. You've hated that you're life has been a wash. You've hated being self absorbed. You've hated that you cannot find peace, with or without God. You've missed what it used to be like.

You were right. You cannot know. You don't get to know. What you do know is that you crumble without a foundation. Here, at the bottom, you cannot even function. There isn't much of a choice, then. Believe God is good or die. You can ill afford to wander any longer. Feel free to scream, but stop wavering. Settle in. Find peace. Accept your lot, which you really do love so many aspects of. Believe the pain is for a purpose. Know you have come far already. Trust God like you did so many years ago. Believe He'll do good with the mess that is you.

Have a foundation. Have something to hold onto. Keep walking in the same direction for once.

Hold to your beliefs when you can't see clearly. When a haze cuts off your access to the rest of the world, trust the truth. Your reason remains when your emotions are blitzed, use it to your advantage. But that only works if you have something to believe.

So believe and live on.

you non-contributing zero

When I was in middle school and early on in high school I had a very difficult time believing there were reasons for people to like me. I had nothing to offer. I was nothing unique. I was nothing important. Even at the time, I knew the thought pattern was unhealthy and I forced myself to just assume people liked me until they told me otherwise. It worked. Even if you overwhelmingly bore them, people will almost never tell you they don't like you to your face as long as you aren't a burden to them. I am quite adept at being a drama free, pleasant, if inconsequential, entity. I had many friends by the end of high school. I doubt any of them would call me inconsequential, but I'd have a hard time believing them.

Clearly, I was extremely adverse to rejection. This led to almost no risks being taken throughout school, and even in college I stuck with the comfortable for the most part. And then one day it all reversed and I started taking all sorts of risks. (I know the exact day, and yes, it involved a girl) After that, I basically did things I was afraid of just because I was afraid of them. There would be no more regrets. That type of behavior will stretch you at least.

All failure feels like rejection. It eats away at you. And in my head, it simply compounds. This probably goes back to me feeling inconsequential. At the moment, and many times before, though not always, I've got all success's bundled in a place of irrelevance. None of them count. So my life is constant failure. All actions are then predictably doomed. This gives the future a rather bleak outlook.

Something in me still goes, believing it can find that one small switch to flip that will change things dramatically. Where I get this idea that it's just one thing, I do not know. But I go, none-the-less, surviving by a glimmer of hope. I should just play the lottery, it's got better odds.

That's not the point of this. It's the return of that feeling of inconsequence from decades ago that concerns me. Do I have nothing to offer?

Why is it back? Did I not deal with it properly in the past?

It's more than that. It's that I can't make it. I can't figure it out. I can't become that person who is of consequence. Is that what kept me going? Is that what kept me risking? The idea that I will become something more, something desirable, something of value.

Now, I can go back to my childhood, my father and even my brain chemistry, and come up with reasons why I think this way. But I swear I've been there already. I've forgiven my father. We get along better all the time. And I'd thought I'd moved beyond these feelings of worthlessness.

Am I making progress or not? That's what I care most about. Too much of this year has been a repeat of very painful times long ago. No, it hasn't been as bad, not even close, but why is it here at all? What have I not learned? Is there anything that says it won't come back again?

I keep telling myself I need to be comfortable with and proud of who I am. I should embrace and boast of those things that I am ashamed of, not try to hide them and not try to be someone else. Maybe that's what confidence is. And maybe I've only learned to fake it in certain situations.

There's a balance out there that I'm missing. Because while I should be content with who I am, (up to this point) I refuse to believe I should be content with how things go. I am not at all happy with how things go. They are just so often disappointing. There's got to be a way to change that. Maybe there is not. Or maybe it's going to be subtle. Maybe I shouldn't worry about how things are, I should worry instead about how I am. I should aspire to not be disappointing in and of myself.

I, of course, have a firm grip on nothing. I'll just keep tossing around ideas, trying them, and hopefully not deeming them all failures.

Motivated Experience

I was thinking about experience, how it governs one's mentality. This isn't exactly a new thought, I have long thought one's own experience will ultimately define what they believe. Facts and figures can always be bent to make belief and experience align.

Lately, however, the thought has been on observed experience versus personal experience. I've been know to observe others here and there and see what works for them. I love observing relational dynamics and I find them somewhat predictable in others. It mostly boils down to a couple general principles. This is nothing astounding, story tellers have been using those principles to their advantage for making an audience admire or despise a character as long as stories have been told.

