Broken Glass

I was on the floor, I think I was in and out of sleep while you talked on the phone. One person after the next, making plans for the month you would be home, almost all of your friends were women, which has never been the case.  I sleepily came to, as it seemed you were preparing to leave. I asked a few questions, like "Who are you seeing?"  "When do you leave again?"  "Will we have some time?"  and you answered them quickly, a name I didn't know, a month, of course.
You were putting on your jacket. I knew it was cold out.
We gave eachother a hug as you said goodbye and walked out the door.
I looked at the floor
odd colored broken glass fragments, I wanted to warn you to be careful. I followed you out into the drive way which looked like my Dad's in Minnetonka though it was not his house. It was snowing, dark, the streets were covered and other than the glass in my hand biting into my flesh it was calm and peaceful, cold, biting. You had already driven off with the girl I didn't know.  I decided to text you to be careful, both of the glass and the conditions of the road.
I sent a text, I have no idea what it said, but as I approached the door someone else had gotten home.
They locked it in front of me. I had the key but I was annoyed that they didn't realize I was outside.
The roommate understood but his guest didn't know me, so it seemed like I was barging in and mean.
I was explaining to them about the broken glass when you sent a text back.
It wasn't meant for me,
it was inappropriate, blurry, you were wearing blue underwear, I didn't recognize the guy, but obviously not meant for me.
Then I wondered about the camera angle and realized you hadn't taken the picture.
I was angry, concerned,
I woke up.

yes and no

I am feeling quite selfish right now. Its not coming out in the younger version of me way of things, its more like a desire to sit still and do nothing. A younger me would say fuck you.  This version of me, just wants you to be the way you are, and let me be the same.

Its a really bad time for selfishness, there are two hateful amendments coming up, and an election that could swing the country back the wrong direction, I've got family and friends who I am not supporting and who could probably use some contact.

I've got shit to do, some work related things I have dropped the ball on, some goals I will not reach without effort.

but I just want to sit in  a warm spot and listen to music or be entertained by something. Be passive, be soothed. 

There isn't anything wrong with me.  I am not sick, not really sad or depressed, not necessarily pessimistic.  Just want to be a lizard in the sun.  

The shoulds

I should be volunteering right now.
I should be writing blog posts about voting No, and updating facebook, and I will wish I had if we lose in this election.
I should be watching the movies I need to watch for school.
I should be looking into what classes I will take tomorrow.
I should be writing Illy back, because she was nice enough to write me. 
I should not be thinking about the 2-3 things I have wanted to write about lately.
I should be updating that people text, I said I was going to rewrite.
I should be reading a book, and hanging out with a friend, and thinking about the future in a more positive way. 
I should be making the time to support people in need. 
I should be working on some media projects, and I should be texting some folks back about next week.
I shouldn't be thinking about Diplomacy or how I want to escape into fantasy books.
I should be thinking about how to adapt curriculum to meet my students needs.
I should be writing about my Grandma's passing.
I shouldn't be so afraid.
I should be seeking out new relationships. I should hang out with Aleks, Emily and Julene some time, since today was fun.
I should be volunteering right now. I should volunteer on Sat, Sun and Monday.
I should prepare a costume for next Thursday and Sat. 
I shouldn't be thinking about sex, about being bad at it, after all I am not actually practicing.
I should be preparing a trip to South America.
I should be planning on how to make it meaningful.
I should stop. 

I think this is my normal reaction to grief.
Maybe, either that or I am getting sick, or super stressed and just don't know it. Maybe I am being poisoned...

anyway, I have been wanting to do more writing, but I can barely think lately.
so... soonish?

there are some folks I want to talk to and get back to... but that will have to wait.

farewell

Grandma died yesterday around 3:30 AM. I had been in the room about 4.5 hours previous, and she looked like a breathing corpse.  My mom was there, perhaps my little brother too.
I didn't cry till yesterday afternoon when we moved her stuff out of the room at the nursing home. Something so final about it all.
On the way home the idea that she no longer had "stuff" moved me to tears.
This is a woman, who I had defined in my head as being paired with "stuff"
I will probably write about that more at some point...
but today I feel brain dead and cold.
Is there something wrong lex?

