Thread Bare - Is It Time?

I intended to write about my feelings, yesterday, but was too close to the moment. I had simply watched a relatively sophomoric movie that tried to encapsulate all the misfitting pieces of the sexes. It actually did a pretty decent job and although it became a bit pandering and leaned too far into the realm of “chick flickdom,” nevertheless it held some nuggets to extract.

Mostly, it caused me to let my guard down and fall into that sleep that romantic notions always induce. It made me consider the possibilities if I allowed for a woman to be in my life in any capacity beyond conversation. As a recovering romantic, it was too many swallows when I should have never taken the first sip. The problem with being a man is that women look good, they sound good, they smell good, they taste good and they feel good. Some women (I’ll even allow they number in the majority) even try to be good. That is the problem; humans trying to be good. We put so much hope and anticipation into something that is a magnificent notion but impossible to apprehend. I was once more lulled into the dream and when I awoke from it I felt the loss of the rest and peace it had promised.

I have known nice women. I have known kind women. I have known all sorts of women but I have also known the core creature. I was never ignorant of the tremendous pain their absence could inflict and have often experienced it in their presence. That has never deterred me. I have always approached finding love with not only my eyes wide open but also my heart. As a young man seeking out a match and counterpoint to myself I was unencumbered and willing to contort myself to fit the objects of desire that crossed my path. That may have been an exciting adventure and a stimulating wealth of experiences but I lost myself along the way. When I married, I married very well. I married a woman of character and strength and intellect and beauty and purpose. I also married a very damaged and fragmented person. I have absolutely no regrets. I would marry her again and again and again. But she married a lost soul. She married a mirage. She was the first to see it and I didn’t live in denial but was actually so far removed from my true self that I could not see it. I suppose to a great extent I was a parasite, sucking the life out of her to propagate the illusion I had of a life of my own. Because I had lost myself in the journey to find a mate I lost her, too.

It has been over five years since she left me but I have yet to fully leave her. I have tried to reclaim myself as it is superior in every way to redefining me. I am anxious to relocate myself, as well. Several years ago in the middle of an otherwise frivolous conversation I blurted out that I never wanted to inflict me on another woman. I was startled by my own words and have mostly adhered to their conviction to this day. Some things have become clear. I recognized that no amount of contorting me or remaking me or redefining me would win her back; or produce a positive result for me alone or in tandem with a new love. There are simply parts of my being that are who I am. I am powerless to change them and only moderately successful at restraining them. All assume they can be their own savior, or if not, that a lover will fill that job description. I tried very much to not look to women as my salvation and I did not portend to be theirs. However, I have succumbed in small and even large ways to the allure of letting a woman complete me, revive me or revise me. My past does not haunt me but has placed me where I am this day. My present does not define me but has left me without a step to trace or a sense of direction. I do not dwell on her or all I have felt as lost even though my conversations would contradict that on the surface. I am really involved in my current struggle to establish a stable and prosperous place for me. What I am about is being wholly me in order to have something to contribute in a relationship.

There are many that insist I am hiding and have a fear of intimacy. What I actually fear is that I have no capacity for intimacy. I am aware that my interests in women are not all that deep. I am a far better man as a friend than I have ever been as a significant other. In actuality I have been too successful at being the insignificant other. I have complex passions but simple needs. I do not allow myself great expectations yet set lofty demands on my person. I am aware of a great many things. I am keen to my own contradictory behaviors. I have developed quite a reliable façade that manages to keep most at bay. There are always those persistent creatures, however, that ply into my life and ignore my saber rattling and all of my fortifications. I have a precious cadre of men and women that refuse to allow me to exclude them or push them out of my life. I love them all and am grateful for them.

