Last time around

Entering through the open doorway, the scent of old books and forgotten words washed over him. He realized the length of his absence.  He gazed upon his surroundings, as if recognizing his home for the first time.  His travels had taken him far afield of the things he once loved, spectres of years gone by, he thought lost to the sands of time.

He let his thoughts linger momentarily upon these memories, but surprisingly, not experiencing the emotions or fears that had plagued him before.  He pondered the possible deeper meanings, and decided to push these thoughts away. He knew all too well the pain that came along with looking for shadows, where none exist.

He knew he had survived things that should have killed him. He had pushed too hard, too soon, to move on from tragedy. Finally, he had the necessary rest that his body and mind required to heal.  Gazing on phantoms of the past, he heard the baying of wolves in the distance, not feeling the yearning in his heart to join their roaming as he had so often before.

There was no peace, no serenity, washing over him as he reflected.  None of the isolation or withdrawl that he suspected would be coming from the loss of his pack.  As the howls echoed in the wind, he wondered at his solitude and freedom; he reveled in it.  He chuckled quietly to himself out of incredulity, knowing himself a fool.

Closing the door behind him, he looked at his travel stained clothes and dusty boots.  He hung his hat on the hook beside the door, running his fingers through thinning, greying hair, his bone-deep weariness sinking in.  He smiled, enjoying the aroma of old books, understanding that, finally, he was home.

In which things are rambled about in a philosophical manner. Again

Most things in life, we have no control over. The only true choice we have is how to react to what is unfolding in front of us.  The feeling of control, and the feeling of loss, of that control is illusionary.  Once that is accepted, anxiety, fear, and disenchantment wash away.  Having a plan is much the same, once events are set in motion, there is no way to back out, one has to see the ride through, to the end... whatever that is. A sane person wouldn't try to jump off a roller coaster mid-ride, and the same must be said for life.

The appearance of beginnings and endings is a trick. A trick to compartmentalize moments and events on a timeline we feel attached to.  A way to comprehend and rationalize seemingly random and unrelated events.  Most people will not attempt to trace a series of events back to it's root, they will say Event A is wholly separate from Event Q, not realizing that A-Q, and beyond, are interconnected and binary. Binary, in that there are two elements at play:  One that is actual, and one that is perceived. The actual is the inseparable, the perceived is the rationalization.

Trying to take the enormity of life at a glance is like trying to jump to the top of a mountain in one leap.  It is insurmountable and crushing.  The early stages of insanity begin when trying to understand... Looking for a reasonable explanation in a world born of chaotic order.

There is a sentiment that people enjoy saying, "I don't regret my decisions and past, because if I chose differently, I wouldn't be exactly where I am." While true, most take that saying at face value, never looking for deeper meaning, or the connective tissue that led along the path.  It becomes even worse when trying to predict future events, applying laws and rules of rational thought to unformed thoughts and actions and events, is fruitless and a waste of energy.

One can hope for certain outcomes or events.  One can prepare for what they perceive to be the worst possible outcomes.  Any attempt at preparation without ALL the information will be found lacking. Who is to clearly judge when ALL the present?  When is it deemed enough?  Why stop preparing?  Or, better, why start?

Everything can change in an instant. On a personal level, the change occurs the moment we perceive it, even if events leading to that moment stretched for hours, days, or years past.  Despite this heavy and somber tone, I am not uniformly speaking of sad or unfortunate things.  I am also thinking of the beautiful, great and fulfilling things in life.  In retrospect, it is easy to trace the sequence leading to something's demise or end, such as someone's death or a division of people on any level.  But, difficulty lies in understanding what led to something's beginning, such as a tree sapling taking root, or the first time two people recognize shared love and trust.  In trying to gather ALL the information that led to these things, one must begin to accept that the starts and ends are much the same, in that they are the product of it's opposite, at some previous instance.  Living under the pretense that we are separate beings, living apart from all else is false, and will lead to ruin.  Living with the understanding that we are connected to absolutely everything else, and that anything and everything has it's own reaction and circumstance, will lead to deeper meaning and understanding of the path.

Each of us has their own personal path to journey, or cross to bear, but our lives intersect with so, so, so many other people and things, with each intersection, we share a bit of ourselves.  If we were see a map of each time we were  bisected, eventually we would understand that at some direct or indirect level, our maps would begin to blend, and become the epic tapestry of life, ever-changing, everlasting.

Again, who is to say where it began?  Who is fit to judge the end?  I believe the truly important questions are:

How did you react?

What did you learn?

Did you make an impact?

Where will you go?

Beginnings and ending are given too great an importance, it is the paths chosen, the life lived, the lives touched, the legacy left that is important. Cherish the gifts and punishments while they last.  Each is beautiful, educational, and dangerous in it's own way. We each get one life and body; make the most of it. Enjoy the hell out of it.

Live a life to be proud of.  Be a person others are proud to call Friend. Tell a tale to bring the house down.

Cause mama, I'm sure hard to handle, now, Gets around!

For my next trick, I will break my golden rule of blogging.