There are may hard things going on. I don't know how to be there for everyone right now.
I think I am going to go take a nap.

on death and grieving

Been reading a lot of Kahlil Gibran

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

My Grandma is dying, has been for 92 years I suppose, but mostly these last few days, weeks, months and years.  Most nights this week I heard her breathing and thought how easily each breath could be the last. 

But my heart cries more easily for a friend.  A friend I write to regularly and never send anything... because each word casually morphs into a stab conceived from deep within my hurting.
I was looking at pictures tonight. I have no pictures of my grandma, but the photo albums on my shelves and pictures on my wall have my friend on each page. A hundred looks, smiles, laughter, insights, nights when life felt great because in our suffering we weren't alone, and nights when life felt greater because in our joy... 
I shared my humanity with this friend, like no other friend, yet now each of us feels betrayed. 
 and I can't find in my heart the strength to start over, to forgive, or even to be vulnerable and it hurts me more, because I know I am trying to stay strong so I don't just fall over and fail...so I don't get eaten alive, don't submit to manipulation and abuse, stay aware and responsible,    but to be strong is to be open, 
and I am failing all the same. 

and it brings up all my other failures, the pictures in the book. The lost friends, or the ones I am too hard to let in. Each picture a joy in my heart, and a stab also. and another stab because tomorrow I will remember the pain and not the joy as I struggle through how to make life just a little more sane.
 I once thought I could be everything to everyone, and now wonder if I can be anything at all, or if my purpose will be to casually whittle myself away, like the flesh on my Grandma's arms, like her sunken cheeks, like her hollow eyes, and vacant breaths.

My mother brought up her brilliance tonight, an insight from my friend, that allowed her to connect with my grandma these past few months even through the dementia.  An insight from a friend of mine she barely knew, and here she is on my grandma's death bed telling the nurse, of a gift, from my friend who I can't even talk to, because every time I want to make peace I end up tasting bile and grinding my teeth.

and each time I look at my grandma's open mouth, dry lips, dark and fragile hands, her boney arms leading back to such tiny breakable frame, I wonder who would hold my hand as I slip away, battered and bruised, broken and tormented, would anyone cry or would they like I, whisper wishes of quick goodbyes under their breath when no one is looking...  and if it were my friend, would I ever forgive myself for this time wasted? 

and the answer is of course no, but through tears I still cant taste forgiveness.

from peoples' mouths I have heard deeply meant affirmations of my character, but most days I can't tell if my optimism is based on an expanding worldview, or a diminished one. 

My grandma has become blind, but this week she saw paintings, sculptures and visions. She described them and I couldn't comprehend their beauty. 
She didn't know me this week, but she never really knew me.  
As I approached she asked me if she had offended me, and I wondered if she meant it.
If in my fear I had given her cause to believe that she had hurt me.
and I assured her no, but I wonder if I meant it.

Sometimes I go over the records of my relationships, to find some valid substantial reason for the great surging depths of my feelings, and sometimes I find it, and it leaves me even more humbled, feeling more blessed, and sometimes more lost than ever.

a writin

I've been at Blue Moon for about 7 hours. I spent about 5 hours trying to write a comprehensive understanding of my history and perception around race, ethnicity and racism. 

After 5 hours I realized this would be a much longer process and it should be broken down in parts.  I have a good start though.  Like with many things, right now I feel a strong flourishing of understanding and growth. It feels good to explore with the students, with friends and acquaintances. Last year felt pretty stressful and blah... maybe this year will turn that way again...but right now I feel in the zone. 

We are starting the second round of donations this weekend... 
Like tomorrow and Monday.

I had a list of like 12 things I wanted to do, and I m readily checking them off the list.  
I updated some websites, did some reading, went to the bank, did a training at work, did some writing and have seen a few folks.  I told my dad about the possible baby thing, which had been weighing on me.

Jess had a baby, thus she had to cancel seeing a movie with me. Lacey also had to cancel. My Grandma is moving next weekend. 