I am also aware that I need new encounters to replace stale memories. I am not a person that desires to relive or regret the past. I have enjoyed being me through almost all of the stages and changes. Usually I only look back with fondness (while bitching and complaining in the present). I am very much unhappy with the current situation and do a tremendous amount of bellyaching. Still, I am not without anticipation and hope and I always make plans. Sadly, so many recent plans have been still-born. For too long I have been suppressed in addition to being depressed. I have also digressed and failed to impress. Not the foundation for a stellar performance. But there are a few odd sparks in the ashes and embers of my desires. None burn very hot and barely any radiate much light. I am not anywhere near the dynamic and energized force of nature I was as a single man or visionary rebel. I have an image in my mind that I am currently still being delivered deadly blows although I am stooped on one knee trying to shake off the daze. The one thing I do know is that I will only stay down if someone can finish the job and kill me. Otherwise I will get back on my feet and one day unclench these fists and teeth. In preparation for that defiant stance I am trying to make allowance to find a lover. All of this is still very sketchy as the hell fires by which I am being pummeled have produced a fog over my vistas. Finally, I have longings once again. I am very cautious at this juncture because I do not want to turn on the charm but inflict harm. The thing that distinguished my love for my wife from all other encounters was that I had arrived at a place of maturity in one significant region when we met. I saw her for all that she was not just as much as for what she was. In that realization I discovered I was excited about what I could do for her and not what she could offer me. The intent and the nobility of my gesture were sincere. My execution could not have promised more and delivered any less. I do not want to be that ineffectual in my next found love. I would love to boldly state I have learned from my mistakes but I have “living disabilities.”

So from all of this structure and all of this need to explain my ruminations on the idea of loving once again; what can it possibly have to do with the longings induced by a romantic movie? I am not looking for pacification. I am not looking for a topical application of sex or warm fuzzy feelings and walks on the beach. I need to have it all. I cannot have what I crave in bits and pieces. I want it all assembled and not artificially sweetened. I question my ability to be intimate. I question the ability of a woman to be intimate, too. There is a thing inside the feminine soul that measures a lie as a shield against the pain of the truth. That is not good enough for me. There is a switch inside the feminine psyche that can erase all initial intentions and forget she ever claimed fidelity, loyalty, passion and affection. That is entirely unacceptable. That sets off alarm bells that I cannot trust. I can trust. I would not ever be hurt if I could not trust. Betrayal, not trust – is what I cannot do. I cannot be anesthetized by seduction to accept betrayal. I have found that relationships become a list of demands or a wasteland of compromise. Compliance replaces compassion. Passive surrender supplants active submission of both to each other. I have intimacy issues. I feel a liar and a thief because making love means so much to me. This has become such a problem that I have not dated and certainly have not copulated in over six years. Now, I do not even look at women. It started with not being able to look my lover in the eyes for fear of the rejection I would find there. The empty space between us made me hollow. The act of making love made me shallow.

There is a whole lot of ground to be recovered for me to be intimate once more. But all that it would take is the genuine acceptance of one woman. I only want one. I am not greedy but I am selfish. I do not want to be considered tolerable or accommodated conditionally. I will not be good enough until something better comes along. I do not treat others that way and will not excuse it from a woman that professes her love and devotion to me. Co-dependent? You had better believe it. The greatest love is a complete dependence on giving oneself entirely without reservation and it is completely dependent on reciprocal action. I have wants and needs and desires and passions that are requirements – not suggestions. Anything less and I will be less.

I am absurdly romantic in my heart of hearts. I am merely absurd in my day-to-day attempts to be productive and useful. I have always resented any idea that strips a man of the ability to be complete in and of himself. I have actually been angered when the suggestion that a man is only as good as the woman in his life seemed valid. It has always been a slap in my face and an attack on my dignity. It has not escaped me that we often respond with rage when we are defenseless. I have pushed women away from me on nothing more than vulnerability at the slightest hint there is truth in the fact that a man needs a woman. Well. I do. As ashamed as I am to admit that, I need a woman as I am incapable of making it on my own. It crushes me to write the words. I can be strong for others but I am weak and helpless if it is for my own benefit. I despise being used by women. I despise being manipulated. I resent the dismissive idea that a man is a slave to his sex drive or lesser for it. I loathe any look of disdain or disgust a woman casts toward me. But one word or look or touch of reassurance from a woman and I am invincible. I am nearly alright with this. Allow some room for me to retract that last statement and withdraw, though, should any woman approach me with any love in her voice or eyes. Those damn eyes. How I love to look into her soul through them but shudder at the man they reflect back to me. It is far safer for me to create turbulent storms and raging flashes of lightning in a woman’s eyes than to let those tranquil pools drown me in the depths and undercurrents. I have been pierced too many times and the wounds have never sealed.

