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Sunday, December 02, 2012
THE BIG ONE
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about lies. It’s hard not to during an election season; lying becomes a game, an art during that time, and we are fed a steady diet of them. The only good thing is that that lies are calorie-free. That’s the kind of diet I think we can all get behind.
The funny thing about lies is how much we say that we are tired of them. For proof, head to an online dating website. I swear to you, at least 90% of the profiles I’ve read, the woman talks about how she is tired of liars and how she wants an “honest” relationship. It sounds great on the surface; I’m sure she has been victimized by a man’s falsehoods. (Hey – we guys have certainly taken our hits from some of you ladies as well.) But any honest look at relationships reveals that a little bit of lying here and there is what keeps things going. No woman wants to be told that her butt does indeed look bad in those pants. No woman wants to hear her man admit that Christina Hendricks is exactly what he wants. And she certainly doesn’t want you to give an honest answer when she asks if you’re sexually attracted to any of her friends.
Guys: she is not asking because she’s thinking threesome. Trust me on this.
Instead, she wants to hear “Your ass looks amazing.” “You are exactly what I want.” “You are way hotter than any of your friends.”
Look, I’m not suggesting that dishonesty should be your go-to response. It just seems to be embedded in us. We are born, and then the lies start flooding into our lives. There is a cycle, and with each successive generation, we keep peddling the same crap. It is inexplicable. It is crazy. It is stupid.
Think about the lies we tell children. “There is no such thing as monsters.” Fuck yeah, there are! Whether they are strapping bombs to their bodies and walking into a crowded shopping area, or they are polluting fresh water and making people sick in the name of profit, they are opening fire with assault rifles in movie theatres, or they are molesting altar boys, there are monsters all around us. We are not safe from them, no matter where we live. Think of the terror that registered on your face once you realized that the world is a scary, brutal place. I suppose we’re lucky our faces didn’t get stuck like that, eh?
What we’re doing is implicitly telling kids that it is okay to lie. “I didn’t do it.” “It was like that when I got here.” “My homework is done.” “I took a bath.” It escalates. “I’m sure I was going the speed limit.” “I’m working on that right now.” “The check is in the mail.” “I would never cheat on you.”
There are two lies, though, that bother me most. The first, I suppose, is a matter of personal philosophy, so to some it may not count. That would be “Everything happens for a reason.” I would find this particularly repulsive if I were a child with a horrific disease. What possible reason could there be for a ten-year old to have leukemia? How does that make sense to anyone? It attempts to rationalize the shitty, random nature of reality, and that offends me deeply. I think I would punch someone in the face if they said that to me in that kind of scenario.
But the worst lie, the whopper of them all, that we tell people of all ages is this: “Good things come to those who wait.” The idea being that we should exercise patience, I suppose, but this is such a pile of horseshit that it makes me want to punch puppies. In the face.
I believed this one. For a very long time, I believed this one. I tried to be patient. I led my life on the fringe, and I took away meager scraps of happiness. But then I realized that I had put my faith in a lie, and that is a nasty feeling.
The truth is this: good things come to those who bust their asses, accept and learn from failure, and never give up.
Over the past two years, I have lived out my reaction to discovering this truth for myself. I have worked harder, feared less, and created more success for myself than I had in the previous forty years combined. I have seen first-hand what happens when I have walked outside of my comfortable little bubble and doubled my efforts. And it has been worth it.
Lies, you see, make us soft. They make us stagnant. They take away our inner drive and our fight. And that is a shitty, shitty thing. So do yourself a favor: find the ones in your life that are holding you back and destroy them. Confront them. Eliminate them. Then get to the process of busting your ass. Whether you succeed or fail, you will know one thing:
You will have lived honestly.
1:17 PM
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Saturday, July 28, 2012
STUPID THOUGHTS ABOUT DYING
It was a misty, rainy day in Lillehammer, Norway.
I had walked uphill – because everything in Lillehammer is uphill, even when you’re going
downhill – to the edge of the city to visit the Olympic History Museum. It’s a
beautiful facility, and the stuff inside is seriously cool; the most
comprehensive museum of its type, with a special secondary museum devoted
solely to the winter Olympics that took place there in 1994. But when I
finished my tour of the place, I was faced with a decision to make: go on to
the next place… or keep going uphill.