 I sure do write and erase a lot of shit.

okcupid jerk

So, I am on okcupid again, because Jared told me I should be. 
I made a genuine effort for a few days, but lately I have switched back into old habits.
As I have stated before, okcupid makes me feel super shallow...  both when I think about the people I am searching through, and also when I think about myself. Like I message people, they don't respond, I feel bad about myself. People message me, I dont respond or I do, but not necessarily with interest, I feel bad. 

So this woman messaged me, basically just saying "hi" and the site told me she had visited me before. I think the personality questions have pegged us at being fairly similar. She made the move, and then when I went on today she actually initiated the chat function. 
So the thing about this woman is that she is a little person. I am not necessarily attracted to her physically but then there is also the fact that she is a little person. And she says Hi, and I say hi back, she flatters me, after all no one else has actually ever tried to chat with me, and beyond that she is really open and perhaps a little "forward" though I take it as a compliment. I am impressed with her courage, I am impressed with her humor and I am interested in many of the same things she is. Eventually she asks about whether we can skype, she says it was nice that I even responded and I this whole time I am thinking, I am interested in this woman's life, her experiences, but she wants to be my girlfriend and I am not interested in her in that way. Eventually I start to feel really conflicted like I am leading her on. And the whole thing seems conceited because in so many ways I think this woman has more of a handle on her life and what she wants and knows how to get it, then I can even imagine. I am almost intimidated by her level of confidence, but then this is still my ableism showing right? (like deep inside me, there is something saying she shouldn't be... right?)  so... eventually she asks if she has scared me away, and I tell her I think am one of those guys that frustrates her because she has (in her words) "all the good qualities that would make a great girl friend" but I am imagining the hangups caused by my shallowness.  She tells me its my loss, and everything in me thinks, how true that statement is.


Part of me wants to defend myself with other comparisons, the friends I have rejected, the parts of myself I have rejected. Its not like I am only shying away from this one person, I am shutting myself off from all sorts of possibilities... someone recently referred to it as learning to know what you actually are interested in (perhaps), neurologically they call it neural pruning, like you are cutting away the unnecessary or unused portions of your brain, but thats my loss isn't it?  I'm losing either way...

I can spend my time recognizing that I don't want to spend my time on ventures that don't lead to my happiness, and yet, so much of my happiness has been brought about by the unexpected.  
This issue really does take up all my time.  I know what I enjoy, I enjoyed talking to this woman, thinking about her, wondering about her perspective, but I felt like I was leading her on either way.

okcupid jerk,  more like a no win situation. I hope she continues to be confident and outgoing in the way I typically only fantasize about.  I hope she finds the guy she can be good to, and who can be good to her.

and maybe I can find that too, but who knows.

What drives you?

I'm a magician, yes, I create imagery and fantasy, there's no denying, but what to do with a snap shot in time,  a smirk or gesture captured, some set intentionally on display like a theater backdrop projecting simultaneously the wonder of all images and yet not too disturbing a sensation, a muted beauty. This is my selection a thousand 2 dimensional mannequins to project upon, with faces similar to all human faces, I categorize based on the memories of the loved, the memories of swapping testaments to personalities, sometimes while in motion,  tears, the memories of smiles and laughter, gossip and existential theories, sometimes bandaging wounds and sometimes ripping them open, I graft them to these wannabe models these blank canvas, these aliens. I graft them so precisely that its hard to see the lines where once there was unknown, blended concealer, here is an afterthought, here is a conquistador's adventure,  here is a quick dismissal, here is a game-ender, here is a clown's ambition, here is a wounded warrior and somewhere here is a true beauty.


I have found myself having trouble in my admiration. When I am with certain people, I find cute moments attractive, I find innocent moments attractive, I find intelligent moments attractive, I find funny moments attractive, I find sad moments attractive and sometimes even dramatic moments attractive. In the moment I can recognize the root sensation, something like "wow that is fascinating" but my head reads that statement with whatever visual and non visual cues as attraction, as beauty almost like physical beauty regardless of the visual at the time... its sort of fascinating, but I worry it sends the wrong signal. If my response to every stimuli is "beautiful" or "pretty" or whatever, am I reducing that person to a magazine ad? a work of art? a flower arrangement? when what I mean somewhere underneath is how majestic, how cosmic, how overpowering... and if I compare the variables in flux, the shifting landscapes, starscapes, the biomes within and without, the fated and well-met, the Celestine spirit the tao between the miraculous to this, me sitting with you, enjoying, does it prop you up a pedestal higher, based solely on my desire and create an imbalance where there shouldn't be.