So where does this leave me? I am too attracted by women to keep a safe distance. Despite the soul-wrenching, twisting and draining aspects of false women there remains the hope of the life sustaining feast of the true woman. Sometimes I am almost persuaded I simply need release and any woman would do. That moment of desperation is so quickly removed by the knowledge that spilling myself into her may leave me more empty than satiated. And, although I will not use a woman for my pleasure I too often use them all for my amusement. Despicable; a detestable thing. It is all about the healthy place I need to achieve to look any woman in the eyes and to let them see me all the way through. Then I want to find myself free to love and to express it better than I ever have before. I want to be so far beyond a staring contest. There is always the need for a man to rescue a damsel in distress. But, I am in distress and in need of a damsel. What I long for is someone that will hold my gaze as I hold her in my arms and always hold me with the same desire between her legs. Then I will be able to let go of my pain and hold on.

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Thread Bare - I Can't Hold On (A song lyric of mine)

I have been in an increasing turmoil and what occurred to me to be the psychological equivalent of a flood; holding onto any random object not being flushed away by the currents. The result, quite by accident, is this rough draft of a song. The music is quite good and appropriate for the theme. The ideas are all being expressed but I do not know if I consider this the finished form. Nevertheless, it is my work and I claim rights to it. It is entitled "I Can't Hold On."

When life rages cold,
A relentless storm;
And you cling to what holds
As you're wearied and worn -
You know to hold on
And adjust your grip.
But your strength fades too soon
And your grasp starts to slip.
Then you wonder how long
'Til you'll resign and let go.
If it's right or it's wrong?
Only then will you know

And I can't hold on
No, I can't hold on
No, I won't let go
But, I can't hold on

I've stayed in this place
Against all of the odds;
Tried to finish the race
Run on broken glass shards.
I've done all my bleeding
And I've pushed past the pain.
Now, I've lingered past feelings
And nothing remains . . .
Those with no answers
Still struggle for words.
(I've argued far better
For their point than I've heard)

And I can't let go
No, I can't let go
No, I can't hold on
But, I won't let go

I imagined my funeral
And the few that would care;
And, wondered what honor all
Would contrive for me there?
They'll pay their respects -
Do the best that they can;
Through their grief and regrets
To portray me a man.
They will find from their heart
Each a fond memory
and remember from parts
The man I never achieved.

And I can't hold on
No, I can't hold on
No, I won't let go
But, I can't hold on

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Laundry Day - Loose Ends and Frayed Seams

Today was not all that bad. There were several moments of measurable, if not significant, progress and I was productive overall. There were some events that had been anticipated but were not as disappointing or dismal when they did occur. I am in good spirits.

The least satisfying was finding that my business partner and I did not win a very worthwhile bid on a contracted job. As the outcome was decided on whim more than on the original criteria under which we bid, I find I have some expectations that we may actually have been favored by not winning the contract. We might, in fact, have dodged a painful and likely expensive bullet of working against a shifting standard and expectations. The downside is we both so NEEDED that bid to be ours. We are both in a hard-pressed and pretty dire set of circumstances that only money remedies.

We are both scrambling to make our bills for the end of this month/beginning of next. It will be harrowing to say the least. But, this might afford me other opportunities. I certainly remain optimistic but I would rather have the "problems"associated with too much success rather than hardly any at all as is presently the case.

Several irons are now in the fire and two have been in just long enough to be warming to a cheery glow. Both were initiated by others to include me. I am a willing partner rather than instigator (in some online projects) with one friend and composing and playing music with another. The creative juices are making a tenuous attempt at returning and I am still more of a spectator than participator in their struggles to stand under their own power. I am enjoying this but so longing to be earning a living wage. All ideas to this point have flickered but not caught fire, sadly.

So, this was a deliberate effort to not sound like I am waiting only to die and cursing each breath. I am regrouping and gaining strength to REALLY complain another day! still no real companions and only obligations but I press on.

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Thread Bare - Awake and Miserable

It is a little after two in the morning and I find myself awake, anxious and randomly tripping over my thoughts. I have no words or cogitations in order and am really wishing I knew who I have among those I know to talk to at this time of day.

The periods of this cycle of running out of inspiration and hope are becoming closer in frequency and that is not a good prognosis for future success. I have various thoughts that I do not express for the expectation I would be put on a vigil for those with suicidal tendencies. I actually am not at all that way inclined but my thoughts would belie any tendered argument. I am not afraid of death and bored with life. I truly lack inspiration for nearly anything anymore.