What I find interesting is my own personal bias against all these principles as they relate to me. Probably resulting from a collection of my own experiences and the heightened emotion involved in caring about me more than the random guy I observe, I am able to quite easily convince myself that my life defies all rules. What works for them doesn't work for me.

This does two things. It makes me into a unique freak of nature who could never belong and it makes finding answers impossible. With all other cases being irrelevant, I have only myself to analyze, and myself is the most confused and the one who hasn't succeeded.

Don't dare ask me to define success. That's as elusive a concept as there is. Success is more and more is never enough. Success in my head is impossible.

An achieved goal must not have been a real goal, or it would not have been achievable. If it's done by me, then anyone can do it, and it is not worth celebrating. Many people find it strange I had no desire to go to my college graduation, but that's how I think. (And again, that's how I think about me, the rules change in regard to anyone else)

Here's where it gets crazy. Success to me has to be in something entirely unique, but something unique is not rateable because by it's very definition it has nothing it can be compared to.

In this quest to be unique, I keep trying to rewrite myself into someone who operates outside all the norms. It's almost like it's some sadistic attempt to make me hopeless to succeed. if I'm hopeless, I can stop trying.

Sometimes I really do believe I'm hopeless. This leaves me with one of my more favorite motto's: There's no point in trying, but there's nothing else to do.

So still, I continue to press forward merely to stave off boredom. What's this all mean? I'm doomed to excel.

Am I destined or cursed? Who knows? All I know is I'm motivated. I can't reorder my mind to a place that sits me still. I can't ever arrive. There is no ultimate goal, there are only vague, mutable dreams that vaporize when they are within my grasp.

Really, this is all just a quest for meaning and fulfillment, and the impossibility of either of those things is likely my greatest asset to getting things done. If only I didn't second guess everything along the way. I have no faith in me.

Hmm. That's what it is. Interesting. How does one fix that? Why do I think it needs fixing? Perhaps the mental instability is why. There's something about talking yourself of off ledges that makes you think you've gotta stop getting to that point. (No, I don't literally talk myself off ledges, don't worry) It's more like I talk myself out of holes. The point is that I get into to scarily low spots. I've long known hopelessness is what puts one down there, but I find my lack of faith disturbing.

The thought that always chases that is I think too much about myself. But the reality is I obsess when I am low. I can't seem to break those thoughts, and big surprise, I feel guilty because I am wasting time thinking about me and am incapable of accomplishing anything good. (according to how I am defining accomplishment at those times)

I can point to several insecurities that send me spiraling, but I'm too insecure to be specific about them here. Basically, I am ashamed. A couple things I have mentioned I'm ashamed of, people have told me I should be proud of, because I risked and I tried when many others wouldn't. But I get ashamed when I fail, thinking I was a fool to try.

This is a terrible line of thinking, because the biggest growth often comes out of failure. Fail. Learn. Change. Be better.

So now I am someone who's driven by the unachievable and crushed by the unavoidable result of that quest. Both of those things are backwards. I shouldn't be motivated how I am and I should see failure as a positive sign of progress.

My guess is I'm not going to change how I am motivated or discouraged. Instead, I should learn to channel those emotions to my advantage. (or the world's)

And maybe that is part of what I'm doing when I convince myself that I am unique and outside the realm of destiny, if you will. All I'm really doing is making things epic and over dramatic. If so much is on the line, I can push myself to do things otherwise to terrifying to try. Indeed, I've tried some crazy things. They've pretty much all crashed and burned to this point, but I've got a few more attempts on the horizon and I do have a better idea of what I'm doing. I think maybe, just maybe, I'll even forge ahead knowing what I know of observed experience, and see how what works for everyone else works for me.

a chance to help

My cousin lost her 5 year old daughter to cancer a couple weeks ago. I imagine there isn't worse emotional pain than the loss of a child. I can understand the feeling to an extent, but I feel inadequate in my attempts to relate. I want to relate because I want to be there to help my cousin through what will be years of hell. This leaves me with a strange pressure to do and say the right things and an unreasonable and mostly selfish worry about what she and her family think of my response.

