Stumbling Toward God?

For the past few years I have worked setting up the sound equipment for a local community’s summer concert series. As I was heading to work yesterday to pick up said equipment, I happened to be listening to Zooropa. For the unfamiliar, the song has a rather long ambient intro with synths and heavily effected voices and samples. Right at the moment when the full band kicks in, I noticed a pedestrian a little ways in front of me suddenly lean to one side and make a motion to hitch up her jeans slightly or something. Or in other words: shake her booty in time to music that only I could hear.

I drove on thinking about what an unusual occurrence this was, and at some point I realized that this coincidence did not effect my belief in God in any way. Because I know that we live in a complex and chaotic world with uncountable variables, and sometimes coincidences just happen.

I was talking with my dad earlier this week and mentioned that this concert series was starting up again, and then I happened to remember that it was while setting up for one of these shows a couple of summers ago that I heard the news that Michael Jackson had died. I do not know why that is important to anything at all, it was just some random detail that I remember for some reason.

So anyway, when I arrived at the shop yesterday, one of the secretaries was on the phone. Toward the end of the conversation it became apparent that she had received bad news. After hanging up she asked me if I remembered [a girl I used to know], and that she had died that morning.

WTF? Now this is just bullsh

I am not much of a “sports” guy, but if there was one sport about which I cared even a little, it would be baseball. I do not now recall the exact timing of events, but the facts are these:

In 2007, the Colorado Rockies made it to the World Series for the first time since the team’s formation in 1993. (They lost.) Around this time, and likely inspired by this, I researched and discovered that there were still four teams that had never been to the World Series. This number was reduced to three when the Tampa Bay Rays reached the World Series the very next year. The Rays were an even younger team, established in 1998. The oldest team that had not yet been to the World Series was the Texas Rangers, established in 1961.

Being the fan of the underdog that I am, I decided that the Texas Rangers were my team. This was probably sometime between the 2007 and 2008 seasons. As it happened, the President of the United States at this time had previously been a managing partner for the Rangers, so I felt a little extra sympathetic for them because of that.

It is now 2010, today the Texas Rangers are playing game 1 of their first ever World Series and I could not be prouder.

Yet, ever the skeptic, I try to look at it objectively. There are thirty teams in Major League Baseball, two of whom face off in the World Series every year, so the odds a team chosen totally at random being in the World Series in any given year is 1/15 or about 6.67%. However, MLB is split into two leagues, with sixteen teams in the National League and only fourteen in the American League. The Rangers happen to be in the smaller league and the odds of a particular team winning that league at any point in the last three years, if I did the calculation correctly, is about 20%. Not particularly good odds to bet on, but far from mind-blowing that I happen to have been correct.

However, baseball teams are not random numbers. Certain teams are objectively better than others, and though there are considerable factors involved, I think that generally speaking, a team’s record is not expected to change dramatically from one season to the next. In 2007, the Texas Rangers finished last in their division. In fact, they had only had one winning season (in which they won more games than they lost) by that point in the decade. Three years ago, no one would have thought they were a championship team. No one but me, that is. I willed it to happen.

In the interest of full disclosure, I actually predicted a Rangers-Cubs World Series, and I wanted it in 2009. I was off by a year on the Rangers. That is not too bad, really. I was completely wrong about the Cubs. Momentarily going back to random guesses again, the odds of correctly predicting a World Series match-up is about 0.45%. (Or put the opposite way, if one announces such a match-up, there is a 99.5% chance of it being wrong.)

But again, I did not choose the Cubs at random. As I said, I love a good underdog, and the Cubs famously have not won a World Series since 1908, and have not played in the World Series since 1945, when a gentlemen showed up to one of the games with two box tickets, one for himself and one for his goat. When the goat was removed from the stadium for, well, being a goat, the man claimed, “The Cubs, they ain’t gonna win no more.” And they haven’t.