Despite the arrogance of the statement, I shall express it, anyway. I have had the best I am going to receive from this world and in this life and I am certain I have no real chance of falling in among a true group of peers. I am not like anyone else I have encountered although the multifaceted aspects of my personality have many people identifying with elements of me and laying claim that, "You are just like me." It would be obvious and even welcome if I truly were like others. I have mentioned in this blog, before, I struggle to conform while others struggle to uniquely set themselves apart. Now, I simply struggle.

Also weighing upon my mind is concern for a very loved friend that lives very far from me. I have not heard from her or anything about her well-being in several months. I can find no word on her and it is troubling. She and I are very different but I feel she knows me best. A fascinating thing for me to admit but also why I miss her so. Because I cannot make contact with her I have grave worries about her and I feel I am failing her.

I have already lost one friend similar to her in importance to me. There was a wonderful woman that I would have died for, but instead, passed away after years in a coma when I could not even find her or be allowed to visit her. I fear. I fear that something similar is happening now. How I hope that I am wrong.

So I carry this burden for my lost friend and I cling to the hope that my ultimate fears are not realized both for her and myself. I have long anticipated a day when it would be realized I am not in my right mind. That, I will simply "snap" and all will instantly realize I will need to be institutionalized. I believe I am well on the path that could trigger just such an event. I am nearly destitute and soon could live out my nightmare of being found homeless and possibly even incarcerated and having then gone all the way to rock bottom. I feel impressed with a certainty that I have yet to fully experience the humiliating shame and public ridicule that seems to be my destiny. Yes. There is vanity in dreading being further mortified and allowing my detractors a festival celebrating my ultimate comeuppance. But, I am seriously haunted and taunted by such thoughts. I am not winning. I am barely holding on and even as I do so with all of my fervor - I am losing ground daily.

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A New Wrinkle - Sometimes, I Am Truly Alone

I have not been writing, and that is obvious, and doesn't require a post. Actually, I have been writing but, afterward, not posting what I have written. Therefore, this is an attempt to not clamp down and edit myself with so much of an iron fist. This will almost be a simple effort with not much thought behind it and maybe surprise myself in whatever gets expressed. So, here we go.

There are many ways to be alone. One may feel alone as if misunderstood, or by not having any one around that shares the same views or ideologies. One may be alone in their thoughts. In that regard, there are many ways to elect to be alone - but that is by choice. The other immediate means to be alone (at least what springs to mind) are to be in new surroundings or a foreign environment and realize the loss of a support network. One may be alone as far as having special people with whom to give and receive affection. One may dwell on their "alone-ness" which is in and of itself a lonely pursuit that may cause a sort of "suffering for one's beliefs" alone. If any of these and more are made into a personal campaign then the very deliberate seeking to isolate oneself may certainly precipitate paranoia to validate an overactive or acute recognition of just how alone one truly is.

I have not reached the last stage but am monitoring myself so that I do not become more comfortable in being disconnected and detached from other people. As it stands all ready, my neighbors express concern that they do not even see me leave my front door for weeks at a time. I have become extremely content to be antisocial. Now, previous decisions included the need to find something within myself and not rely on external motivations for a desire to live and grow. That resulted in a conclusion that I could not date. Further evaluation allowed for no concessions in that need to sequester myself. I still believe I have not established myself to any recognizable and distinguishable degree. To pursue an amorous relationship would distract me or erase whatever attempt at flying solo I have made. As a corollary to that I am not financially established to a sufficient degree to offer stability in that regard, either. I am quite simply a mess. When I measure where I am to where I would like to be I am very singularly placed. And yet another form of being alone is to stand on the conviction that I am doing the right thing.

All of this brings me to a place of once again contending with the fact that for some of us life will never be extraordinarily pleasant. The measure of my convictions and actions really can not be compared to or judged against my contentment and happiness. Some of us have a degree of personal pain, loss and suffering that has nothing to do with anyone's preferences or choices. It is remarkable to have to allow for that. I certainly take blame for my actions and decisions having set the scene for some of what has occurred in my life but there is absolutely no accounting for all of it or even most of it as being due to my sabotaging myself or making foolish choices. I am not imagining some vain explanation for all of this but I do have strong conviction from observation that I am able to lead others away from and around such personal loss, for themselves, far more often than I must stand back and watch them go through the deepest of it. I believe it is why I have the friends that I do. They value my opinion and I honestly don't tell them so much what I think they should do (although those words come out of my mouth) but more what to consider and choose to avoid. But, in that I seem to be alone, too.