I know they don't dwell on me, there's obviously a much more pressing issue consuming them. Yet that pressure continues. I want to be able to pull everything I've learned from pain and depression and hand it to them, subsequently making everything be fine. I find it upsetting that that will not be the case with them for years. I know how it works. I know time is the only answer, and I hate it. I'm desperate to find another solution. I want to write a 12 step program. I want to build a time accelerator. I want to wave a magic wand and fix things.

I'm feeling helpless. I have only words that may relate, and only if she wants to hear them. I could pray. And maybe that was the answer years ago, but I don't think God is listening. They might think that. Or they might be just as confused about that as me.

Currently, the truth behind prayer and God and life is irrelevant. All I'm concerned about is relief and peace. That seems sacrilegious. I want them to turn to whatever helps, even if it's not steeped in reality.

That speaks more to my unbelief than anything. Otherwise, truth would trump all. It would be more important than healing. Holding to truth would be a test of faith - an absurdly hard test of faith.

That's what I used to believe. If I still believe that, I failed the test. The lack of any reassurance that God was watching did me in. It was a deafening silence. The silence continues.

I don't care now. That isn't a pressing enough issue to matter. It may never be again. In the midst of depression, escape trumps all. The rest of the universe pails in comparison.

I have looked back at my own life and walk through depression and I can see the progress I made. But if the depression started 6 years ago, most of the progress was in the last 2 years. That's 4 years in limbo, left hanging onto the hope for progress and not much else.

4 years doesn't seem horrid from this end, but when your in the middle of it and you don't know how long it will be or if it will ever end, it eats you away. The longer it goes, the more you consider options for ending it yourself. That is a terrifying internal debate to have.

Mentally and emotional you are all over the map. Things are completely fine some of the time, and utterly dreadful at other times, all seemingly without reason.

I guess you figure out cues to the darkness eventually, and you can start to avoid them. But the darkness will adjust and arrive in new ways. It's particularly daunting when something that was once an escape from the darkness becomes a cause of it. Now you find yourself changing who you are simply to survive.

It worked for me. I am not who I was a couple years ago. I mostly treat people the same as always, so it may not be too noticeable, but my beliefs and motivations are a far cry from what they were. In many ways, this is freeing. I've killed a slew of internal pressures that used to govern my life. But it's also confusing. I don't really know who I am, if I'm better or worse, or if I'll be completely different in 5 years.

However, like the potential end to the spiritual silence I have had, it just doesn't matter who I am in 5 years. Being alive matters. Helping others be alive matters.

The issue here is the stakes. I know what is on the line. I know lives are made or shattered in these circumstances. I am terrified of seeing a life shattered. I want to put up a protective barrier to make failure impossible. I don't want there to even be a chance.

I don't know my cousin's family well. How do I help? I know her better than the rest of them. She is open and honest. I can be a help. It's sort of my life's purpose to be a help. And there is that pressure again. I know this the one area where I actually feel significant. This is where I think I matter. So I can't blow it. Do I feel like I blew it with Aaron? I'd have to say 'yes' to an extent. Though I choose to blame God. It's easier.

Am I going to fail this? Am I really the only one who can bring my cousin through? No way. She's surrounded by support. This is not Aaron. I was all he had.

I feel so desperate about this that I feel worthless. It's like I'm running around in a panic on the front lines and being a hindrance, not a help.

I'm going to relax and I am going to offer a hand. It'll be there if she ever needs it.

a boy and his god

I've been thinking, cause that's what I do. I feel like I'm on to a few new ideas here, but I can't seem to sort them at the moment. I also can't decided if I wish to speak generally or personally. I want to be careful not to make too many statements about the general behavior of man, because, though some things seem very obvious, I don't like the idea of trusting my own opinion that much.

'Don't trust anything' sounds like a noble or humble approach, but it's not all too reasonable itself. There are plenty of things out there that are solid and trust worthy. I need to separate fact from theory or I'm going to end up an extremely confused individual.

I am a mostly confused individual. At least that's how it feels much of the time. I believe this is because I am going through a transition period in my life. My friend Jay talks about high school being a very difficult time for people because you are transitioning from being a kid to an adult and it alters everything. Circumstances, perspective, priorities, behaviors, emotions, hormones; it all comes at once. Much of what you once held to gets tossed aside. That's how I feel now. I've finally reached the maturity level of a high schooler.