You see, further uphill… well, further up a large
hill/mini-mountain called Lysgardsbakken, is the ski jump. I’m quite fond of
the ski jump. Watching crazy people ski down a ridiculous slope and fly a
couple of hundred feet through the air is cool. I’d be terrified to do it
myself, but I admire the hell out of those that do it. They have nothing but
guts. No parachute, no air bags. Anyway, needless to say, I chose to continue
uphill, no matter what my screaming calves had to say about it.
The Lysgardsbakken isn’t too
steep. Just steep enough. And when it’s drizzling, the sun is playing hide and
seek, and there’s literally not a soul anywhere within visual range… in
hindsight, I’ve had better ideas. But up I went.
I wandered around the place for a while. To say that it was
astonishing would be underselling it. Like everything else in Norway, it was
beautiful beyond words. I could look out over city, across Lake Mjosa,
and to the large rolling hills on the opposite side of the water. Breathtaking.
Simply breathtaking. I stood for a few minutes just taking in the air, tasting
how clean it felt to my lungs, feeling my pulse slow. It was as peaceful a
moment as I’ve had in my entire life.
So of course, I proceeded to ruin it.
For whatever reason, the most likely being that I’m a jerk,
a thought came unbidden to me: if I fall down and break something while trying
to get off this thing, I’m screwed. No one is nearby, no one can hear me. I
could lay here for a long time.
It got worse. I suddenly freaked out that I was going to
have a stroke and collapse. Would I fall into the high weeds? How long would it
take to find my body? My cell phone didn’t work there! Would a stray reindeer
eat my corpse before the authorities could find it and send it back to the
States? OH MY GOD, I’M GOING TO DIE ALONE ON A MOUNTAIN IN NORWAY!
So much for my pulse slowing down. Idiot.
Now, we all have a death fear or two. My primary one is
drowning. I have real issues with the idea of drowning, and if I could avoid
that, I’ll go to my grave happier. Plane crash comes in second, though my real
paranoia kicks in when I think about being in a plane that crashes in water. If
you’re also afraid of drowning… you’re welcome. I’m just sharing a nightmare
with you.
If asked how I would prefer to die, I would always answer
“heroically” because I am a giant nerd. But given a second option, I’d pick “in
bed having sex… with someone else’s wife.” I realize that’s unfair to both her
and him, but it doubles my chances of something interesting. Orgasmic heart
attack or shot by angry husband. You could do worse. Drowning, for instance.
The key is, of course, to control your fears. You can’t let
them rule you, and you can’t let them ruin your day. Was it possible that I
could have stroked out on the Lysgardsbakken? Sure. But I could do that while
trying to help one of my students write a research paper. So I got hold of
myself and pulled it back together. After all, I was standing in one of the
most pristine and lovely places in the world, and it was totally unspoiled by
the sounds of man or machine. Opportunities like that come along very rarely.
Besides, as I made my way back to the museum, I had plenty
of other things to worry about. Like that six hour plane trip across the Atlantic I still had ahead of me.
5:54 PM
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Sunday, July 01, 2012
THE MESSAGE
The past month turned out to be one of the most important times of my entire life. As usual for June, I tacked on another year of life, but beyond that I undertook a grand journey, one that would carry me to four U.S. states and two European countries. It was a trip that will stay with me for the rest of my life, one that changed me in vital, yet subtle ways.
Looking back at it now, and trying to absorb everything that happened along the way, I am struck at the range of moments that it contained. There were highs that made me feel as though the spirit of an eagle had entered my body and was carrying me aloft into the clouds. I experienced beauty that at times was beyond my comprehension. For someone who spends his life communicating with words, the number of times that those words failed me was staggering. It was a humbling reminder of how, even though I like to believe otherwise, I don’t always have the answers.
Humility isn’t easy for me. Typically, I believe that humility is the realm of suckers. If you are what you claim to be, then owning it is fine. If you’re faking it, you deserve to eat pavement. The only difference is whether or not you’re a dick about it. For me, it’s the “don’t be a dick about it” that can be kinda difficult.
Anyway, the main part of the trip was a ten day/nine night stop in Norway. A lot of people asked me before, and since, “why Norway?” It isn’t a common destination for American tourists; my research showed that only about a half million of my countrymen head to Norway in a given year. In part, that’s why I went there. Places like Paris and Rome have been done to death by the tourist set. I wanted a different experience for my first trip.
That’s right- my first trip. I didn’t get a passport until January of 2010. I’ve been plotting ever since on how to use it, and after two years of detailed research and planning, I finally did this June.