Thus, here I sit in the very early morning hours feeling frustrated, defeated and alone. I am back to feeling like I am a one man support network for everyone else and can not get one single thing I need for me. I am very horribly alone. Even to express that I feel I am giving and not getting is a hazard to me. I am now additionally burdened with concern for all of my friends who will read this and take offense. Again, I may need to soothe and comfort the wounded or try to explain to the sincerely and genuinely well-meaning that their greatest intentions can not possibly translate into tangible proof for me because they are there and I am, here . . . Alone.

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In Defense of the Cold-Hearted Bastard, Part 1

I’m on a bit of a theme, once again. The thoughts I let tumble around in my head are something like the way an American football quarterback leads the receiver with the thrown pass. As I have an idea, and as it becomes a little more clear, someone comes into view that catches the gist of it or is living out my observations in their actual life.

As a preface, there are obviously times to execute discretion and hold one’s tongue but, you know what? That option is relied upon far too many times by most people. I must include myself in that, as well. Now, those who know me will find that laughable as I never seem to be very aware or mindful of tempering my reactions. I am not known for withholding my swift wrath in a verbal lashing. Anyone may inadvertently step on the numerous tripwires in my psyche for intolerance toward opposing views or what I find foolish. So, whenever I mention that something hurt my feelings or that I was exercising caution the usual response is, “Oh, you‘re so sarcastic.” A recent but not infrequent example is when I was told how someone endured unbelievably clueless instructions or admonitions from an employer and simply allowed it to happen without addressing the issue. I replied, “You know I would never let something like that go . . .” to which my friend responded, “But, that is why I still have my job.” Now, although that may have the ring of truth it really does not take all factors into account. How fortunate for us all that I am going to belabor my point.

This same friend, as well as another from among the sea of humanity whom I shall use for examples, live their lives in subjection to the whim and will of others. They do this at work, at home and in all social situations. They do this, I would argue, to their own harm while thinking they are protecting themselves and the feelings and well-being of others. This notion, while appealing, is utter nonsense. The primary thing to understand is that a great number of people are manipulative and self-serving. Shocking – I know. Understanding this about people does not automatically imply any personal sentiments of mistrust or harbored bitterness or animosity. It simply means that you allow a person only enough leeway to make their intentions obvious. If their motives are genuine, there is more allowance made and so forth. However, if their intent proves to be some form of gain at another’s expense it is time to clamp down and interpose in order to prevent such abuse. Secondly, most people are not as alert or incisive as we are want to give them credit for being. It is not an exaggeration that ALL people are stupid. Each and everyone are missing vital pieces of information or have allowed perception to replace reality when making decisions and then acting upon those volitional choices. The normal individual’s behavior when first confronted with evidence they are not infallible is to - as in most human responses – take an extreme polarized position ever afterward. A few resort to denial that they have or will ever make a mistake. The majority retreat into themselves and warily hope others with the proper training, experience and authority will step in and address whatever has suddenly taken focus. The insecure human being has an unfathomable depth of thirst to emphasize their inadequacies rather than to reinforce and strengthen their image of self. Most people surrender arguments and even their worth as a person in exchange for having no one call attention to their deficiencies. Conflict stirs the pot too much and causes too much introspection and acknowledgment of people’s short-comings and weaknesses. The desire to avoid conflict is the foundation upon which tyrants build their power.

The greatest wrong fomented by the desire to hold one’s tongue and allow something patently “wrong” to go unchecked is that it validates negative influence. The unintentional approval of a false premise or skewed conclusion by the imposition of another’s will creates a chain of events. Those events encourage the wrong thinking to be practiced with greater confidence. The lack of opposition causes the deficient in self-esteem to accept the premise of the allowed thing as being significant and awarded undue importance. This leads to a wrong idea becoming the cornerstone for entire edifices and institutions forming around a false principle. The person that has allowed themselves to be silenced also consigns themselves to a subordinate role from then on. Without checks and testing of people’s actions, especially those in managerial functions, operations and policies are incorporated that simply never should have been. Unfortunately, a silent voice is a vote of approval and encourages more and more action without measure or proof of concept. Ultimately, the snowball effect escalates into an avalanche. The passive person needs to be certain they are not so out of a poor self-image, fear, or cowardice but because they are in agreement with the choices being made.

