Stumbling Toward God?

I panicked. I sent out a number of strange emails to various people which I rather regret now. For someone who usually says so little, I am often surprised at just how much trouble I can cause by simply not knowing when to shut up. I wondered briefly if I am actually manic-depressive, but just happen to go years between manic states. Yet lacking formal psychological definition, I have to imagine that the very nature of bipolar disorder is rapid and frequent mood shifts.

I also quit my job. This was not a spur-of-the-moment decision, because I had been uncomfortable there for some time. The definitive factor though was the thought of losing something else. A few months ago, I inherited some assets. Most of it is in stocks and mutual funds and shares of jointly owned properties, which I do not really understand and have probably only lost value since coming into my possession. (With me cheering for “The Collapse” all the while.) There was also a not insignificant amount of cash. My sister put a down payment on a house. I bought a bass for $300, used. It was the cheapest of the ones that I was considering, and I never even got around to buying a much-needed larger amplifier to plug it into before the band broke up. I did not buy glasses to replace the ones that I lost a few months ago, that were ten years old anyway and could probably use a prescription update. I did not buy shoes to replace the ones that I threw away on Memorial Day almost two years ago. I did not buy a computer despite enduring months, if not years, of “You need a new computer” every time I saw a certain friend. In fact, aside from monthly bills, I rarely spend money on anything other than food and gas.

Truth be told, I completely ignored this development. And it probably goes without saying, I told no one. Maybe it was because when I first found out, I did not want to believe it until I actually saw it, and then when it took over a year for all the paperwork to be finalized I just did not care anymore. Maybe it is because it is really all just numbers on pieces of paper that have no tangible meaning to me. Maybe I was afraid that people would have different expectations of me and I like it when people make me dinner. Also, it seems that I just get off on keeping secrets.

I did not ask for this, I did not expect it, and it is not like I get to keep it. Please. I do not know if it will be the collapsing economy, mismanagement, fraud, identity theft, or whatever. (Am I concerned that by announcing it online that I set myself up as a target for a potentially nefarious international reader? A little, but I hope that the fact that my last name appears nowhere on this blog will slow them down.) But as I am sure to lose it, why get excited?

I had to make rules though. When discussing financial matters and concerns it is perfectly reasonable to refer to my low income, because I did have very low income, and I have gotten by my whole life on the simple formula money in > money out. Regardless of my bank balance, I do not like to operate “in the red.” However, I was never, ever allowed to say “I can’t afford it.” Bull crap I can’t. Unfortunately, one day I found myself saying those very words, and I immediately thought to myself, “Oh no you di’n't!” I lied. Worse, having done so, I did not apologize, and I did not explain. I suppose in that moment I realized it was the beginning of the end. I would like to say that it was not personal, that really I was only lying to myself, in trying to pretend that nothing had changed. I do not know if that matters now.

Someone might ask, “Well why not just give it all away and then no one ever had to know?” But no, I can’t do that. Certainly not that. So what exactly am I afraid of losing? Money? It would not exactly seem so. [I don't care too much for money, 'cause money can't...] Yet when I think about how many of my family members worked hard, and then died in order for me to have the opportunity to be able to do whatever I want with my life… if I am not out there doing whatever I can then I am just pissing on their legacy.

So I quit my job to focus on music and my other projects, because I can. As someone who honestly can not remember the last time that I made a major life decision that I did not regret later, do I really think that *this* of all things is a good idea? Of course not. I know it is not so much money that I never have to worry about financial matters again, just not for right now. But this is the real world. Someone my age is supposed to have a career, a real job with benefits and a retirement plan and all that. You can’t just up and quit your job to chase your dreams like there is no tomorrow. Not in the real world. It just does not work like that.

Oh well… doing it anyway.

