Stumbling Toward God?

Black Friday was last week. I have heard the stories and always wonder why anyone bothers to leave their house that day. I am told it is because of “the deals!” I was actually working for most of the day, but I did come home for a couple of hours and checked out some of these “deals” online.

As I may have mentioned, I have been wanting to get into buying guitars as an investment, but as yet have been reluctant to pull the trigger on anything. There is a certain series of limited editions by a well known manufacturer out now that have caught my eye, and as I had hoped, the guitar megastore was having a Black Friday 15% off sale. So I actually had a guitar picked out, added to my online shopping basket and credit card in hand… but when I entered the promo code, the price did not actually change. I then checked the restrictions on the offer and found that “Some manufacturers have chosen not to participate in this promotion,” and there was a list that appeared to include every brand of which I had ever heard. This is why I hate that store. Screw those guys.

Now you may be thinking that my mistake was in trying to shop online on Black Friday, when any savvy shopper knows I wanted “Cyber Monday.” I do not know where this Cyber Monday thing came from, that sounds to me like a total fabrication by online retailers. But in any event, I did check back on Monday, and again there was a deal (I do not recall if it was the same 15% or not) and again it featured the no-brands-you-know restriction. Of course there are lots of other places to buy guitars online, yet none of the others felt the need to even waste my time with phoney promotions. (Which may reflect well on their potential for my future business, were it not for what I am about to tell you.)

On another note, earlier this week this week, I also had a revelation. There has something that has not made sense to me for quite awhile now. Given what we know about timoth:

1) He hates leaving the house
2) He hates spending money
3) He loves the internet

If he is going to buy something, how does timoth feel about online shipping?

I would have made this a question if I ever made a second quiz, but I will just tell you: I hate online shopping. Absolute last resort. Most of the time, if something is not available locally, then I would rather not have it at all. Or else I tell myself that I will order it “later” and then never do, which is more or less the same thing.

Of course, I have ordered things online in the past, just not recently. In fact, I can not actually remember the last time I did. So perhaps this hatred has intensified over time. And it does not make sense to me. I have tried to rationalize that I just feel more comfortable having the product in hand before I pay for it, which makes a certain amount of sense, except when you consider that I use a credit card for most things and therefore I am technically not yet paying for it at the time of the transaction, but that is getting a bit abstract.

For some reason, perhaps I heard something on the radio about supporting small business, I was thinking about how much I prefer local business as a concept, but that behaviorally, I prefer the anonymity of big box stores. Most people seem to like personal customer service, but it freaks me out if I walk in a store and someone asks if they can help me. (But that is just me, you guys that do not have crippling social anxiety should definitely support local businesses.) So anyway I was wondering (again, still, furthermore), if that is the case, then why do I not embrace the even greater anonymity of shopping online?

I do look at online stores quite often, and I probably check that online auction site at least a couple of times a week. I just never buy anything. Yet, I pay my bills online, I bank online, I even buy things like plane tickets and charitable gifts online, so it is not that I do not trust the security of online transactions or anything like that. I simply will not buy anything that needs to be shipped to my house.

That is where it dawned on me: for whatever reason, it seems that I do not trust shipping companies at all.

I admit that it is totally irrational. I do not know where it even comes from, as I can not think of any problem I have had in the past in that regard, but there it is.

Now, at some point you must have been wondering how I can talk so much about never shopping online when I started the post by talking about very nearly buying a guitar online… Yet, I left out a key detail. I was going to buy it online, but then pick it up at the store myself. Of course, one could point out that it would still have to be shipped to the store, but then everything in the store had to have been shipped to the store and really that is on them and not my problem if something gets damaged, but then do I really trust those charlatans to inspect and NOT hand over a damaged product… I most certainly do not.

Anyway, I did not actually buy it, now did I?

As part of the financial unrest going on, someone declared today to be National Bank Transfer Day. It all had something to do with Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot and V for Vendetta, which I do not totally understand. The goal was to transfer your money from the “too big to fail” banks and into a local credit union. I had wanted to participate myself, but unfortunately, one thing I hate even more than my bank is leaving my house.

However, there is a certain financial institution that sends me a lot of junk mail.

I was lying awake last night when for some reason it dawned on me that in “well known” fairy tales in our culture, the protagonists are predominantly female.

Observe:
Snow White
Cinderella
Sleeping Beauty
Little Red Riding Hood
Goldilocks and the Three Bears
The Little Mermaid
Rapunzel
The Princess and the Pea
Rumpelstiltskin
Beauty and the Beast¹

Compare With:
Jack and the Beanstalk
Pinocchio
Aladdin²
The Frog Prince³
The Boy Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was⁴

Neutral:
Hansel and Gretel – Obviously, one of each.
Puss in Boots – While the cat’s master was male, I think this and any other stories in which the main characters are animals fall into a seperate category and gender tends to be largely irrelevant.

¹ Depending on whether one considers the Beast to be a protagonist, in which case this would be like “Hansel and Gretel.”

² This is technically from a different culture. In fact, the only other stories which I could name from 1001 Arabian Nights (even if I do not actually know the plot) are “Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves” and around seven or so “Voyages of Sinbad.” Since all of these feature a male protagonist, I would hypothesize that that particular culture’s folklore does not contain the female dominance that I am attempting to illustrate here.

³ This story also features a female main character, (not to mention an animal) so might not rightfully belong in the “male protagonist” category.

⁴ Is this story even “well known”? I was really reaching by this point. There were some other tales that I did not include because I remember nothing about them beside the name. Whereas on the other end of the spectrum, (realizing that I am presuming a lot about my audience) I suspect that most of us could probably recount the story of “Little Red Riding Hood” start to finish right off the top of our heads.

Even ignoring the above caveats in my quick list of tales, the females outnumber males two to one. If we were to throw out anything with a footnote…. well then that is simply no contest at all.

I welcome your comments and counter examples.

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.”