No, I am just embarking on a similar course. Should be easier this time, if I've done it all before. In many ways it is. I have enough life experience to know the world as I know it can be completely obliterated and rebuilt. (possibly many times depending on the route I take) I'm fine with that. I'm used to it. It's not without plenty of excitement and mystery, and most importantly hope.

At the same time, however, I get leery of the views I hold. How do I know they will last? When will it all get flipped again? What can I hold onto through it all?

Well, God remained a rock until my most recent flip, and I can't help but wonder why. It's probably the question that's most important to me. Do I say probably because I'm really indecisive lately? No. I say it because I have a sneaking suspicion that why doesn't matter at all.

I'm getting more and more convinced that people believe what they believe and react principally on emotion. As much as we all like our facts and figures, they are all just a mask for our simple and fragile egos.

Let me toss out a few general examples before I get to myself.

Thousands(millions?) of people die everyday overseas from war, famine, disease, or some other horrific circumstance, but we are more likely to do something about a friend who lost a job here because we have an emotional connection to the situation. I don't say that to guilt trip anyone, I'm just observing. I have some guesses about why we work that way and how it might actually be good, but I won't get off topic.

If you do any research into pretty much any poll you can find an abundance of holes and conflicting figures that prove the study says nothing, yet people absolutely love to use them to back up their opinions. Also, if you ask someone for a little more backing to their opinion beside their fallback stat, you probably won't get it. We don't know what we are talking about most of the time with most topics, but we seem to need justification for our views, no matter how weak or false that justification is.

Incidentally, this is why I generally avoid politics. The vast majority of voters don't have a clue, which is depressing to say the least. Meanwhile, politicians have to cater to these people to get anything done. This is annoying to no end. I do think the system works about as well as a government can, considering, but I don't want to hear about it, and, well, that thought is pretty depressing too.

Religion and science don't get a free pass either. (By science, I generally mean in regard to history) Many people take very limited knowledge and use it justify extremely passionate beliefs. Both science and religion are theories and always will be. Every time something new is figured out, an entirely new level of complexity is reached. Both can explain how things work at deeper and deeper levels, but neither will ever prove a source behind life. However, people seem to have an emotional need to stand on some belief about how life works.

Obviously, you can take any one topic and find someone who has a thorough knowledge of it, but the general public will have no interest other than to scratch the surface. Again, this isn't necessarily bad, as we probably couldn't function at all without our vast simplifications. What's curious to me is the amount of faith we put into these uneducated views and the arrogance that usually accompanies it.

Then's there is me, clearly not standing firmly in my simplified beliefs, but having them all the same. I guess I can quickly see why people pick sides as my decisions and approach to life will vary substantially depending on where I stand. So should I pick a side?

Not necessarily. Like I said before, I think there are things that I can still hold firmly too, and I need to find out what they are. Some I know, like my morals. No matter what I end up believing about God, I will always be of the philosophy that I should aim to place others ahead of myself. It's also always going to be something I can work at, there will always be room for improvement.

The biggest debate in my head of late is the belief in a personal God. If God is closely watching, guiding my steps, and answering my prayers, I am going to live way differently than if He isn't. Currently, I am acting as if He isn't. This makes me more proactive, careful and even desperate to progress as a person because I can't count on Him to bail me out. Not to mention, it's a whole other perspective on the events I see everyday.

I get frustrated when others attribute random or even logical events to an act of God. I hope I get that way because I wish I could do that, and not because I think they are wrong. I do not and can not know if they are right or wrong.

But as I was saying, emotions rule the day. I believed in a personal God before because of the emotions stirred up through my encounters with Him. My simple logic to back them up would be answered prayers, and I had a few that were pretty amazing, but that is no proof at all.

I believed in a personal God because things were going the way I wanted them too. I liked Him and I was pleased. I say that with confidence because the opposite now holds true.

I don't want to believe in a personal God because I feel like He has let me down in very large ways, not coming though when I gave up a ton to follow him and even not coming through when a very preventable death was on the line.

I'd be much happier knowing He wasn't around all along. Then I'd have just been misguided. I wouldn't have to blame Him for not carrying through on His promises, and we'd be cool. If I continue to believe in Him, I continue to be pissed at Him. That's old-hat by now. I'd like not to be pissed. My solution is to decided He's not there.