It occurred to me recently that I seem to only be motivated by loss. I never really appreciate the things I have, or the things that are given to me. On the day of my “graduation” from college (nine months after I actually completed my degree), my family informed me that they had not gotten me anything for a graduation present because, “We know that you don’t like things.” My reaction to this was probably the polar opposite to what most of my readers are probably thinking. Something along the lines of, “Aww, they DO understand me…” Unfortunately, there was a “yet” in there somewhere and some options presented, but I figure they’ll forget eventually. “Gifts” is definitely not my love language.

I do not appreciate things; I do not even really appreciate people. I also tend not to take advantage of resources and opportunities available to me. I really do not care very much at all until it is too late… and then, boy, do I ever lament what I used to have.

I mentioned, last month, a sermon which caught my attention. It was on tithing. Now I have heard more than a few messages on “tithing” and “giving” and whether or not the mandatory 10% tithe as described in the Old Testament still applies under the New Covenant and so forth. These always come off as awkward, because on some level, when a pastor says to give to God, he is really saying give to the church, i.e. himself. It is not always so blatant as “God wants me to have a new private jet!” Yet I think that even the most honest and well intentioned of preachers have trouble objectively distancing themselves on this topic. This particular preacher was different, however, because the group did not come from a single church, but was comprised of people from all over the country. When he spoke of tithing, he was talking about going back and giving to their home churches, which would not directly benefit him. So he did have that going for him, but he was also an older gentleman, what I would best describe as “a preacher for a different generation,” who took the hardline conservative stance on every topic across the board and I had already spent most of the weekend disagreeing with him.

That is a lot of perhaps unnecessary build up merely to say that the sermon emphasized the blessings that *will* be received by those who tithe. Another member of the group also happened to be the pastor of a church, and shared that in the average church something like only 30% (I forget the number, maybe it was even less) of members actually tithe. Yet he claimed that a significant majority do in his church, and further claimed that as a direct result of this, not one single member of his congregation had been laid off in the declining economy. The message was clear: tithing leads to abundance.

I, however, walked away with the implied corollary: a firm conviction that I was going to lose everything. I was also quite certain that I did not want to lose everything, and that something needed to be done. This was a dramatic realization, coming as it did after more than a year of inactivity.

Yet, it had already begun. I had already lost my band; I had not literally lost my job, but I had made up my mind that I was definitely leaving; before the weekend was out I had “lost” two friends as previously described. I had lost something else that is harder to define – hope, faith, something like that.

To be continued…

Six Fingered Man: I have just sucked one year of your life away. [...] How do you feel?
Westley: [Whimpering moan].
Six Fingered Man: Interesting.
–The Princess Bride

Did I honestly spend an entire year doing absolutely nothing productive? That just can not be. “What about [this]?” I ask. But that was at the end of 2007. “Well how about [that], that was like, last summer, right?” Checking my records… January 2008.
No… just NO.

And the worse part is, it’s not even the first time.
Some days you wake up with your head in a cloud
And when you look up, a whole year’s gone by.
Some days you wake up from living underground
And when you go out, the sun spits in your eye

…But it’s alright
It’s alright.
Some days are like that.
–Less is More

I was out and about on Monday (which is highly unusual, because normally after working all weekend, I do not feel like leaving the house for a day or two… or five), and I was thinking about how, in the beginning, I felt compelled to start visiting churches; felt that I was led by God to be baptized, to pick a permanent “home” church, and other things like go to New Orleans. I have not felt anything like that for a very long time. I idly wondered when exactly I stopped feeling “led by God.” I sort of thought it was a rhetorical question, it was one of those things that just slowly fades away. Then later in the day, it suddenly occurred to me, Gee, ya think maybe it was when you felt “led” to abstain from marriage, and you basically told God to “eff off“? Are you ever going to finish that story?

Oh right, THAT. I started to write something a few months back but never finished the thought. I have now posted what I had written so far, with my best guess at a back-date.

I spend a fair amount of time thinking about my own mortality. Probably more than most people, but then, I figure that most people probably do not ride a bicycle late at night with questionably adequate lighting. When I do, I think about what might happen if I was killed. My affairs are not exactly what one would call “in order.”