A few weeks ago when I was reading that book about Men and Masculinity, the author wrote about how some men, or perhaps all men, can sometimes feel attraction and desire as a painful experience. Like a physically or perhaps psychically- somatized painful experience.  I wonder if other people feel that.  Sometimes I do, sometimes its like a drug that I have a hard time removing myself from, like just one more please, sometimes like a thirst that I can't quench.Sometimes it aches in  my heart, my joints hurt, can't breathe, sometimes my stomach caves in.
Becky asked me if the relationship we had was unfair in essence because she went on with her life while I was expected to be ready for her return (whenever she wasn't in a relationship). Aren't all my relationships like that? Isn't it somewhat natural for a mixed gender (heterosexual) friendship to have elements of it?  Anyway, I wonder if my desire to be in the presence of some people is entirely based on my addiction to my attraction for them. Like it doesn't matter how brutal the relationship is, I need my fix. Especially when all these other things boil down in my brain as attraction, a joke attraction, a thoughtful comment attraction, an uncommon gesture attraction.
I think this is one of the things that I worry about, at my root. I think I worry I will hurt people, do the wrong thing, be a monster because of this weird reduction of a vast quantity of sensory experiences to just one, and one that drives me, allows me to be reckless abusive and violent, panicked and sick, submissive and abused, manipulated and strung along, like an innocent, like an animal, like a monster, like an angel.
The Iliad is the story of nations going to war over attraction and the natural (read masculine) pride that accompanies it. They were adults right?
But this is more like a teenager, the star crossed teen angst, the suicidal and chaotic.
I've spent my time in repentance, almost all of it, a monk or the voyeur, in fear of the conquistador.

Because

I once had a nightmare about the things inside me meshing with the things inside someone else.

No, that isn’t right, the things inside me twisting in their yearning like snakes, they exited from the unclenched and vulnerable areas of my skin, and tangled their way into the comfort of another. 

And when I am near you, sometimes the yearning is the same, it’s palpable, I can see it, especially within a close distance. It’s like our magnetic shields incorporate each other, and I am pulled near,

I would say its almost violent, the way it grabs me. Latches on and won’t let go, like your every move becomes my essence, even if we aren’t enmeshed, your jokes, your thoughts, your glimmering eyes and smile. I stop being able to see anything but beautiful, even in the awful.

Its awful, I can’t seem to hold things against you, I forget so easily the wounds and repercussions, because though I am drawn in,

Sometimes, I think you, are repelled. 

and is this the natural way, I wonder to myself while looking at photos. Those of the loves I know, and those of the loves I wonder if I will one day meet.

 

Wavering

So I am not a biological father yet. That was some news today. I can't say I have strong emotions one way or the other, I was sort of expecting this, at least the first time. 

My afternoon plans were cancelled so I am waiting for my evening plans to come around. 

Did some reading on development of racial identity and I find it sort of fascinating but want to talk to someone about it. Want to continue to explore these topics with people, but it feels so risky to do in our society. I am always amazed by people who walk through the societal norms without thinking about it, but in many ways I think that requires someone who is not afraid to make a fool of themselves... and though I do, frequently, I fear it as well.  The book I am having my students read in our advisory class talks about divisions of race and ethnicity within high school. It will be interesting to see what comes up in discussions... who will talk? 

But I was also thinking about how glad I am to have been reading more diverse histories of the americas... it allows me to sprinkle in positive images of different groups of people who are normally excluded or dismissed within text books.

Always a challenge to recognize and reflect on the taboo. 

SoT is sort of starting up again in the next few weeks... It will be interesting to see if we can put something more sustainable together. Recognize the actual capacity and actual needs of the community. 