Emotionally, this works out fine. My psyche has found a way to function as it always does. Some other level of emotionally, however, I am not fine with this. I don't like the idea of my beliefs ultimately being set in emotion. I want to believe there is more to it than that. Is it all really this fleeting?

Probably my view continues to be too simple. Probably I need to come to grips with how weak I am and how little control I really have.

Just Being Honest

Two books I have read in recent months are “Losing God” by Matt Rogers and “Losing my Religion” by William Lobdell. Both books talk about crisis' in faith, making them rather applicable to me, but they are vastly different in perspective and conclusion, and neither is incredibly close to my own experience, which must mean everyone has quite a unique experience.

Matt is a pastor at Virginia Tech and a friend of mine. (not terribly close, but we know each other) Lobdell was the religion beat writer at the Los Angeles Times. Rogers' book focuses on his own inward struggle with depression and a feeling of God's absence, the questions of why, and the quest to find Him. Lobdell's focuses on the corruption that is so prevalent throughout all different sects of the church and his eventually loss of faith due to a lack of any substantial difference between a christian and a non-christian on a moral level. A large part of his experience covers his research into the Catholic Church's child molestation scandal and subsequent cover up that seems to have involved much if not all of its upper leadership(many of whom are still in place). What he saw was nothing less than completely horrifying. I imagine the victims of the abuse have to question where God is as much as Holocaust victims. Both being left shattered for years if not the rest of their lives.

Both author's are very honest in their writing. Raw honesty is something I aspire to, especially in regards to my view of God. If He exists, I think He appreciates it. Since they are writing books, they both tend to come to a conclusion. I don't know if that is because people don't generally like loose ends, so they each felt a need to tie it up, or if it's because they really did come to a peace about their own individual outlooks. As they end, Roger's found peace with God and escaped depression while Lobdell found peace abandoning his belief in God.

Then there is me. I have no conclusion. I am maybe a little jealous that either of them has found certainty. Are they serious? I am certain I'll never be certain. Still, I think I'm being honest, and because of that, I also have peace. (at least at the moment, and for the first time in a decade)

Do I believe in God? Depends on the day. I can argue and counter argue myself endlessly if I want. I feel there are an equal amount of things that say God is absolutely real as there are things that say there is no frickin way He exists. There are many, many things. Just about everything points one way or the other. Perhaps I have lived too long...where did I get so many conflicting experiences?

I still talk to God all the time. Mostly it's just to complain. I have about zero reverence for Him. Sometimes that scares me. Secretly I hope that He's got some crazy plan worked up for my life and it's being executed even as I type. Then, one marvelous day, everything will come together and make perfect sense. It's a nice thing to hope for I guess, but life's inference leaves me in extreme doubt.

I have much easier time believing there is a God than I do believing He has any interaction with me specifically. Not so much because of his apparent absence in my life, (there used to be plenty of times where He seemed right there) but because of his total absence from the rest of the world. He just let's things happen. Many of them are quite bad. Some are quite good. Whatever the case, the world moves on without intervention.

Anyway, I'm not meaning to jot down reasons for and against. (I really think I could find thousands) I am just wanting to say that I want to be honest.

I honestly have no faith. I'm the guy blown and tossed in the wind that is referenced in the book of James. “That man should not expect to receive anything from the Lord”, and believe me, I don't. I can't fathom a circumstance that would cause my faith to return, but I know that things I couldn't fathom earlier in life have happened, so I won't rule out the possibility.

I still stick to my morals. I am a big fan of biblical morals lived out properly, and think it would make the world a better place in they were followed as opposed to creating a bunch of judgmental people, which sadly seems to be more of the standard.

I am really really really tired of looking for or being offered the thing that's supposed to make everything better. (ie pray more, read the bible more, just trust...etc) I think I spent 20 years doing that. Now I will just live and see what happens. I used to look and look for a calling and the right way to live, always wondering what I should do here and there. Now I am convinced I have no such calling, I am free to be. It is such a huge relief. Besides, on that outside chance that God has some sort of plan, it'll go down regardless, (who am I to thwart it?) so what the heck was I worried about all those years?

