Month: November 2015

After the second text/IM about my Facebook post last night I felt it was time to clear up what I meant. My friend Su later shared a quote (obviously and hilariously) misattributed to Abraham Lincoln, “The trouble with quotes on the internet is that you never can know if they are genuine.” I get that. I can be rather misleading at times. My words seem to point to emotions that often are not there. Last night I wrote,  “I’d love to say I’m surprised by the number of people who unfriended me since my divorce, but I am more and more aware of the conditional nature of relationships and am only recently settling into the idea of what relationships existed purely under the condition of marriage.”

The statement was a reflection on the friends and family that I lost in the divorce. No, let me use clearer language than that. I did not lose them. They switched me out of their lives like a dead battery, erasing sometimes 15 years of a relationship in a keystroke. It should’ve made me really angry but it only made me sad. It also made me wonder what lies and stories they’d decided to concoct to explain my sudden absence from their lives. Perhaps you can just say,  “Oh they are divorced, so he no longer exists.” I think that answer leaves that person open to the question of, why doesn’t he exist anymore? The answer: Subjective Reality.

As I write this my head is spinning from the doublespeak and straight up foolishness forcefully ejected from the mouth of Trump’s campaign spokeswoman. She is confidently clinging to the story that thousands of Muslim people in New Jersey were watching and cheering the fall of the Twin Towers. To support her claim she says that hundreds of Trump supporters have called in to say they too saw this go down. See, that is the very definition of subjective reality. Thousands upon thousands have claimed to see Tupac walking around after being buried. More still believe Elvis Presley never actually died; in fact that false hope birthed the Elvis impersonator surge that followed his death. All three of the groups I mentioned believe absolutely that what they say is real and the way things are. Their reality is shaped by this. It doesn’t necessarily correspond with what is really happening outside of their own heads. My argument is that it doesn’t have to. If you are wondering how that connects to people deleting me from their lives, it is simply the next step in that chain of events.

My primary complaint about so many people deleting me from their lives is one of subjective reality. They decided to boil down the whole of our relationship to one connection–the one between myself and my ex or them and my ex. They made a choice then to sever bonds that had grown bark and engage in a false narrative that allows them to so quickly dismiss someone who supposedly meant something to them, or to allow that I never meant anything at all. This is the same way that people decide to believe one thing, thus uniting them and inoculating them from the masses and often from reason itself.

It raises the question: what are the other relationships in our lives based on? What is the subjective fulcrum upon which that connection can pivot upon in an instant? I mean to have a life in which my relationships aren’t keyed to a fulcrum. Deep lasting friendships are about roots and connections. When I first joined Facebook I felt like the interface was going to help me deepen those connections. Instead it exposed how so many relationships beyond my individual ones are based on a fulcrum. That pivot point is different for everyone, but we all have relationships that are based on something and in the social media age we gather more and more of them and we can sever more and more of them easily.

I don’t know what that says about the state of real lasting friendships, but I suspect that those connections can’t really exist over the internet, because what happens to them when service goes down?

 

 

I used to be an athlete. I remember how amazing it felt to be standing across from another player and thinking, “this guy has no chance to slow me down today.” The idea that I am far out of someone else’s league is a powerful one to hold in your mind and more often than not I was the guy who was having the idea. That thought process–that belief of personal pride and power resonated far beyond the field. I felt it a lot of the times when writing or in the classroom and especially at the console. I believed myself to be an A-rated gamer. I was the SniperWolf, the original Slayer 1, a stone cold digital beast who couldn’t be slowed let alone stopped.

This was in the era of Pong.

I grew up on all of the original games and watched everything get faster and bloodier and more realistic. I crawled through the muck with the first Pitfall and moved on to Uncharted. I played everything and for a while I did it well.