I am really not sure what kind of energy I have right now. I feel simultaneously intrigued by new faces and desirous of people, and also totally shy and disinterested. Its bizarre.
Before she left Becky implied that I had changes a lot from who she knew in college. I think that is partially true... in some ways met my capacity, in some ways exposed to a larger more spread out crowd, in some ways more invested in specific aspects of my life like work, but also more and less confident. More confident in handling things, less confident in exploring new people.

Good day sunshine

Two cups of coffee was probably too much, hard to sit still.
I am headed to a movie soon with my brothers.
I spent a few hours with Steve listening to him tell about his bike trip from NY to DC. Inspiring. Spirited. Energizing.

I spent a few hours with Becky the other night and it felt like it should feel. She is leaving for England (probably right now), but I was glad to reconnect.

I spent a few hours with Lacey this weekend too, and it was nice to feel like our friendship hasn't disintegrated, which was kind of how I felt for the last few weeks... I just felt kind of like everyone had abandoned me or was too busy, or was in pursuit of their own possibilities. This feeling was both awful and sort of liberating and that has been an odd and uneasy tension in my life lately. All these transitions push me to pursue my own goals beyond the needs and whims of my friends, simultaneously I find it really hard to pursue my goals without a good understanding of who I am (with no one to reflect it back to me). So the reconnection with these friends this weekend was reassuring, at the same time, I was able to say to them YES I am pursuing  new interests, new projects, new pursuits... and they were able to be happy for me.

This tension though is troubling in that I think it is in the way of healing one of the major issues in my life. I think I am afraid I will get stale again if I pursue the relationships that have been my pillars.  So how do I find comfort, and comfort, but without losing touch of the new reality?

__________________________________________________________________

I rearranged my room, hung up some art, cleaned my closet, dusted. I have been working out (in a small way). I bought groceries and started eating slightly healthier. I went back to work and found a little purpose.  I started planning a trip to South America.  I read some books. I met some people. I got back on okcupid. I danced a little. 

I have to go see my brothers.

Christ lives here

Christ the girl (our new roommate).

Having one of those nights where I want to be angry and calm simultaneously. I feel misrepresented and I don't know who is to blame.

That is not what I wanted to write about though.  Now I can't remember what it was I wanted to write about.

I wish there were an easier way to say to a person that you were feeling they were being clingy. Not only is it an anxiety producing comment, but it possibly even worsens the situation they are already in.

messages?

I went to bed last night, unable to sleep I tossed like a salad for several hours. I was spent, but my mind wanted to think about things like putting away folders (which is what I had done that day), wanted to check off lists you know... But as part of this, I started thinking of all the changes I wanted to make in my life. Maybe I wanted to start planning my south america trip. Where would I start? Where would I end? How would I know when its enough?
Is early next summer to early? By the time I was asleep, I am sure I had convinced myself I could not leave too early. I would cancel all my plans, my responsibilities: School could wait or would be dead soon enough, SoT is a waste of time, I have no friends I told myself.
My mind picked up on that SoT thing, because though I was planning on stepping off the leadership council and maybe not showing up as much as the thing quietly fell apart without me (egocentric to the max before bed!)  I had a dream. 

I was standing somewhere, like maybe the Fair, only I know I was also late to my first class, so maybe it was the fair at some university where I was skipping class to chat up old ladies.. anyway, two old ladies were talking to each other about SoT, and I (though I was planning on quitting), seemed like the perfect person to bud into their conversation, so of course I did, "You know I am a leader of SoT, and I would be perfectly happy to answer any questions."  they did have questions... "what are you doing on healthcare?"
"nothing yet, but I am sure with enough energy we could be" and suddenly there were not two, but twenty, and they were energized. They wanted universal healthcare, they wanted their retirements secure, they wanted their kids to not worry, and their kids were there too, wanting to not worry. At 20 they were a small energized crowd, at 50 they were a bulldozer force. They had momentum, they had the moment, SoT was a thing with an impact.
and I was late for class.