I wonder if my family would have the funeral here, there, or just wherever they happen to be. I wonder what sort of service they would do and if they would know whom to invite. Will they be able to say, “It’s what he would have wanted”? Good luck with that.

Of more immediate concern, if I were to die, then my place of residence would be examined, my effects sorted. And what sort of things would they find? For, blog aside, I am an extremely private person, and I have secrets. First of all, there would be evidence of many projects, both physical and computer-based, most abandoned in various stages of completion. It used to be my policy to never speak of whatever I might be working on until it was finished. That way if I succeeded, I could impress people by pulling something seemly out of nowhere, and if I failed… no one would ever know. I have relaxed this considerably in recent years, probably to my detriment, but there are still projects which I have never mentioned to anyone, and I wonder how many of my ideas will anyone be able to make heads or tails of.

Then, of course, there is my life. Past, present, future. Events, situations, goals… certain things that other people might know about only because they were directly involved, not because I have ever shared with anyone. I imagine that some things might come to light that would surprise people who thought that they knew me. And there are some secrets that I would take to the grave.

I don’t really blog much anymore. Truth is, I don’t really do much of anything anymore. I’ve had half a post written plus several more ideas that I have meant to get to since about November.
That doesn’t matter right now.

I got a message today… some bad news that has absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with me if you know what I mean, which of course you don’t, unless maybe you do, in which case you’re already more in the loop than I. Where have I been? …Where have I been?

This is my fault.
What? HOW?
I do not know. But I know that I have failed, somehow.

I can’t do anymore of this right now.

As the year began to draw to a close, I realized that it was time to choose a song, like I do every year. (Or at least, have done in some years.) Except… I didn’t really listen to music this year. Again.

Well, that’s not entirely true. Earlier in the year, I took an interest in some steampunk bands of whom none of you would have heard, but they did not have any new material this year anyhow. I also remember tuning into the modern rock station at some point and hearing this gangsta-reggae song called “Paper Planes” by Sri Lankan-British female artist M.I.A. Is that what the kids are listening to these days? I couldn’t get into it.

Yet, I managed to come up with a winner, and then to make it interesting I thought of a few runners-up. As you may recall, the year got off to a promising start with Matchbox 20 singing about the world burning to the ground. The world, however, did not burn to the ground in 2008. I know, I know… I was right there with you Matchbox 20; I don’t know what happened either. Also, in response to that post, someone suggested I look into The National. They had a pretty good sound, but not best-of-the-year good. I rather enjoy “Bleeding Love” by Leona Lewis. You might be thinking that an over-produced pop song can’t possibly be any good, and until recently I would have agreed, but there’s something about this one that strikes a chord. I did a little research, and apparently this single has broken all kinds of records, so maybe if you’re the sort of person who, like, actually leaves your house every once in a while you are thinking, “Is he serious with this? I’m sick to death of that friggin’ song!” But I don’t care what they say, I like it.

So, the winner then. I don’t even remember where I heard this song, and it took awhile to track down from the little piece that I had stuck in my head. My pick of the year is “Kids” by MGMT. Mainly because when I heard it, I thought that it sounded a bit like The Purple Robe – if The Purple Robe was actually any good. So, as some of you may know, I blocked YouTube from my computer, but the rest of you can try your luck here: the #1 song of 2008.

Sometimes I look back on life and wonder, “Where did it all go wrong?” Or even, “Where did it all go right?” What were the defining moments of my life? And for the most part, I’m disappointed, because there are really very few instances that I can point to where everything changed. Every day is a decision to make, some are large some are small, and generally the consequences of each choice are not know for a long time. It is not so much a series of defining moments as transitions between phases. That annoys me.