Now imagine how it feels to be on the other side of the field; to be the guy who someone see looks at and says, “this dude has no chance to slow me down today.” It is tough to take. Yesterday we held our first annual post-Thanksgiving gaming tourney in the house. Over the course of the year the boys and I battle for various gaming ‘crowns’ and I reset the championships this thanksgiving to give everyone a fair shot to be the champ. Thus far we’ve gone through Call of Duty 3, Basketball 2K, Madden 16, and Super Smash Bros. The CoD3 and Basketball were team battles. The youngest and I were able to wrestle that win away from the brothers Grimm. The rest were stunning defeats–each uglier than the next. When the 6 yr old spanked me at Madden, I knew things had gotten bad. I can’t even blame the injured finger (perhaps psychologically, but physically it played no role). The fact is, I need to start preparing for succession.

The boys have passed me by. I don’t like it at all, and I don’t know that I can take it lying down. I am too young to be moved into a ‘daddy was dope once’ role…

Still pecking away with a wounded wing. I must say the situation reminds me of how reliant I am on these ten digits. I found that there was a lot I just couldn’t do as well thanks to the injury. I’ve been lucky with my hands. Only a handful of injuries ever happened my entire life, and each time it felt like I was losing my ability to function like a human being. Yes, i am exaggerating, but it is true that some parts are more important to some people and for me the hands have meaning.

The boys and I spent the day gaming and talking and playing cards. It was a really good chance for me to sink in with that mindset and lifestyle and let go of all the grownup stuff for a while and just enjoy life for what it is.

A downside to the day was developing a keen awareness of how typical my kids really are in terms of really not being about that much. They are about video games to be certain and they enjoy sports, but there isn’t much else past that. I am raising three kids that spend the majority of their lives seeking distractions to being in their own skin. The thing is, they simply don’t know any other way to be. If the situation isn’t mitigated then I will have three more of the demotivated humans I spend the lot of my ‘complaint allotment’ screeching about.

I can’t figure out what to do about it in the few moments left to blog, but it is good to be aware of what is happening and sink back into it and try perhaps to nudge them towards some of the wonderfulness that exists beyond the screen–even here in Arizona.

I am hacking away at this with an injured hand. I jacked up a finger in this morning’s Turkey Bowl and watched the appendage swell to Bugs Bunny proportions. It is still swollen and bruised. I even stuck a pin in it to let out some of the pressure but that didn’t work. It is all jacked up in there. Still, my head is in the right place. I’m in a place of thankfulness.

I am thankful for my boys. Despite being a rowdy bunch addicted to all forms of video gaming, they are my favorite dudes in all of the multiverse. I love them and I am grateful for their love and for the time that I have with them. I am grateful for love in general. Grateful that I can still find the space in my heart to love and that I can still be loved in this short but meaningful life we have.

I am grateful for the handful of real friends I have. I am grateful for my work and for the ability and the space to write. I am grateful for this mind which had been so neglected and undernourished but still works so hard to produce.

I am grateful for the daily opportunity to get better.

Turkey day hasn’t been much of a holiday in my family ever. Sure, we get together with loved ones and have a meal, but that isn’t really something that couldn’t happen any other day of the year. I suppose there’s a bit of the commercialist in me who doesn’t recognize it as a holiday without a mascot. I don’t want to believe that is real, but there is some truth to that. In fact, the sales for black friday start at 6pm on thursday, further proving the lack of any real investment in that holiday for the corporate side of our nation. I say all this in order to say that I am ready to start believing in Thanksgiving, not as a historical event but as an opportunity to give thanks.

Its hard enough to get a kid to say thank you, let alone compel them to say what they are thankful for. Yet here I am trying to spin up that activity tomorrow. I feel like the kids will be able to attach to it quickly. I feel like they don’t actually know what they are supposed to do with turkey day, especially after the divorce.

What I want to do is to take some time for them to reflect the way I want to reflect. In other words I want to spend a few minutes thinking about all the things we are thankful for and perhaps writing them down and talking about those things for a bit as a reminder of what kind of world we live in. It is also a reminder of how fortunate we all are to 1) be given life at all 2) to be given life in a country where you are able to speak your mind without getting shot (usually).