___________________________________________________________________________


I was early, I am always early, I showed up and was seated, I questioned myself on whether I needed separate seating, after all I was meeting them right? No, not really, there was nothing confirmed, had I made up the whole thing? Was I just crashing their get together, who the fuck was Huck? Why as he special... I mean I knew Huck, I like Huck, Huck is a fine person, but why were you meeting with him and not me. Fuck it, I will join you. What a weird restaurant, a dark rich environment like a romantic eatery seen only in rich people dramas. Only the menu had no lobster or fois gras, but icecream, yogurt, sorbet.  Rich icecream yogurt and sorbet mind you. Each scoop was like 15 buck and they only served them in 2 scoops, no more, no less. What an exquisite menu I thought to myself, but I was too nervous, sweating, what the fuck am I doing here? I turned around to see the two of you entering. Huck was tall, in a dark suit. He matched the place perfectly, suave and silly. He didn't see me. You entered your hair was just beyond shoulder length, teased out but in a beautiful swoop, you looked like model, perfectly catching the orange light in the darkness of the restaurant. Your were wearing a dress, strapless, form fitting, melted into the rich drama. you had a small purse, in manicured hands. You didn't see me.
The host seated the two of you, on the opposite side of the swank creamery. I followed down the long narrow row between tables, on this side there were deep dark wooden booths made for more people and they were filled with socialites all in black, laughing, smiling, beautiful. Laurel was amongst one group and she spotted me, smiled at me, returned to here laughing friends (all Filipino).  I got caught behind a group that was exiting, and lost track of you. I tried to sweep over to the other aisle but couldn't quite make it through, impatient I stood, sweating, the flood came back. What was I doing, how will she react? What if I am interrupting? Should I just leave a message and walk by. Should I wait for them to recognize me and invite me over. What if she denied wanting to see me? She had said it would be nice right?  I looked to Laurel for confirmation, she wasn't there.  I was hoping she could run interference with Huck, if I needed. She was gone.
I decided to approach, I saw the two of you, done up and fancy. You were just about to look at the menus, you didn't see me. Within 20 feet I chickened out. Turned around and thought better of myself, but I couldn't give up this opportunity, I was a mad man in a yogurt shop. I kept pacing up and down the aisle, but this whole calamity was in my head and no one was the wiser.
Eventually I returned to my seat, I was trying to text you. Something about, "try the _____ its good I hear" which I hadn't heard, nor tried, but I wanted to somehow say "I know you are here, please let me know if I can join you" but I was sweating and the sweat was stinging my eyes, and I wondered if I was too poorly dressed in this place. I was choking from the heat, I felt a mess, my glasses were foggy and I couldn't read the text. I didn't understand why I had these new thick rimmed glasses.  I was worried. I was missing the moment.

The build up is what gets you.

I don't know if this will be a complete entry, more like a smattering of ideas. I am not a context writer, I give you the middle, maybe a little on the side.

Someone woke me up this morning with a text, I wrote something back about no one being able to give me what I really wanted right now, in my sleepiness I knew that that was true, but hadn't defined what that was really. It took me a few minutes longer...

If someone were able to snap their fingers, it'd be two fold, it wouldn't just be for the hurt to stop. It wouldn't be just that my friends feel cared for, or my mom suddenly didn't have this enormous burden on her, or that school wasn't so damn frustrating, it'd be more than that. I want the high times, the times when I felt special in each of these characters' lives. I miss being at the center of their universe, and I miss them being part of mine. I miss the ease, the comforting, the dynamic expansion of the heart in the way that it hurts because you are bursting with joy, not torn apart and healing. I miss being loved and needed, being sought out, being longed for.

I was right, no one can give me that. They can't get it back for me.  and I know I have thus far rejected new offers. I know that these ladies are in essence offering that with the potential to be a father, I am disastrously scared of that. I am feeling unethical about it. I am worried I will add the element of destruction to that.

But anyway it won't really be that, this is like the ending of high school, or college, people walk away and find new lives. There are two things that heal, time and replacement. I know they aren't truly replaced, but when my thoughts are of others, they won't be as tied up in them. 

 

1,000,000 things to worry about and yet not.