It's horribly ironic, but now that I hardly believe in God, the path to following Him seems so incredibly simple, and I feel like I'm doing it, even if it's only because I wouldn't know what else to do. It's for freedom He set us free, right? Ha. I really like the verses that say I can do whatever the heck I want. No pressure. So why is it I almost always want to do good? I guess because I'd want others to be good to me. Hmm...

I'm not much into sermons anymore, though I find some are encouraging or helpful. Mostly they irritate me because they offer simplistic answers that I think are wrong. But I'll try not to say much because how the heck do I know what is wrong, my viewpoint changes all the damn time? I don't read the Bible much at all anymore, but I know it quite well via the channel known as memory. I am slightly adverse to reading it because increased amounts of that activity was so often a 'solution' to whatever problem I was going through. Now I am trying to catch up on classic literature (Tolstoy had way too much time on his hands) and do a little writing myself.

Like I mentioned earlier, I still talk to God all the time, (it's Him or myself, right?) but I feel rather uncomfortable praying in groups a I often feel I have to be dishonest. This is less of the case when I am around very close friends who know my wacky story. If you're a Christian I just met, forget about it, I have no desire to pray with you. In fact, I have little desire to talk to you, because if I try to explain myself at all, you are going to toss out some label and offer a simplistic solution, and I am going to have to suppress a desire to punch you in the face. So now, I instead have to be vague and dishonest to an extent. I don't want to have to be dishonest. That's the moral of this story. Hey look, that wrapped around nicely. Better end it here.

Goodbye My Friend

Aaron was similar to me in many ways. Introverted, prone to depression, too caught up in the past. We both spent our 20's lost and wandering, trying to find ourselves. We both chased dreams across the nation and back. We both found escapes in sports and physical activities.

Life follows a fairly routine and homogeneous track until your early 20's. You are constantly surrounded by people in the same situation with similar ambitions. Then freedom takes over, and you all scatter in different directions. Friends are lost to new locations, careers, and relationships. Sure, you don't lose those friendships entirely, but the dynamics change, and an understanding of each other that you once had ceases. Things aren't the same for each of you anymore, you cannot relate on the same level.

As time passes you lose more and more of these friends. It's true that you will pick up new ones who are in the same place in life as you, but they do not carry your history with them, as do the old friends. That history is incredibly precious. Before long, you have few if any friends that carry both that history and your current circumstances.

Aaron held a unique position that no one else will ever fill. Our history holds many spiritual and emotional landmarks, possibly more than any one relationship I've ever had. With Aaron, there was almost no choice but to deal with the very deep every time our paths crossed, it was necessary to break free and stay alive.

In 2004, I started into a blackness I would have never thought possible. Aaron's journey began a little earlier. Had I known how long it would last, it's unlikely I would be alive today. I would have checked out early on. Now, I'm either out, or it's just gotten bright enough to keep me going continuously. I'm certain there is an end. Aaron didn't get to that point. I picked him up where I could. I helped him walk through some devastating issues, and I worried because he had so much further to go than I did. He had fewer advantages playing in his favor. He was missing key experiential insight. I had things I lived through that I could hold onto. He had only theories of what might be. When darkness comes, that difference is monumental. Words can only take you so far.

I am going to get through this darkness. One of the greatest joys of my life was going to be getting Aaron through too. When I get to the other side, when I know for sure I am there, I am going to feel a greater sense of loss for what could have been.

I am so glad for what I was to Aaron. As insecure as I am about about who I should be and what value I am, that relationship is the single thing I am most proud of in my life. I know it was right, I know it was good, and I know it was important. There are probably other things I have done in my life that are important, but I cannot say they were with certainty. I am too skeptical. With Aaron I was certain.

Aaron took his life, and that isn't my fault. I had a chance to save him and I failed. Perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps I already did all that I could. Then I wish I could have done more, because I wish he was still here. Now I hope for another chance to find someone who needs me, and I hope to carry them through to the other side.

May God Have Mercy

I have a friend who left a message on my phone 2 months ago. It was a very depressed message. But I didn't hear it until 2 days later, so I did not return the call until then. He did not answer, nor has he answered any following calls or emails. Now his phone is always off.

I am almost his only friend and definitely his closest friend. I've searched and all I've found to possibility learn of his fate is an address for his brother from a couple years ago. So I will send him a letter, then I will wait for some word hopefully. Does his brother even know anything about him? Needless to say, I'm feeling helpless.