Some Thoughts

1. That wound up being far more rambling than I intended…

Turns out ISIL was the smartest group in the room.

I wouldn’t have thought so. I felt like the media banter about how slick ISIL was seemed more like media propaganda to prop up a story that wasn’t really that important to me. This isn’t the first group to run rampant through the thousand or so mile stretch of the middle east. No, what made these guys special was a handful of crafty dudes with an Adobe package or just straight up iMovie and some rudimentary film making skills. Jihadi John raised the stakes a bit before succumbing to the age old American trap of becoming the storyline for an episode of a TV Drama (this time it was Madam Secretary instead of Law and Order or even Scandal). All of the things the group was doing felt more like an infant’s flailing about than any sort of coordinated plan.

How wrong we were.

See, the first wave let us know they were there and had potential. The second wave showed us they had the military prowess to wage a legitimate ground campaign against the Syrian army. The third wave is the one that really matters. The third wave is happening now. The group has staged a staccato flurry of highly visible terror attacks designed, primarily, to wake up the countries that were hit and force them to take action. Why? Why rile up everyone around you to start beating the war drums and eventually beat your ass? Well, here is the truly devious part: They did it because they wanted everyone to start swinging at them.

Follow me here: So, you set off a bunch of nations to start attacking you. Eventually those nations run afoul of each other and someone gets hurt in the process. What happens then? Well those nations that were about attacking you are suddenly looking at each other as a larger and more present threat. Sadly, it worked. Recently the Turkish Air Force shot down a Russian fighter plane. The Russian pilots were reportedly murdered as they floated to the ground on parachutes. In a perfect world there would be apologies and a renewed interest in working together against a common foe, but this is Putin we are talking about. There will be justice before long.

So, now we need to wait for the other show to drop and see what will become of the coalition of the willing as we confront a battle that might be quickly spiraling out of control. In fights like these the only people who win are the ones who want chaos. In other words, the only people that win are ISIL.

On a night of horrendous football (hey, ref you stop the clock when the player goes out of bounds inside of two minutes. It doesn’t matter if he crawls there. This isn’t college…) I can reflect on the enormous value of time to yourself. I sat here at home grading and watching football and cleaning my garage and binge watching Jessica Jones (more on that later) and playing video games. Notice I didn’t say writing. Given the hectic nature of the month (novelvember, nanowrimo, write your ass off month) it felt good to step back and not do that for  day and to instead let the creative juices collect as I unwound.

Unwinding is a gift unto itself. I was really surprised at how rarely it actually happens for any extended period. Finding time to oneself is nearly impossible in this world. So I was especially pleased to be able to have it and to not squander it by trying to do too much and getting all worked up about it. Thats a problem too. Once we have a moment it is all too easy to waste it on things we know ‘need to get done’. I did spend an hour cleaning the garage, but that was super fun. I listened to an audiobook and sorted and threw away stuff and found all the xmas stuff that needs to go up at some point here.

So all in all it was a great day to reflect on life and love and the pursuit of happiness. I learned from the experience. I learned that there are a lot of things in life that make me happy, and having time to do those things is extremely important. In other words, I can’t be good to other people if I am not truly being good to myself.

Some Thoughts:

1. 4 months till I’m 41. I last thought about that four months ago.
2. I’m not ready for 41. I’m in terrible shape for it in fact.

I stumbled into K-pop. I know how it happened. I was researching for a project I’m writing and was curious about J-pop, K-pop and the differences between them. I tumbled very quickly into the slippery world of Babymetal, 2NE1, Crush, Exo, Arashi, and Perfume. I was utterly surprised by Crush and Zion T.  Before long I was way down the rabbit hole and looking back up at the world with a different point of view.