I am reading this book called Proving Manhood, so far I really like it and I am on chapter 5.
It is an analytical look at masculinity from a feminist perspective, that actually looks at men as human beings. Which is sadly something that is often overlooked, instead, we look at masculinity and see the masculine norm and treat men as if they are or are not it. We complain and argue and attack and dismiss based on how well we are or are not performing masculinity and often forget that underneath, regardless of the performance there is some reason (education) and some cause (incentive) behind it. I don't just mean a desire for power and dominance, but rather a reason for that desire, a psychological need, a socialized need, perhaps even a biological drive. But he isn't trying to dismiss the harmful affect, nor dismiss responsibility just to understand it and process it, so that we could perhaps deal with it some day.
Its the first time so far where I haven't  felt defensive reading a feminist book, because perhaps I am old enough now, or perhaps because the author does a good of making it human.
Anyway, it brought some objectivity to my ordinarily ridiculously self-centered and biased perspective of myself. Which I really appreciate.

But underneath I find the topic to be hitting home dramatically right now. Because in essence I feel like whether I want to be or not, I am proving manhood right now by denying or not breaking down from the emotional stressers I am facing, I am remaining calm and sure footed in a world that feels completely turned upside down.

I do my duty, I don't rely too much, I keep shit together... but none of this really.
I am avoiding work, and emotions, and hard conversations, and hard thoughts. I am processing on one level what I am avoiding on another.
I feel like I relate to this author, who describes being rewarded and pushed ahead and seen as an expert like a good man while simultaneously saying and doing things he is unsure of, feels like he hasn't thought through, doesn't understand, doesn't feel like an expert on.

He gives a really poignant description of his life, in a reflection on his deceased mother

Mother:
Since your death thirty years ago, your presence is a film covering my experience, darkening it and making the world, the world of my life, seem farther away. If i could pop you open, a thousand memories would appear and move me, breaking and healing my heart, and making the world real again.  Your unreality places the world so far away. Your unreality makes my life unreal.  But I can't, don't know how to pop you open, and as I move deeper into middle age, I wonder whether the attention I give you is worth the effort, But still, I sense, Until you are real, I will not be real.

For some reason this resonated with me tonight, as I think about all the unreal situations I am facing and wonder who I am. How can I be real if I can't process all these things I should be processing... I go on, its rather easy actually, further in my delusions, pretending things are fine, crying at odd moments, unable to really touch this thing that is outside my reach, because if I did, I'd be a mess... maybe, maybe too needy, too unresponsive or irresponsible. I'd be too much of a child reaching for his mommy, and even my Mommy would be turned off like "who is this emotional wreck of a child, this is not what I raised, I raised a sensitive but strong man."  

I gave my first sperm donation tonight.  I was not ready, I didn't know what I was doing. I hadn't really prepared, I hadn't waited long enough. I hadn't figured out how to produce enough... you know... I'm sitting around questioning my masculinity, my male-ness. I am embarrassed, I am worried that if things don't work out it will be my fault.

But all of this is what it is.

One of the conclusions that has weighed on my mind for a while is that i have been spoiled by good friends. But I wonder if I were any less spoiled just how neurotic I would be at this point.  Its been hard for me lately to get deep with the people I want to, like I can't really really be me... this damn film on my life or perhaps I am just too afraid to let my guard down. Anyway all of this is making me realized how strange my performance of masculinity truly is. My hair is in pigtails but I am stoic, I am dancing to the music but I can't be perceived as needing anything.

I am forgetful of my friends and family, and neglectful, and perhaps even hurtful, because I am not centered, because I am not focused, because I am caught up in the act of being purposeful.

I don't know. I thought I would be able to write and have things make sense, but not that I have written it seems even more jumbled.
It is

My room smells like cat pee

I think because I haven't had the window open for a few days I suddenly noticed what my room regularly smells like. I probably need to do a complete sweep and clean.

I think I have been operating under a different set of assumptions about how a friendship works than some of my besties lately.  There is something slightly off, and I have been feeling slighted, but perhaps its just a different way of seeing things. 

I don't know. This afternoon I was thinking I need to change things. 

I am pretty sure I am going to chop off my hair something like 8 months early, but who needs schedules?