Yet lately, I keep finding myself returning to five words. Here, unlike so many other instances, my life can be clearly divided into before and after. My reaction to those words, and my highly uncharacteristic behavior in the following period set a course that has defined everything about who I am today. I would never have started going to church, which means I would not have met any of the people who have been my closest friends over the past several years, would not have the job I have now, would not have joined the band that I’m in now… and without any of those ties, I would have no particular reason to stay in this area, and I may not have chosen the school that I went to… So when I ask myself, “Where would I be today?” There is no answer, because I truly might be anywhere at all, doing anything. Five words.

“We”
“Don’t”
“Date”
“We”
“Court.”

[This post has been in "draft" status for about a month and a half. It is disorganized and slightly out-of-date (considering I went to another wedding last weekend) but I'm just going to post it anyway.]

Over the past few months I’ve heard a lot of “when you get married”s being throw around. A couple of these were directed toward me, but they more often occurred in a conversation to which I merely happened to be a third party. It’s as if everyone is going to be getting married in the next year or two. Maybe it’s because we’re all turning 30 now and suddenly realizing that we haven’t accomplished as much as we thought by this point. I find it interesting that very few of my peers are even actively dating. Most are either married or not in a relationship at all. (And a good number of the latter have not dated anyone the entire time that I’ve known them.) I would be tempted to say that my generation just isn’t that “in to” marriage, but those conversations suggest otherwise.

I was asked a little while ago if I like going to weddings, to which I did not have a ready response. I don’t really strike myself as the sort of person who would like going to weddings, but actually, I do. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I look forward to weddings. For weddings are all about hope, and who doesn’t like hope? Of course, once there, I find that some weddings are much more enjoyable than others.

I went to a wedding this summer. I was surprised to have even been invited, because I did not known the bride well and had never met the groom at all. Walking in, I wondered who, or even if I would know anyone there. It turned out that I recognized quite a number of people from church, and my first thought was, “Doesn’t she have any real friends?” What… people from church do not count as *real* friends?

I also felt some awkwardness over another matter. It occurred to me afterward, “You do know that it’s only awkward because you choose to make it awkward, right?” Yeah, well, on this particular matter, that seems to be the only choice I have left, and I chose the $#!* out of it! Which works on an emotional level, but sure sounds foolish when I put it into words.

Every time I go to a wedding, I can’t help thinking about how my own wedding will be. (You know, since other people’s weddings are obviously all about ME.) I wonder about who I would choose for a best man, as there is a rather high turn-over rate in the people I spend time with and consider my closest friends. I also wonder about whom to invite since I have family spread all over the country, many of whom I’m not particularly close to and do not care one way or the other if they came or not, but that I think would consider it a colossal snub to not be invited.

Then I think about who definitely won’t be there. I went to a wedding a couple of years ago which started with the two mothers lighting candles or some such. (A lot of weddings have something similar.) It struck me that my mother would not be doing that at my wedding, and my day only went down from there.

So, no mother. No grandparents. And hey, while we’re on the subject, no bride, and no wedding, because obviously, once again, you’ve forgotten the arrangement!

I fully intended to follow up my last post within a couple of days with some thoughts on graduating from college a whole nine months after I actually finished as well as some points on the nature of family and friendships, perhaps throwing in a little something about my trip to Las Vegas, but I am above all, profoundly lazy. That’s all old news now.

A couple weeks ago I was playing a game on a custom board made by the host of the evenings festivities. The board was very well done and received much praise from all parties. Of course, in my head, it begged comparison with a game I created myself a few years ago, being that they both are maps of real countries and concern actual cities and the routes connecting them. His board, of course, blows mine out of the water. I console myself by emphasizing the fact that I did not have the luxury of working for a company that actually designs mapping software, I had to create that whole thing myself. (Which was complicated given that the United States, as you may or may not know, is far from square.) Further, while he merely took an existing game and substituted a map of France for a map of Germany, I created my game out of nothing in three days. But I doubt that anyone really cares because the sole copy is not in my possession, nor would it be interesting to anyone who was not in 20 Somethings four years ago.