Often depressed myself, I know the dark places it can take you, and I fear the worst. I am hoping he has merely run away. But he's done that to no avail before.

A girl broke his heart. I know what happens when a girl breaks your heart. I've been down that road. I've been down a road way too similar to his, but I have a large community to fall back on. He has only me, and I'm always far away. I've been climbing out of the hole. He's still sinking in.

I've done what I can to give him hope. I've walked with him where I could. I've helped him. He's told me so. I want to do more. What didn't I say that I should have? Where is the magic fix?

That's something that doesn't exist or I've never known. I know how deaf any words and actions can be at certain times, and I marvel how anyone gets through it. What could I have said?

Life is what it is, and I'll take it is as such. But it would be nice to see some divine intervention or something every once in a while, instead of a seemingly intentional absence.

Goodbye L.A. You Filthy Whore

You promised so much, but gave so little. I couldn't resist the glitz. Despite your constant rejection, I always believed you when you said all I had to do was give a little more. Over and over I fell for your tricks, until I had nothing left to give. You tell me there is nothing quite like you and that I won't be satisfied with anyone else. It's a lie. Lies and fantasy are all you have to offer. I've had enough. I'm taking back life. Good riddance to you.

In a few short months I will have forgotten you. I will fully embrace my freedom. But you will be living in regret of what you lost, wondering how you could let me slip through your fingers. Then you will understand what you are missing. Then you will appreciate me. Then you will love me. Then you will accept me.

What if God Exists?

Does he have complete control? Are there demons in my head? Does he decide to thwart them sometimes?

I can't explain much. But why do I suddenly feel so free? It's as if circumstances are irrelevant. I can just be. Peace, patience, kindness. No problem.

I think I've been in this state of being before. But years ago. Like 8 or 9 years. Maybe I've had days here and there where that freedom has returned. And how do I know this is not one of those times?

Certainly I have had high points in the last 9 years. In fact, the highest highs have happened in that time. But even they aren't often anxiety free.

I've been known to have a couple lows too. Just a few. And with it, and forever long struggle to figure out how to avoid depressive bouts, or at least react to them in a way that improves things. But I hit futility a couple years ago when my methods stopped working, and then even made things worse. I was left to dread the inevitable and hope for the best.

I still have no solution. Except to wonder if God just decided to give me a break. Could it be that someone prayed for my soul and in the dark mysterious world of spiritual warfare there was a victory?

I can tell you one thing. My behavior is almost solely dependent on my mood, which is to say I have little willpower. So what? Will I suddenly be more of who I want to be because my head's not spinning? If I do, am I responsible for any of it?

Well, here's to peace. May it stick around this time.

At Arms Length

I am very guarded anymore. I'm thinking it's fear of more loss that keeps me from seeing anything good in anyone. With any relationship, if I find something I admire and cherish, it will hurt to lose it. So I don't allow myself to admire anything. In a sense, I try to make everyone replaceable. That way if I lose them it doesn't hurt.

This approach closes my eyes to so many unique things about the people around me. These are the things that make them who they are. Everyone has a significant portion of themselves thats pretty generic. It's almost an autopilot function, and it acts in conformity with most of the rest of us - at least most of a subculture. I'm not saying this is bad. In fact, I'm certain a large portion of it is very necessary to function, and is even a good thing. However, the unique qualities of individuals are often lost in that environment. Each person has plenty that makes them unique.

The American culture pressures you to be unique. Being distinctive is obviously fine with me, as I have been saying that that is the thing I am missing about people. But I feel a pressure to be unique just for the sake of being unique. I notice it in large crowds, as if something is tugging on me to get attention and stand out, because that is success in the eyes of my culture. That kind of distinction is bad. It's self seeking. If everyone lives like that you have chaos.

Our culture caters to efficiency, which leads to more conformity, which makes it harder to see what is unique in others. Ironically, it is fueled by the desire for gain, which is typically selfish. So you end up with the selfish desire for gain battling with the selfish desire to stand out. They typically contradict one another, although the culture will tell you you can gain by standing out. If you do, it's usually at the expense of someone else's efficiency.

