I want to live the moments people write songs about

I don't know how to write this, but I want to do it well.  Because the idea came to me from some awfully beautiful writing and some terribly truthful words (namely here) and I don't want to waste that.  Some things just make me really feel, and that's somewhat rare, but reading the writing of this person I'd never met before, I really felt in that special way.  It's inspiring, because the life and thoughts of someone else can so poignantly give definition to my own life, to bring in that sense of "you're not alone" that I need to hear every once in a while.

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I wrote that...oh god, probably a week ago now.  I've been busy (then again, when am I not).  And today felt like a waste of a day.  It felt like practically everything that could go wrong did.  So here I am, with half an hour to midnight, and even though my brain and body are tired, I have no desire to sleep.  Because somewhere along the way, I realized that when I get angry enough, I can use that anger to propel myself.  Maybe that's how I got this far in the first place, by taking in the thoughts and criticisms of everyone who ever thought "you can't do that" or "I'm better than you" or "there's no way you'll ever amount to anything" and getting really, really pissed off about it...pissed off enough to do it.

So yes, I am pissed.  I am very, very unhappy right now.  I am angry.  And for a little bit, I'm going to let myself sit here and fume.  I'm going to rant and rave at the people around me, and I'm going to swear so much I'll wonder if I remember how to say anything else.  But then, when that's all said and done, I'm going to go back to my work, and I'm going to finish it.  I'm going to clean it up and make it damn good.  Because I'm better than this shit.  I'm better than the people who have so thoroughly angered me and negatively affected my day.  I know that I am better than letting their actions and judgments and opinions cloud my vision, because I know my skills and strengths.  And I know that this has not played in my favor.  But I also know that while I could undoubtedly do better, it's not worth my energy.  I've invested as much of myself as I'm willing, so I'm going to move on.  To bigger and better things.  Things I love.

You can see this guy's writing is rubbing off on me.  I've been trying to read a bit of his blog every few days at least, just systematically working back.  It makes me feel inspired.  A couple of other things lately have contributed to that, and they've all come together into a very motivated, surprisingly positive attitude.  I'm going to meet with someone this summer, an individual who has indicated that she is in fact worthy of my respect (which doesn't happen often on a first meeting like this).  And she's going to tear me apart.  Because that's her job...well, somewhat, anyway.  Constructively, of course, all in an attempt to help me understand who I am and what I want and how to get there better.

And when I do go see her in a few months, I want to be able to flat out tell her: I don't want to cure cancer.  I will never save starving children or head a committee on green energy.  I am not here to try to please you, or anyone else.  I just want to do what I love.  And maybe I don't fully understand what that is.  Maybe it'll take me a few years to figure it out, but I'm tired of feeling like I'm doing things wrong because I'm not conforming to societal norms.  I don't know if I'll put it that way.  Or if most of these sentiments will come out at all.  This meeting is something I've thought a lot about since first discussing the possibility of it just yesterday.  I'm trying to figure out how to best represent myself, or at least where to start.

I'm not really a writer (this is relevant, I promise), but it's an important part of me.  Writing got me through some of the worst times of my life to date.  It helps me organize my thoughts and it puts me on track.  It makes me calm and centered in a way that meditation seems to work for other people.  So I guess that's something I should mention.  That and how much I love (I cannot emphasize that word enough) the work I do.  And I guess I can say I like reading, and people, figuring them out, learning about them, but I'm not sure how these all come together to form a coherent picture.  But I think that's precisely where she can help the most.  As long as I have the guts to stop trying to impress her (and myself), I think I can really get somewhere.  I'd really like to.

And even as I'm putting these words down, I'm thinking some things.  First, "I want to be proud of this post.  I want to be proud of how I felt and how I wrote it.  I want to know that it sounds good and expresses everything I feel as clearly as possible."  Second, "I should just print this writing out.  Print it out and take it to her and say 'read this' because writing is as honest as I get, I've never been more honest in person than I am in text, and this is as true as I can imagine anything to be.  So if she wants to know the truth about me, this is what she should read."  I don't know that it'll happen, but if I remember writing this when I do go meet with her, I'll certainly keep it in mind.

I've finally calmed down.  I'm tired and still somewhat unhappy, but that's okay.  So I'll take my time now, to finish this work and then I'll go to bed.  Maybe tomorrow will be better.  And maybe it won't.  But how the day goes really doesn't matter.  And I have no intentions of letting it be wasted because of people and things I have no control over.  So this here is written proof of my commitment to not let this shit ruin me.  So there.

Remnants of a Past Life

I don't listen to music outside anymore.  It used to be that as soon as I took a step out the door, the second thing I'd do would be putting the earbuds in and drowning in music.  Sometimes loud, sometimes not, but almost always there was this constant background.  I still do it occasionally, but not really around here.  Not where I live now.  It just hasn't really been a thing.

Maybe I'm trying to protect the sanctity of this new place.  Maybe I hope that by keeping this music, which so thoroughly defined me in an entirely different context, away from my current life, I can leave that part of myself behind.  Maybe if I try hard enough, just by ignoring it, I can grow past the pieces of myself that were stupid and young and made all of the bad decisions (and now have all of the stories to tell).

It's awfully ironic, then, that I know that some of these songs define me in such fundamental ways, in ways which are key to establishing me as the person I am today, and I don't want to lose them.  So maybe it's that I'm afraid of things losing their meaning.  The same way that someone's smell fades from their shirt every time you wear it to bed, but you want to save it, so you wear it only rarely, until you're so afraid of it fading that you don't wear it at all.