My Norway visit took me to five different places: Oslo, Bergen, Stavanger, Kristiansand, and Lillehammer. Each place had something special to offer, and I had wondrous moments at every turn. I could go on and on about what I did (and I will in the upcoming book I’m writing about the experience and on the website dedicated to it), but it is easiest to give you a small taste of the profound effect I felt, and the changes I went through, by talking about one small moment.
Oslo is home to the Nobel Peace Museum, an amazing facility dedicated to putting the spotlight on those who have won the coveted award, as well as dedicated to the cause of peace itself. The exhibits during my visit were astonishing; one photo exhibit focused on the plight of women in Afghanistan, while another turned the lens on humanizing a platoon of U.S. soldiers and what they really do during their time in-country. Upstairs there was an exhibit called “She-roes” which explored the lives of women who were trying to bring peace to war-torn places like the Sudan. In every room I encountered history, knowledge, compassion. It was awe-inspiring, one of those moments in time where you put your own life in perspective and think about what a whiny jackass you can be over trivial stuff.
However, it was near a stairwell that I discovered the thing that left me the most speechless. There was a long, spiraling gold tube there that extended from the ceiling down to the very bowels of the building. Next to it was a small table that held a box of paper shapes, a pile of small wires, and a box of colored pencils. Clearly, this was something for the kids who visited to do. I approached, though, and read the instructions. They were simple: write your message of peace on one of the papers, and send it into the world by tying it to the gold spiral.
A challenge! Surely I had a message of peace, yes? My brain began spinning, and I found myself thinking about my experience so far in Norway and about how I was feeling. And a few things came to me in rapid succession. One, I hadn’t felt angry- about anything- in days. I also realized, for the first time, that I had barely spoken. Aside from checking into my hotel and buying tickets to enter places, I had been almost mute. My predilection for monologuing out loud was absent. Also, and this really shocked me, I realized I hadn’t worn my headphones in days. Normally, I have my music going constantly.
My face felt warm, and I began to realize that I was smiling almost uncontrollably. I thought then about how screwed up the world can be. I thought about that hate and vitriol spewed in the political arena, a battle to see who can shout the loudest and say the stupidest thing. I thought about “celebrities” who are famous only for being famous and demanding attention. And then I thought about the overwhelming solitude I was feeling at that moment.
I picked up one of the shapes and began to write. My message was short, simple, direct. Done, I used a piece of wire and tied it to the golden spiral, then I watched it flutter away like a leaf on the wind, making its way into the heart of peace. Satisfied, I headed downstairs to retrieve my backpack and walked outside into the midday sun. Walking away, I felt a sense of calm wash over me and I stopped in my tracks. My arms went limp at my sides and the harbor breeze wafted across my skin. Then it started: voices in different languages, a passing trolley, a boat horn in the distance, a baby crying in a nearby stroller. It was - in the words of one my idols, Spalding Gray - a perfect moment, as I lived out the message of peace I had just sent out into the world:
“I’m listening.”
2:33 PM
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Sunday, May 13, 2012
EXCERPTED FROM "THE NORWAY DIARIES" - which happens to be my Applied Project (equivalent of a Masters Thesis) due December 2012
May 13, 2012
It’s been a hell of a couple of weeks, and I thought the
worst – that huge pile of work - was over. But today rocked me back on my heels
a bit.
Putting it in reverse: I finished the semester strong. I
completed all assignments ahead of schedule, posted my practicum collection –
now titled YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE – to Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Lulu
with days to spare, and turned in my final two research papers with a week
still to go before the due date. I’m not going to do that “humblebrag” shit; I
kicked complete and total ass. People started buying the collection and
enjoying it. I started enjoying making their money. It really felt like the
payoff I needed after working so damned hard for so long.
This was not all.
In between doing everything else, I had been collecting
together a best-of from my work at my comics and pop culture website The Comics
Waiting Room. Once everything else was settled, I wrapped that up and went the
self-publishing route with it. That came out about a week ago. Yesterday, I did
a book signing at a local store. It is incredibly validating to meet people,
talk to them, and see them find enough value in it to spend their hard-earned
cash on it. I was mentally flying by the time it was over, my self-esteem
levels showing green. All felt right with the world. Hell, I even got an email
from Eurail telling me my pass was on its way. I woke up this morning 27 days
away from wheels up for my journey. Glorious.