Also, the need to resort to seeking an expert or insisting that a highly specialized education or experience is a guarantee of good judgment negates the inherent fly in the ointment. It counts for something but only because if you insist that your only source of wisdom and knowledge is humanity then it is pretty much the only thing you’ve got to cling to for hope. Whenever a person believes their own press reports and resume fluff it is time to distance them from any active choice making exercises, and to remove those that embrace them without blushing, as well. In a disheartening way, it is amusing to consider the smug, know-it-all behavior of a teenager with a wry smile but be intimidated by the same behavior in an esteemed adult figure. Have you ever gotten a satisfactory answer from a doctor, for example, who insincerely listened to your description of what ailed you or your own hypothesis? Likely, you have not; as that mere human being already concluded what course of action they would take when you entered the examination room. There are two types of practicing physicians, essentially. There is the sincere practitioner that has an inquisitive mind and real desire to assess your individual needs. This sort is still aware that they must always be studying, observing and learning. They are the kind of doctor that makes medical research successful. They are rarely found, however, interacting with people. The price of such service to humanity comes at a high cost. The other and more common type of physician is the textbook scholar that has done their time and is paying their dues and their tuition loans and practices medicine from memory, patterns of symptoms in their experience and, too often, whatever promises the drug manufacturer representative claims in his sample packets. That doctor has subscribed to the dogma that it is best to rely on the expertise of others. The downside is a lack of direct understanding and any real applicable action for specific instances. The textbook scholar has believed and subscribed to the knowledge imparted from a handful of authors and lecturers. If a three-dimensional map of their collective comprehension were modeled it would resemble Swiss cheese. Why? It is because they do not have full understanding of their subject, individually or collectively. Subsequently they will each concentrate too much on some things, not at all on others, and perhaps arbitrarily dismiss some information and stubbornly cling to other refuted ideological inconsistencies. Here is a bankable truth borne out by historical record. When it comes to human enterprise and endeavor, success is most often accidental and unintentional. If considered in another vein, success often proves to have been the failure to fail as most efforts involving people are unsupportable in their theory and practice.

What people lack in competence is compensated for with bravado and style. Being attractive or presumed powerful is yet another device to manipulate the intimidated. Once a person believes that they are less than other people in value it is over. They relinquish the fight or the desire to challenge the curious and suspicious ideas others are hell bent to act upon. The imbalance in self-worth also causes the quest for safety in numbers and the seeking out of democratic means to determine and/or assess worth and validity. Such subjective foolishness is no way to establish functional standards of behavior. This is why opinion polls are an outright crime against humanity. Seeking the collective mindlessness of the masses also removes the authority of the individual and forces one into the morass of a legislated morality and socially acceptable behavior that is as predictable and secure as a tornado. The result requires having to accept, with a religious faith, the belief that many wrongs make a right. It is wrong to speak up. It is wrong to disagree. It is wrong to question the thought process behind an edict. It is dangerous to become recognizable as a solitary figure . . . and so on. This order of “reasoning” has distorted what is actual selfish behavior and what is selfless action. The most important aspect overlooked in all of this is that inaction has just as severe a series of consequences as arrogant behavior. There is also need to consider that passive folk are not actually entirely passive. They exert indirect influence by subversive, covert, and other negative means in response to their frustration with themselves. They are also prone to irrational outbursts and lashing out at even more passive people to vent their exasperation for failing to express opposition when it was appropriate.

In the case of my friend and the silent resignation to the criticisms of an uninformed assessment, their choice to not correct the misconceptions and supply supporting detail has resulted in at least the following:
• Established the notion in the superior’s mind that their work performance is sub-standard
• Lost credibility for future interactions
• Allowed for an unfair neglect to consider a proven record of exceeding performance expectations
• Rewarded co-workers for their mediocrity
• Caused personal stress and inner conflict that has lingered while all other parties have entirely forgotten the whole affair
• Reinforced a negative system of behavior both personally and professionally
• Cheated the company out of the valuable insights my friend has to offer that would benefit not only a department but an organization
• Held up inefficiency and vain effort as the new standard
. . . and I am sure there is more but you get the basic house of cards relationship.

Now, not to single out my friend but they allow this same sort of situation in all of the institutional environments in which they are participating. All of those scenarios result in a passive-aggressive mess. My friend is trapped and stressed and a good deal of it is self-inflicted. None of that builds confidence, self-esteem, or independent thought and action. I do not subscribe that there is any deliberate conspiracy behind all of this other than the peer pressure to not be a “trouble maker” by voicing opposition to folly. But, I must insist that the truly vested and interested party in any endeavor is the one that takes the painful steps to act on their beliefs with the full support of cause and reason to evaluate what to accept and what to question. Blind rejection is ignorant and arrogant. Blind acceptance is a paralyzing toxin.