I've gotten a little diverted here. I was talking about me. By the way, the solution to that catch-22 is to be unselfish.

I certainly can't recall a time where I've felt more selfish than I do now. And perhaps that is my problem, I am trying to create the most efficient relationships so I can gain the most out of them. Meanwhile, I am trying to stand out myself so that I can be admired.

Again, the solution is to be unselfish. I seem to recall a time when I could look at others and admire certain qualities they have. Whether it be some trait like innocence or patience, or it be some skill like raising 4 kids. But I don't seem to ever observe admirable qualities in others anymore. Somewhere down inside, I've decided it doesn't serve me. While I look for what serves me I end up missing it. Is everything a catch-22?

There is one thing I want. It is success. There is one thing I don't want. It is pain. It is for these two reasons I keep most relationships at arms length. Keep it efficient for the success. Ignore the unique to avoid pain.

Ugh...What have I become?(cue DC talk song)

Now I've had deep relationships with many people. Despite my best efforts, there are still those people that it would hurt to lose. However, it's far less than it used to be. Isn't there a word for this? Callous. It's getting easy to be callous. Heck, it's been easy for a while. I am too good at distancing myself from others. I would say better than most. This gives me the ability to really hurt people if I'm not careful...just great...I used to be far more careful.

In conclusion...You know, I'd ask people to call me out when I am a jerk, but they probably wouldn't cause they're too dang nice. But it doesn't matter. I already know how to fix this problem. Hows about I get started?

how to help

I've been wondering what I could do to make this world a better place, and I'm pretty much at a loss. Clearly, there are many forms of service I could partake in, but I don't believe in most of them. I see them as a waste of time, as if they only make me feel better about myself or the help I am providing is vain.

Perhaps I am a little cynical. Perhaps I've just spent my life living under a guise of service. It could be that I have always moved in the direction of easy, or worse yet, apparently difficult but useful in appearance only. People who know me would say I have attempted many difficult things, things that they would never do. But why have I done it? Am I just the guy who tries the difficult to get attention or acclaim? Others would say no, but only because I'm good at making it look like I truly care.

Deeper issues may prevail. And yes, I am fully aware that I have difficultly believing anything I do is of value. But maybe I am right about a lot of it. Of course, if I tell people that, they will say, "no, look at the impact you made on me. I was going through this or that, and you made me feel better." To that I say, what good is feeling better? How important are feelings? And have you ever noticed they don't last?

Now there are things I do think make the world a better place. Like freeing people from abuse or oppression. Or teaching others how to serve or sacrifice from their plenty to help others. Or creating a culture that loves first, takes the last seat, and lives for something other than gain.

Not being one who does any of those things very well, its a good bet that I haven't helped move others into that lifestyle. I would say the best I have done for others is help them with conflict resolution. I am good at teaching people how to approach others and get issues resolved without creating further tension or conflict. But this typically only works with peers who have similar life experiences. I cannot go into the ghetto and teach a gang member conflict resolution.

Teaching a gang member conflict resolution would make the world a better place. Or having a safe, alternative school for kids in the toughest neighborhoods. That is something I believe in, but I am afraid I would be of little help actually teaching or working there. My ability to interact and relate is poor. Maybe if I did it for a while, I would improve, but maybe I should just support those who are good at it.

I would love to do that. But I find myself in a constant struggle to provide for even myself. This due to my pursuit of a highly competitive career. A career that I would define as vain, but could lead to opportunities for me to make an impact in a manner that fits my personality and skills.

Future opportunity is what keeps me going, despite a now 6 year struggle to get going. It's a struggle that sees me trading all current service opportunities to pursue what currently only benefits me. I wonder how many years I can trade before I do something worthwhile. Will I ever get to that point?

Is there a way to have both? Not well I would say. There is a hierarchy of needs, and I have voluntarily placed myself at a low position. This scares me because I know most people enslave themselves at a low position and many stay there their entire lives. This hampers them greatly and forces them to look after themselves when a little more wisdom would have enabled them to look after others. I don't want to be that person.

I can say that I have learned much in 6 years in the real world and I have certainly stretched myself. What I haven't done is apply anything I have learned. Meanwhile, I have been corrupted by my environment, but through which have gained new perspectives and insight that should one day prove useful. I just wish that day would arrive sooner. 3 years ago would be nice.