Clearly that man was more powerful than I. But it does not trouble me, because I did not really care about the Cubs. As I said, the Rangers were my team. There is a picture of me taken on my birthday last year that I find amusing for a number of reasons, one of which being that I am wearing an my Official MLB Texas Rangers hat along with my typical t-shirt and jeans ensemble, and I suspect that the hat cost more than everything else that I was wearing combined. I am generally neither a “hat-wearing” nor a “spending-money” type of guy, but here I was in my expensive hat, to show solidarity with a forgettable baseball team, apparently as part of some elaborate joke.

An elaborate joke that paid off, of course. Because I am powerful. This is hardly the first time that something like this has happened either. Many years ago, I was reflecting on my life and realized that I had a very effective method of obtaining things:

1. Want it. Want it so much that I can hardly think of anything else.

2. Stop wanting it. Move on.

3. [Somewhat optional] Decide that I was better off without it anyway.

And then whatever it was would come to me. This method has been known to work on everything from toys to specific girls. I had not put this into practice in a number of years, though. Perhaps because I somehow became convinced that I needed to rely on an external god. This baseball thing does not fit the pattern though. Which brings me to the weighty question:

How do I seemingly have such power over such inconsequential things that logically would seem completely beyond my control, yet I remain paralyzed when it comes to taking even simple actions that effect the course my day to day life?

In recent times, I have had several opportunities for insight into how other people see me. And they are all wrong.

The first was last year, when for a brief period, I was regularly interacting with an ex-girlfriend again. In conversation with a third party, she mentioned an opportunity years prior which, according to her, I had dismissed with a moping, “I dunno… I dun wanna.” Which even at the time, I had to admit, I could see that happening. Yet I was troubled. I can see now how my non-confrontational nature, coupled with my general tendency toward vagueness and privacy could easily result in poorly articulated reasons for declining something, but that does not mean that I do not have them. Realizing of course that one should always take criticism from an ex with a grain of salt, I was still saddened that she should think me so shallow all this time.

I have also become reacquainted with one of my junior high math teachers, in a different context, later in life. He was recently relating his impression of me as a student as, “I know I’m the smartest guy in the room, and I’ve got the system figured out so that I can get by with the least amount of work.” I admit that I am a path-of-least-resistance kind of guy, and his interpretation might have accurately described my behavior, but nothing like those thoughts ever crossed my mind. For one thing, a good friend of my who is way smarter than me was also in that class. More importantly, I did not then, nor have I since had any “system” specifically figured out; I am really just lazy.

Another friend has repeatedly suggested that I possess a photographic memory, and recently gone so far as to accuse me of “pretending NOT to have a photographic memory, when [I] really do.” I do not quite understand why. I occasionally remember details quite clearly. There are other details that I routinely can not remember at all: names, where I parked, the location of my cell phone or my glasses case, the current day of the week… Perhaps I am just not understanding what a “photographic memory” is, and those things that I can never remember are simply not “visual” enough for me. Yet, my understanding of a photographic memory is that you can recall details in your head as vividly as if you were actually seeing them at that moment. I definitely do not have that. Some things happen to stick in my mind more clearly than others. Is that not how everyone’s memory works? Or do we want to consider the connection between memory and autism? No, we do not.

Finally, last week a friend declared that my philosophy toward life had become “defeatist”, and how that was “not like [me].” Really? Because I feel that I know myself fairly well, and I think it sounds a whole lot like me.

Then the LORD God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone; I will provide brothers suitable to fellowship with him.”
— Gen 2.18*

I was asked once (well probably more than once, really) what someone could do “as a friend” to help me. I do not remember what I said. (I think you said, “Buy my CD.“) No I didn’t. I probably said that I would let them know, and then never did. [Although in thinking about it, I realize that there is actually a surprising amount of depth in that seemingly flippant answer. I do not want to get into it just now, other than ask you to imagine that I had phrased the same idea slightly differently, “Show me that you appreciate my music.”]

As to the topic at hand, I keep coming back to the person I consider to be the best friend I ever had. Back in high school, I had a friend who, if she perceived that I had something on my mind, (something that, knowing me, I was most likely trying to conceal) then she would not rest until she had extracted it. I can not say that I appreciated it at the time; I once got so angry that I threw her out of the house. (Or so I was told, as I was actually so angry that I could not remember the details afterward. Impressive, really.) It was some years after we had gone our separate ways in life before I realized that someone like me really needs someone like that.