I did not want this blog to turn into an online journal, but if it doesn't, doesn't that defeat the purpose? Blog is short for web-log. Started (or made popular) by Will Wheaton, the kid that played Wesley Crusher on Star Trek: TNG. He wrote a good book about it, Just A Geek, check it out if you're so inclined. Anyway, that's what a blog is, an online journal. If I just preach or editorialize things, I just look like a superficial jerk.

Also, writing is about communication, in order for that to happen, some one needs to be on the other end of what I'm typing. If I continue to hold myself aloof from my topics, eventually, you dear reader(s), will get bored, then leave.

This is difficult for me, because I'm not a good communicator. I can speak, write, and listen well enough. I can relate to subjects very well. I can relay information if need be. But, a continuous dialogue... not my cup o' joe. I use words to guard myself away from the world. I hide, and shield, myself with words.

Until recently, all of my friendships were short, terminal. I didn't know it at the time, but all my former relationships had an expiration date. They ended because they were situation based, never going any deeper than whatever it was we had in common, be it a job, classes, on the same sports team, etc.

I have never asked questions. Really, I would fail a test before I would admit self-appointed ineptness. I have always felt I would be seen as weak, or stupid if I didn't understand something straightaway, so I never learned how to properly form questions in my mind. In order to get to know someone, there are questions that need to be asked: What's your name? Where are you from? What do you do? Wife/kids/pets? Girlfriend/boyfriend?

Yeah, those stupid, telling, important questions... I don't ask them. I wait, eavesdrop, watch, infer, assume, and do everything a person can to make himself look like an insufferable jack ass to new people. And people remain in the "new" category for a lllllooooonnnnngggg time with me, since I am incapable of asking questions. On the off chance that I do ask a question, I don't know what to follow up with, imagine this conversation, with your bartender:

Me: What do you do for a living?
Ted: Oh, I'm glad you asked, I teach art history at (local college).
Me: That's must be demanding, and rewarding. Hold on a sec... [to another guest] Whatcha drinking today? [walks away to get drink]

Would you tip that guy? I wouldn't. [See, I get it. I just don't do it, for some reason.]

That's a real conversation I've had many times in my bar. I never go back to the question, never follow up. I know the basics, and am able to participate in small talk if I'm forced to, but never anything meaningful, for me or my guest. I'm very very good at my job, functionally. Talk to anyone in restaurants, and they'll tell you, getting drinks for people accounts for under half of what bartenders do. Working with someone who possesses those talents is a dream for me. They can schmooze, I can work. It's not perfect, but it's comfortable for me. Bartenders are there to do all the things I bitched about in a previous entry first, got drinks second. People go to bars to socialize, to interact, and your barkeep is the host, or M.C., if you will. Does that make me a bad beerslinger? Not necessarily, but it does explain why I don't have (m)any regulars, that stop in to see me, not to be at the establishment in general, or have many long term friendships.

[This also explains why I avoid people from my past, but that's a beast for a different day. Not really, real quick: "Catching up" is all about asking and answering questions, neither of which I'm good at. Therefore, I don't want 10 years worth of Q & A to prove how inhuman I can be.]

If I'm getting paid, I can turn on a smile and fake it well enough to get by, barely. But if I'm not at work? Oh, gods, I feel bad for my friends sometimes. I use wit and quick thinking to shield myself from ever giving real answers to questions directed at me. I'm so stuck in this platonic method of thinking that it's automatic, the words escape my head before I can form a real, coherent answer. There's a time and place for being a smart ass... if only I could figured out when and where that is.

I rush so hard and so fast into things, that I don't really comprehend what I'm doing until I'm halfway done. It's frustrating to me to go so far, only to realize that I don't understand the basics. Do I stop to ask? Nope. I plunge head long to finish whatever it is I'm doing, and continue as nothing was ever wrong. I used to think, next time, I'll think before I speak, or, next time, I'll ask, but did I ever? No.

People say they enjoy my wit and humor. While that may be true, [I can be funny, if I'm not trying to be, like Gilbert Gottfried] it's the exception, not the rule. I can be very cruel and punishing if I put my mind to it (or if I don't put my mind anywhere near it, in this case) and I don't know where to draw the line, and give up the ghost of comedy. Things that I have said have caused me much remorse over the years, and for a long time, I went through a phase where I wouldn't talk at all (still happens on occasion) just so I wouldn't offend of hurt anyone. It totally backfired on me, and still does. Instead of being mean, I was arrogant, or uncaring in the view of others, and rightfully so. It all came from the same place, not understanding the basic relations of communications and empathy. I tend toward extremes, these being two. I'm either on or off, it's nothing to do with you, and not meant in an offensive manner, but that's how it's taken.

I can't apologize for past remarks, because I can't take them back. And it seems like an escape to apologize in this most impersonal way, so I won't. But what I will do is pledge to find the balance between the two. Not to compromise what and who I am, but to find the commonality between us and flow with that. To not try so hard to impress with jokes and barbs, betraying my insecurity. To find the reality in situations and ordeals, and face that with humility and brevity.

Basically, I'll try not to be a dick.