My second exhibit is the hyperbolic reflection of the first. I have a friend that is now involved in the scattered business obligations of aging parents. The burden to rectify the justifications for why certain things were done the way they were is a Rubicon to navigate.

As in so much of human forecasting, the value in the endeavor was long ago absorbed in the undertaking. My friend will not gain in any way other than to try to unknot a tangled and confusing series of decisions so that everything may finally and completely unravel. The profit was lost in the translation and only the consequences and ramifications of finding liability and financial accountability remain. It is assumed by onlookers that my friend stands to inherit a small fortune of properties when the father passes. There is really no fortune, or properties. All of that has already been dispersed and the short-sighted but well-intentioned decisions that have been made have all but nullified any assets. My friend is simply a responsible and loving child doing the best they possibly can to accommodate parental wishes and ease the painful results of bad choices. The fascinating thing for me to observe, when I detach my personal feelings for all of the participants, is how at the same time that my friend recognizes the stupefying consequences of good intentions mucking up the ebb and flow of life, their own actions are being hamstrung by the same sorts of considerations. At the bottom of all of this fiasco is that for a decade, a tenant has unsuccessfully applied for disability insurance and has yet to obtain it. In that period of time, they have managed to live fairly well and even maintain a newer automobile. My friend only discovered, last week, this was able to be achieved by paying no rent. That means that the owner has taken on the burden of all expenses for the property, including maintenance and taxes without receiving any income to do so. My friend was introduced to this situation with the simple admission that so much is now owed that the home is probably going to need to be sold. No one had the heart to go to the renter and ask for the agreed and contracted rent., nor to expel them and select a paying tenant.

The reason why nice guys finish last is because they are left holding the bag full of burdens for obligations and responsibilities shirked by others. The nice people, the good neighbor, and the law-abiding citizen are like sheep to the slaughter. What is required is the recognition that one may still demonstrate compassion, concern and understanding for others but take on the dispassionate, thieving and conniving at the same time. How is this possible? One must be able to assess themselves and others, honestly. They must not be distracted by wit and sparkle. They must not be offended by the hideous diseases that infest the human soul. They must be immune to pain when it is the only means to end suffering. They must be unconcerned for being branded as cold-hearted bastards.

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Look Away, I'm Hideous!

I have admitted something to myself more important than convincing everyone how truly terrible a person I am. By the way, some have absolutely no trouble subscribing to my awfulness while others spend too much time refuting my arguments. My friend, Evan, simply interjects, between my very protracted pauses for breaths, things to the effect of I can’t fool him or that my claims are unsubstantiated. It is important to highlight that he does add the qualifier that I am not as bad as I would like to present myself. So, he has left the door open to attribute some degree of rottenness, through his deliberate phrasing. Meanwhile, another friend has me branded as someone that entered an arena and was embraced and loved and respected so readily that I have gone out of my way to destroy my own popularity and reputation. It is true. I have done so deliberately. She rightly observes I am more comfortable as an undesirable scoundrel or untouchable. I know it is because otherwise I doubt I will be touched as much as I require.

Being discovered to actually be nice and to demonstrate regard for others is so contrary to my desire to be a threatening figure of a man that it really derails my ambition to alienate myself from the human race. I may be brutally blunt and obnoxiously direct but I care. I care to tell the truth. I care to not allow myself or others to hide. I care to listen and be involved. Caring sucks. When one cares, the want to help and to fix things is constantly thwarted either when someone elects to forsake the offered assistance or because no amount of help is sufficient. I hurt for others far more than for myself and I do not spare myself the luxury of wallowing; so, I carry this burden like a thorny crown. Fortunately for us all, the One that actually wore that crown has the power to overcome. I simply am asked to live rather than die. As has been said, “Dying is easy – Living is hard.” - In as far as this world dishes out misery, I have a good life. But, I live to help. I can’t resist the pull of jumping into the fray; even if I exacerbate the fraying as the result of my rough edges. I do not know how to remain neutral. I can not mind my own business or keep my mouth shut. For someone that cares so much I certainly don’t have much sensitivity when it comes to people’s personal space and preferences. I do not respect boundaries and I do not honor limits.