Certainly I meet people from time to time that ask a lot of questions. But I usually interpret such people as just being nosy, like they only want an answer so that they can check off that box, not because they actually care what the answer might be. No, what I am looking for is someone who is not necessarily naturally inclined to ask the tough questions, but who cares enough to step out of the comfort zone.

My, aren’t we picky?…And why the hell should anyone do that for you? I do not want to say that I do not care about anyone, because I think that, on rare occasions, I will do something that shows I care. But regardless, I am really not involved in anyone else’s life.

Sometimes I get to a point where I am absolutely going out of my mind struggling with some issue, and I will finally break down and call someone up and we will meet so that I might unburden myself. Although I feel much better afterward, those relationships never actually seem to be any deeper after that. I have actually done this several times and I do not think it has ever been the same person twice. More importantly, I have never been that person to anyone else. No one has ever called me up to say, “I’m going out of my mind and you’re the only one who I think would understand.” Maybe it is just because most people do not let things get that bad before doing something about it. Yet even when people do share serious things, I rarely (if ever) feel as though I am the first to know.

I write this blog and I generally expect people to read it. Yet I do not read anyone else’s blog, and, well I do not even know what this “twitter” thing is exactly. When I started blogging years ago, there were a few other blogs that I followed, but I gradually gave up on each of those as they began posting even less frequently than I did. I still check in every once in a while if I happen to think of it, but that is rare. Some other people have blogs that I have looked at when first brought to my attention but never went back. Sometimes someone will mention that they have a blog but do not mention the address, in which case I assume that they do not actually want me to read it. Though now that I think about it, maybe they just want to see if I care enough to ask. Does anyone out there have a blog that they want me to read?

I blog to be honest, to show a side of myself that I can not show in person. I blog to connect with people. After all this time, it was not until last week that I realized that that really does not work at all. It might make sense as a starting point, and I think part of my motivations in the beginning was to start conversations and discussions. Yet when people leave comments, I either do not respond at all, or else respond in a way that does not encourage further discussion. I tried last week to be more intentional about responding to comments, but I still think it probably came off as condescending. As for private conversations, it is rare that I even admit to having a blog, and I am extremely reluctant to discuss any particular topic in depth. Why is that? I guess it is because the “right” people just never ask the “right” questions.

I simply do not try very hard at maintaining friendships. On some level, I do not think that I should have to. You either like someone or you do not, you enjoy their company or you do not, you find them easy to talk to or you do not – you really should not have to “work at” anything. But that is not really true, is it now?

“But you don’t understand!” I protest. “I have realized all of this before… I did have a friendship that was important to me… I was trying to be specific and intentional and I still got it all horribly wrong!” But that is *my* problem, and I really have been much too hard on my friend who at least had the decency to say, “I can’t do this anymore,” when most people just fade away. Oh well, “next time I have friends”, right?

So, to answer the original question, a real friend would not take all of this BS from me.

Where exactly do I expect this magic friend to come from? Or these “right” people with their “right” questions? Deep down I suppose I have always believed that there would only be one person to whom I could really talk, one person who would really understand me, and if you aren’t my soul mate then I’m just not interested. I have not been looking for a friend, I have been looking for a “savior.” That really is not going to happen, is it?

I was at a bar last week, watching those (quite frankly, unattractive) people drinking and smoking. I was doing neither, I was only there to play music. A couple of thoughts occurred to me. One was that I never seem to “belong” anywhere. It seems like no matter where I am – church, school, job, this bar, whatever – I am always there for a different reason than everyone else. That is a whole topic in itself. The other thought that I had was that I really need to get over myself and try to be friends with some “real” people.

So I have been trying to be better about initiating contact with people, actually asking the questions I wonder about, following up on things they have mentioned previously… which probably does not seem that impressive to you, but none of which comes naturally for me. It is really too soon to tell what is to come of it.

*Someone seriously might want to double check this.