It started with Mamamoo. The all-girl group borrows heavily from girl groups of the 90’s all the way through Destiny’s Child. Only, these girls do it better. The difference is that with these K-pop (and to a lesser extent, J-pop) groups, they know exactly what they are and remain unrepentant about that. I’m stuck in a musical realm where the level of scrutiny and judgement flares outward from the artists themselves to an often discerning audience who expects artists to reach beyond themselves and be more. This doesn’t seem to be the case in K-pop where the musicians are often striving to be the best version of themselves that they can be. They are also incredibly talented.

No, they aren’t giving me something I’ve never seen before. Yes, it often feels like a rendition of something I vaguely remember from the past, but it is a reflection of the now that echoes the then. It isn’t special, but these artists are especially good at what they do. I won’t wear their tee shirts, but their songs and videos make me happy.

My kids did not fail. They excelled in fact. I will admit to a significant amount of doubt. It felt like we were trapped in a cycle of plays centered around one kid. It was clear that the other team knew it and would aim to knock him out of the game, which they did for a time. It wasn’t enough. Our boys played some of the best football they’ve played this season and they did it for all four quarters. The end result was a championship trophy and a swell of happy children.

I haven’t forgotten about the words I wrote the other day. I think these kids were put too much at risk at times and the ball only touched the hands of 4 kids this game–which is far too few for as much talent as we have. Still, I get that it was far too late in the season to change course. We finished with the horse we rode in on, but we finished strong.

Now I want to spend a few minutes talking about Drake. Ever since Hotline Bling I have started to really think about this dude as the male version of Taylor Swift (and her as a middling modern version of Alanis Morrisette). I went back through his history in albums and mix tapes and found that, basically, he gets dumped a lot and writes songs about it. Sounds like Taylor Swift to me.

Let’s review the history: The dude wrote songs (and often entire playlists) about Cece and Bria following break ups. This newest song seems to hint at the relationship between Drake and a young lady named Nebby who he broke up with in 2009. Check her instagram feed and you’ll find a girl with 40k followers and a photo of a cake shaped like her own butt. She’s special. About as special as the song. Still, its not even the first song he’s written about her, or the other girls, or Rhianna, or Nikki Minaj… In short, he’s a break up junkie masquerading as a sensitive dude.

That is so very Degrassi of him.

I was planning to sit down and write a ten minute review of Netflix’s Jessica Jones, but I failed to watch it. That led to a philosophical moment, which in turn led me to wax here on the idea of failure. In short, failure is a construct. We talk about failing as an act–a moment in time in which something we wished to happen did not. We speak about failure in more lasting terms. Failure is alternately defined as the “omission of expected or required action.” That definition sits at the heart of the point I’m squeezing into 10 minutes and some untold number of words. Basically, we use failure as a social reinforcement tool. We hold it over others and ourselves as a motivator–the stick that moves us through the unwanted chores and hard moments of life. In that sense, I think failure is a terrible idea to hold on to. I think there is a better way.

There’s a good chance my kids will fail tomorrow. I watched the practices and came to the conclusion that we are going to do exactly what we have done against this team the previous two times. This is bad, because I also have it on good authority that the team spent the week not practicing but watching game film of us doing the things we always do and recognizing it so they can stop it. So, my kids could fail. The beauty of that is they will move right along from that failure to the immediate question of, “Can we get a drink from Quiktrip?” This doesn’t mean that they don’t care. It means they don’t hold on to failure the way we are taught to as life accumulates on us like so much unwanted baggage. For them, failure is still a moment. They learn from the moment, consider how to better handle similar moments (because the exact moments never happen twice) and move on.

This is a natural thing that I feel like I’ve been trained out of over the years. I hold on to failures in writing, work, love, and sports and let the lessons weigh on me and warn me off on future endeavors. Failure shrinks ones ability to take risks and life is nothing if not a series of incalculable risks. So, I say we don’t hold on to failure. We simply fail, or succeed, and then we do something else.