All of that was simply introduction to the utter dichotomy of my nature. I have a general contrariness and intolerance that borders on dictatorial. I am an advocate of executing martial law – MY edicts, of course. Yet, beneath the gruff and growl and the scowl and snarl has been a very tedious desire to embrace, accept, and conform to the prevailing view surrounding me. This has been an arduous and often insufferable vexing of soul and anguish of spirit for me. Simply put: I want to ”behave” and be a non-descript goo that is not in any way discernible from the masses. I have striven for that but it is the most monotonous of vane pursuits. I yearn to be invisible and homogeneous and . . . I must surely fail. The admission I am only making at now nearly forty-seven years of age is that I am not a conformist. I will always be distinguishable no matter where or with whom I am found.

The truth finally has to be faced that I am seeking to do precisely the opposite of most other people. Where others are looking to elevate themselves, I am attempting to disappear. As many wish to be found unique, I am struggling to compress myself into the cast. The similarity and the paradox lies in the fact I am engaged in the normal human wrangling to find comfort in my own skin except in reverse. I am trying to become a part of what most are trying to escape. I have a peculiarly inverted relationship to other human beings. Evan also insists that everyone claims to adore and wishes to emulate the Maverick and the independent thinker until they actually encounter such a one, personally. It is never a meeting of recognition and mutual admiration but of resentment and conflict and a feeling of threat and suspicion toward the unique, the individual, the “different.” Only historical figures are lauded and exalted while contemporary figures are ridiculed and despised. I must admit he is extremely observant. The thing that I have had to face has not been the shunning by others or even open hostility. That which has afflicted me has been self-contempt for being self-aware.

One finds escape from most of the unwanted identification as an individual as long as they may be conveniently packaged and branded. The largest umbrella to attempt to overshadow the fact that some project rather than reflect is found when labeled as an “artist.” As long as any term inviting explanations that can be encompassed by not quite all of the five senses of sight, taste, touch, hearing and smell may be applied (more out of convenience than supportable evidence) the lone figure may be contained, defined and deemphasized. There is a sort of normal desire to mar the clearly distinctive characteristics of others so that they become a blur in a faceless human smudge. A “visionary” is not as distasteful as the notion of a stubborn, insistent and willfully selfish magnate. One “listening to the beat of a different drummer” is far cuddlier and much warmer a character than when considered marching in a never wavering straight line to their objective. A “philosopher” is a much softer figure than the leader that shuns decision based on consensus or conventional “wisdom” who shuns the attempt of others to color his thoughts. In all of these, and especially in recent societal “developments” and “cultural influences,” feeling has supplanted thinking.

Currently, to stand out from the crowd really does not require that one necessarily exhibit any extraordinary abilities. All that is needed is to claim any abilities at all. It is expected that one must accept and make subjective value judgments based on the collective impression of feelings rather than on reason and carefully measured and repeatable standards. There is a strange duplicity of demanding accountability for others while apportioning deniability to one’s self. This is the grounds for intolerance of an individual because their very singular behavior threatens to reveal the whole machine a fraud by not subscribing or needing to find association with others. It is quite educational to demonstrate that ignorance is encouraged due to the subjective, collective pooling of tactile inputs as acceptable; but, the objective outputs of the individual mind are discounted as arrogance for daring to claim understanding. There is an actual preference to shun the notion there can be absolutes. There is nearly a religious fervor to imagine a world in which nothing may be stated with any certainty. This has been the futile struggle in which I have engaged for most of my life. I dare to claim insight and am punished for doing so. I have innocently identified common behavior and have been found guilty of crimes for failing to omit or overlook the folly of my fellow man. Many wish to identify with the child that told the truth about the absence of the Emperor’s new clothes, yet spend the majority of their efforts making whole cloth out of fabrications and falsehoods.

I must acknowledge that my desire to conform has only succeeded in creating a conflict between reason and action and Pavlovian response and reaction. Feeling is not thinking. Transient impressions are not keen observations. When one is mindless there is little to identify consequence for being thoughtless. I am at odds with a culture that seeks to remove any discernible and permanent markers and that refuses to recognize a fixed graduation or scale against which to examine the world outside or inside them. I can not, and in fact, will not waste my energy applying cosmetics to fit into some mask of reality. I am through with finding diversions and distractions in order to hide from others the unattractive things I see. If the need to allow the light to shine on human stupidity makes me an ugly person then I am finally able to articulate without apology, “Look away, I’m hideous.”

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