It’s no secret that a friend is someone who lets you help
It’s no secret that a liar won’t believe anyone else
–U2

I lost two friends last week. I mean, not “lost” lost, but they have moved away. One moved physically, the other, for lack of a better word, emotionally. I know that I just recently admitted to more or less lying to everyone I know, but these were two of the people who, among my current acquaintances, had known me the longest, that I saw with the greatest regularity, and were on the very short list of people whom I consider to know the *real* me, if anyone could make such a claim.

I wanted to clarify: I do not lie on my blog. When writing my last post (which I think unintentionally ended up as a sort of summary for the entire blog) I found myself having to reread a lot of old posts in order to refresh myself about sequences of events and so forth. Clearly a lot of the posts are vague. [No, really?] I like to think that was more so in the earlier ones and that I have gotten better over time, but your opinion may vary. I also go through long periods of not posting anything, but then sometimes come out with a rash of posts that are about as brutally honest as I have ever been about anything in my life. A lot of times I will work in a subtle joke that I might only expect one other person to get. There have also been a few cases where I have attempted to conceal a private message for one specific person. (Not always for the same person, and I actually do not know if any one of those attempts has ever been successful.) I guess I have to admit that the last example does seem to border on deceitful. But I stand by the statement that I do not lie on my blog. I do not write something intending for you to believe one thing when I know another to be true. Or at least, I do not remember ever doing it on purpose, and I hope that I never have, because the whole point of the blog was to be honest.

In one older post, I mention that it is actually the person who writes this blog that is the “real” me, and the one that you see walking around that is the made-up personality. That may be a bit extreme, and it certainly is the opposite of what you would probably expect, but it is reasonably accurate. I have a lot of “friends” on Facebook who (as far as I know) have no knowledge of this blog. [Edit: well I guess they do now.] There are people who read this blog that I know are not on Facebook. And of course, there are people I interact with in the real world who do not do either. I would say that anyone who does not read my blog is probably missing the larger piece of my personality. I’m wishing that was not the case now. It would be much better for me if I could talk openly in person about the things on my blog.

There are a lot of things that have lead me to question the nature of friendship lately. A little while ago I watched the entire series of a show called “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip.” I’d never heard of it until it was recommended to me. The show is about the cast and crew of a “Saturday Night Live” type show (not unlike “30 Rock”, except that it’s a drama instead of a comedy.) Anyway the first episode is about these two guys who are coming back to the show as Head Writer and Producer. Basically, a few years prior to the current story, one of them had been fired/encouraged to quit over some controversy, and the other guy had quit in support and they ended up making a couple of successful movies together, but now the second guy was being coerced into coming back to the show and the first guy came back as well, rather than continuing to make movies and his reason was basically that they were a team. Of course it’s only a TV show, but I was inspired by that friendship and loyalty and just that overall sense of “what are ‘we’ going to do now”. The series actually had a second example of such a partnership, but I won’t go into that.

Back to my two friends. The first was a simple case of new-job-new-city-ok-bye. It all happened quite suddenly, but that is the way life goes. My regret there is that we were never really as close of friends as I always thought we could be and I am sorry to have let that opportunity pass. The other case is challenging because it is a lot more my “fault”… at least in the sense that if I had said and done things differently in the past then this particular trouble might have been avoided, and I fear that my efforts to correct mistakes of the past have only made it worse. Is it too late to heal? I honestly don’t know.

A long time ago there was someone whom I cared about very much. This person was on what I saw to be a very destructive path, and nothing I said or did seemed to make any difference. This was so painful to me that eventually one day I made up my mind that if they insisted upon self-destructing, then at least they were not going to take me down with them, and I walked away. I still tend to think of that as the hardest thing I have ever done, to turn my back on a friend. Was it the right thing to do? I have questioned that many times over the years. But I was so young. Is it possible that I have never been truly able to care about anyone since? I never thought about that before, but I suppose it might be.

I bring that up because I realized that I (quite unintentionally) wrote two posts in a row in which I mentioned my own funeral. That is probably not a good sign. Along with everything else, I could see how someone might read that and finally say, “That’s it, I’ve done all that I can for you… I’m done.” Not that anyone has, but I recognize the possibility… because it is exactly what I once did.