Whatever. These days, I do woodworking. Or at least, I tell people that I do woodworking. Or at least, I used to. I tend to drop a truly ridiculous amount of stuff on the floor when I’m my little shop. There do not happen to be too many things in a woodworking shop that can take a concrete landing with no ill effects. Say, didn’t you used to be a juggler? Like, in a circus and everything? Wow, you must have been HORRIBLE at it. How nice of you to bring that up.

Anyway, my most recent project was a present for a certain child. My initial idea was a toy car, because boys like cars, no? (And not just any car…) But I quickly realized that that was more complicated than I thought it was going to be, and I was on a pretty tight deadline. So I decided instead to go with a sign with our name on it, which was more personal, faster, and just all around better. Of course, I quickly found myself saying, “Man, I sure hope this kid isn’t a perfectionist.” Yeah. Come on, he’s one year old, he’s not even going to know what this is. Which only raises the point that if I did a really sweet job, he could have that thing for his whole life. Or he could toss it out as soon as he is old enough to decorate his own room. Whatever.

Interestingly enough, that means that the only projects that I have totally completed since becoming a “full-time” woodworker have been gifts for other people for specific occasions. Which proves that technically, I actually can get something done if I only have a proper deadline. However, last weekend, I was at a thing at some peoples’ house and THE STUFF IN THAT GUY’S GARAGE THAT HE HAD BUILT HIMSELF MADE ME NEVER WANT TO MENTION MY OWN (lack of) WOODWORKING SKILLS AGAIN.

Now, it seems like whenever I’m being “humble” (or as I prefer to think, “realistic”) about my woodworking there always seems to be someone who wants to point out that I have made guitars before. “Before” being the key word. Back when I was in a school for guitar making, with all the right tools, having my hand held the whole way. And I will admit, they are two of the best looking guitars that you are likely to lay eyes on. But the fact that neither one of them is actually playable is really a source of embarrassment for me so let’s all stop bringing it up, shall we?

In any case, on Tuesday of last week I finally hit “critical mass” of frustration with my current tools and decided to research and calculate out exactly how much it would cost to equip a shop with reasonable tools. In the meantime, a friend of mine had joined a band and started doing some recording, which reminded me, “Say! Wouldn’t this be a good time to actually mix and master that CD that I recorded two years ago?” So I spent some time on that, only to realize that I suu-huck at mixing. Which was not particularly a surprise to me, it is just kind of amusing because that is technically what my “real” job is. (No wonder Orange County is so upset.) It did not help any that my source material was sub-par. I wouldn’t buy this… why the heck should anyone else? Of course, considering that I have purchased a – count them: “a” – song(s) in the past four years, perhaps what I would buy is not an effective measure of quality music. Regardless, I really just wanted to use this project to get the wheels moving musically to allow for some more interesting stuff that I have planned, but no, those drums are freaking killin’ me and I’m really going to have to work something else out. Someday.

But however hard I want
I know deep down inside
I’ll never really get more hope
Or any more time
– The Cure

Yesterday, I happened to be privy to a conversation which indicated that Ottawa was the capital of Canada. This caught me by surprise, because I had sort of assumed that the capital of Canada was Quebec or Montreal or someplace like that (i.e. that I had heard of.) Upon returning home, I looked it up and confirmed this to be true. I then faced the realization that I am, in fact, a dumber American than I had realized.

You know, for some reason I was never required to learn the state capitals in elementary school, although that deficiency has never actually come up except perhaps in game show type situations. But, world capitals? Isn’t that at least kind of important? Especially, um, our direct neighbor? Ok buddy, can you name the capital of any country other than the USA:
Uhhhh… Paris? Moscow! Berlin, Johannesburg/Durban/Pretoria*, London. Mexico… City?

Ok, whatever. (TheHagueBeijingLima…) Yeah, great. But how can I not have heard of Ottawa? I don’t know. Maybe they have a sports team or something? Like the Senators. What? That can’t be… oh, it turns out that that is correct. Now how did I possibly know that? And yes, Senators, Capital. I get it now.

*This is not correct, by the way.