Today being Mother’s Day, I woke up and called mine before
even getting out of bed. Good boy, right? Had a great chat, caught her up on
what’s going on: trip preparation, potential new job, traditional life stuff.
She had received her gift in the mail from me on Thursday, so I didn’t screw
that up, either. The good feeling from last night carried over into today. Then
I got online.
My high school was not a large one. Our graduating class had
fewer than 150 kids, and we all knew each other pretty well. Most of us spent
at least the last eight years of school together. Even being far away, thanks
to social media, I can keep up with a lot of them. So it was a slap in the face
to see the news that Matt Schuster had died this morning, taken down by brain
cancer. 42 years old. Are you fucking kidding me?
To my knowledge, Matt is the third one of us to make an
early exit; if there have been more, I’m in the dark about it. This, though, is
the first one to really get to me. I knew Matt pretty well when we were kids,
and he was as warm and generous a soul that you could imagine. We had also been
in contact through social media, and we discussed getting together and catching
up if he ever had a decently long layover as he came through Phoenix. What I remember most about him: he
had a heart filled with kindness, and like me, he left our small town roots and
set out for adventure. His career as a flight attendant took him all over, and
from reading his Facebook posts, he made friends everywhere he went and had an
absolute legion of people that loved him. There is no question in my mind that
his life was wondrous and amazing. Whatever afterlife he arrives at is in for a
treat; the parties there just got a lot more fun.
Still, I am stricken by the entire idea. I, of course, am
about to turn 42 myself, and am heading off for a new adventure in less than a
month. But now my little midlife crisis suddenly feels as though it has more
urgency, more need behind it. It’s a traditional response to death, I know, to
question the direction of your own life and what you are doing with it, but
dammit, I’m okay with that.
What it boils down to is that it really can be taken from you at any time. Matt was flying all over the
world and being happy when fucking cancer came along and took it from him. Like
he was a tiny obstacle in its path of terror, it ran him over and consigned his
existence to memory. It is horrific just to think about it. But it could be
anything, really. Car wreck. Aneurism. It doesn’t matter; Death is a random
bitch, pointing her bony finger and gazing us into the abyss when we least
expect it.
I grieve for Matt, and I feel sorrow for all those that
loved him. But I also must take from this the feeling I have today and use it
going forward. Am I living the life I should be? Am I pursuing happiness and
love? Am I making the most of my moments?
This isn’t something I can put off for twenty-seven days;
it’s something I need to be more aware of right now. Time is precious, and I am
agonizingly conscious of the fact that it is running out.
9:12 PM
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Friday, May 04, 2012
SO I’VE BEEN BUSY
Ahh.. that whole education thing, dontcha know? What started
in spring of 2011 is coming close to reaching an end. I have now completed nine
of the ten classes for my Masters degree, and I’m pretty damned excited about
it. I’ve been working myself into the ground over the last nine months in
particular. Each of the past two semesters, I have taken three classes while
working full time, teaching two classes a semester as professor, and engaging
in other activities like writing my first comic book, serializing a novel online,
running the Comics Waiting
Room and more. I’ve made a lot of sacrifices in my personal life
along the way. But I needed to get it done. I had to make this happen.
So I did.
What sort of outcomes am I seeing? Some wonderfully tangible
results, thankfully. After nine classes, my GPA stands at 4.22 on the 4pt
scale. I’ve gotten A+ in six courses, and As in the others. I was accepted into
the Phi Kappa Phi, a prestigious honor society. I’ve made new friends. And I’ve
gotten prolific as a writer in ways I could not have imagined when I started.
This past semester, I undertook a practicum. It required me to write eight new
short creative nonfiction pieces in the four month span, put them together as a
short book, and direct publish them to the Amazon Kindle and Barnes & Noble
Nook platforms. Just to show I’m insane, I wrote nine stories, added two from
last summer, and got that bad boy up on the web for purchase. I even added a
third way it could be downloaded, because that’s just how I roll:
Three of your dollars. Cheap.
On top of that, my faculty advisor prodded me to finally put
together a best-of collection of my writings about comics. Sure, why not? I
didn’t have enough to do already, right? So I did it, and it is now available
as well. In paperback and exclusively on the Kindle:
So I’ve been busy. Now I have some freedom to have a life
again, which I’m pretty excited about. What’s up with you?
4:38 PM
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Monday, March 19, 2012
9:44 AM
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