I've had songs lose power.  Not meaning, not elegance, but I've felt the sheer emotion behind them slip away from me.  And I don't want to forgive myself for having listened to that song so much that I wore it out, because at the time, it meant everything to me, and now it doesn't mean as much.  Not really.  It still contains the idea of meaning, but I no longer feel it, I no longer tremble when I hear it.  I don't want to laugh or cry when it comes on.  It's starting to fade into the background of everything else I listen to.  Most of which I still absolutely adore, probably more than I'll ever really let on.  But it's fading in comparison, and that's the part that bothers me.

I'm generally one of those people who associate memories with songs, smells, clothes, places.  I gave away some favorite possessions a few years ago after a breakup because they reminded me too much of a person I was desperately trying to free myself from.  And lately, music has become in many ways the last thing I'm holding on to from a past that made me who I am, that while I'm not proud of, is nonetheless something I hold very dear.  So I don't want to lose it.  I'm trying to save it.  I'm just afraid that this way, I might let it slip away and not even notice it going.

We'll come clean and start over the rest of our lives

Do you believe in purpose?  Do you have a purpose?  I've been trying to answer that question for the past few days with particular intensity.  Someone has taken it upon themselves to chalk bible verses all over the sidewalks around where I live.  Which made me wonder about religion and purpose and things of that sort.  On top of that, there is a man outside of a building I walk through fairly regularly who routinely preaches.  Something he said once stuck with me for some reason.  He talked about the worthiness of his cause because of all of the people who had given their lives for it, going so far as to ask if anyone had died for the cause of evolution.

Which made me think immediately "evolution isn't a cause."  It is, formally, a theory.  Informally, it is an explanation of how humans came about.  But in no way is the theory of evolution a cause.  Did it have to be?  What changed if it was?  I (finally) started reading The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins about a month ago.  I didn't get very far because I had to go back to work shortly thereafter, but I read far enough to get the gist--we are survival machines, nothing more.  We have been "programmed" so to speak by genes to ensure their longevity, their existence through time.

Is that a purpose?  Is my purpose in this world to pass these genes on to offspring and increase their chances of survival?  It's rather ironic, in my mind at least, that something as existential as the idea of purpose could be defined by something so primal as survival.  So I'm not sure this justifies it as a purpose at all.  And it certainly doesn't make it any more of a cause.  It's human nature to look for a reason, a point.  It's gotten civilization so far...but I feel like we might be hitting the boundary where it is no longer reasonable to ask the question "why?"

I know many religious individuals who are driven and passionate and use their faith to motivate and propel them forward.  I also know atheists who are no less driven or passionate, who find a source for this motivation within themselves.  Is a purpose, a cause, essential for success?  I don't think so.  But even those who don't have religious motivation often want to make the world a better place or help humanity.  People with that sort of motivation make me question my own abilities.

I've never had a purpose.  Any aspirations toward success were entirely selfish.  It was a desire to see myself succeed.  Never once did I say "I want to go into this field because I want to help humanity/save the world/make things better."  I went into this field because I really fucking love it.  Enough to use profanity in an otherwise clean post.  This work fascinates me.  I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing, even through the tedious days and the sleepless nights.  This work makes me happy.  And yet, looking at people around me with their visions and causes, I can't help but think I'm doing something wrong.  After all, aren't I supposed to be trying to improve the human condition?

I had that drilled into my head for a few years.  And I wonder why some truly brilliant individuals put so much effort into ingraining that thought if it's not legitimately important.  But I never wanted to change the world.  I just want to live my life in a way that makes me happy.  Is it wrong then, that I don't give money to the poor or build orphanages in third world countries or educate the next generation of so-called world leaders and brilliant minds?

They tell you that you can do whatever you want with your life, but if you're not concerned about everyone around you and you don't live for the purpose of making the world a better place, it feels like you're doing something wrong.  Please, leave your thoughts if you have them.  Talk to me about this.  Because I really, honestly want to know how others feel about purpose (or lack thereof).

Suicide is Painless

I never would have thought that this place would be worse for me than for others.  Well, I did.  I figured it would be terrible.  I figured we'd break up and I'd become a loner and get depressed and mess up every aspect of my life.  Which hasn't happened.  So I guess that's probably good.  But oddly enough, it's been worse for me than that.  At least that wouldn't make me a terrible person, it would just make me a misguided, antisocial, improperly raised, maladjusted individual.

But really, it's been worse for me than even them.  And I often go on about how bad it has been for them.  About their depressions, their problems, their habits, their thoughts.  And I sit here and think about how my life has turned around, how I'm not (as) depressed, how I have no bad habits left, not like that, how I've changed.  And it works rather well until I realize that I'm no better than that one person.

It's made me arrogant.  And caustic.  That's not me, that's just the way I've become here.  And certainly it's my own fault.  This place has made me believe that I'm better than everyone around me.  It's made me think that I am wonderful and excellent and everyone should realize that.  It's a worse form of adolescent egocentrism.  It's a grown up delusion, and this place has bred it into me.  I've let it.  I've used it to grow and thrive.  Because really, I've done well, I've "grown" as a person, if you want to put it that way.  I've also become absolutely intolerable.

And the more you try to tell me otherwise, the more intolerable I become.  You can hear it in my tone.  Stability makes me arrogant.  I pronounce words differently.  I speak out more.  I stop being afraid of interfering or being offensive.  And maybe at first that's a good thing for me, but I always wind up overstepping that line, which seems so imaginary and uncertain, but is really quite solidly there (although I can never place it with particular accuracy).

It gets to the point where I hate hearing myself talk, and that should tell you something, because I've always thought I had something worthwhile to say.  I wasn't like this when you met me.  I wasn't this harsh and cruel and bitter about the world.  I have to say, I was much better off turning that anger inward, toward me, than I ever will be trying to use it to propel myself forward.