On the way home I was thinking maybe things aren't supposed to fall into place, because this isn't the place for them to fall together right... but that was after reading for hours about the devastation of people and the planet by misguided attempts at ecological change...   I really enjoy this style of history. In this style, economics and politics are impacted by the environment rather than the other way around. 

It makes more sense in the overarching history than most other theories...

Oh well those are my thoughts.

I keep writing things feeling sorry for myself.
Then not posting them.
I wait.

You are my sweetest downfall

Tomorrow is starting to feel like it may be a busy day. Something about not having a lot to do, makes you feel overwhelmed when a day is full. 

I couldn't get to sleep last night, I had so many thoughts that weren't necessarily invited, but they kept me up  till something like 4:30 (or later), after I tried to go to bed at about 1:30.  Then my Dad pocket dialed me at 7:30 and it started again. I think I got back to sleep by around 9ish, but it was super annoying.

I am supposed to do this video project for SoT, something about how SoT has impacted my faith and how community organizing is beneficial. I wrote up a script. It looks like the following.

My faith journey began as a child, baptized and brought up in the Lutheran church, I found myself in youth groups, volunteering in the nursery and for church plays. Going on youth mission trips. Confirmation classes, my faith and values developed through the stories in the bible and I began to understand very deeply that God works through people in the world, and wants us to be welcoming and to cherish each other as brothers and sisters.

Unfortunately, I didn’t see that in the church, by 16 or so, I felt like the church was a place that talked a big game, but didn’t follow through in action. 

I left the church but continued to explore my spirituality, and intended to act on my  deeply held values in the world. I became a high school teacher for at risk youth, working with these teenagers I wanted to help them recognize they have a place in a world but found that the world mostly attempts to keep them marginalized.

This is partially why the values at Spirit of Truth call out to me, in our community we recognize its not enough to talk a big game, we have to create the world we want to see.

We have started this in our community, getting to know each other through community events, art nights, yoga, prayer groups potlucks, discussion groups, talking, listening, singing together.

In these community building activities we have found shared stories, shared values and an eagerness to create a community and a larger society where all people are recognized and feel God’s love in their community. In our organizing we have also taken on social justice actions, working with Nurses, Low Wage Workers, union Members and most recently the Equality movements for justice in Marriage rights.

Personally this organizing has challenged me to speak out on the places where I see injustice, has moved me to be a part of the change to create a better world, and has allowed me to reconcile much of my faith values with the way I live my life.  I find at SoT we create together a space where holistically people’s needs are met, nourished and their gifts are allowed to blossom.

Being a member of SoT has opened new doors for me, given me clarity and allowed me to feel free to be my true self in the world, in a way that I have never experienced.  I think this is something that God wants for all of us. 

 Its funny how when you try to write something that feels real, it ends up sounding fake and vv. 

I think one thing that has changed about me in the last few years is that I no longer get so anxious about absolutes. I was rereading that last post and it seemed very absolutist in some things, but in general, I think I am less so. I am learning to experience and enjoy the complex gray wilderness.  I am more okay with contradicting myself in a sentence. I am more okay relying on people's good intentions.  Well, to some extent. 

Then there are the ways it is infuriating right?  I still expect those.

I thought I had something to say, but I am not sure I do. 

Listening to this band a lot 

Sharing Humanity

I spent a few hours today talking to a friend. She has this habit of crying when we talk, and she blames it on me, or rather assigns the moods she gets into to our discussions. She also hints at the possibility of more almost every time we depart. 

We were talking about human experiences, like crying, being moved, feeling isolated and alone in the universe. She projects an image of me that makes me feel like I am intriguing and profound. I find it hard to understand sometimes. I tend to chalk it up to the fact that she rarely shares much of herself with anyone, so of course a conversationalist who likes to listen, or who shares a bit of vulnerability, or who makes it seem comfortable enough,  well that feels like a kind of connection, a kind of miracle, and I walk away feeling like I've been a part of something meaningful, but not entirely as out of the ordinary as she presumes it to be. 

Yesterday she and my coworker startled me in their shared assessment that I fit the description I was giving of a "good" person, and I quickly dismissed it. It was one of those moments where you are shocked by the way others perceive you, like I walk around all day with my head in a different world than they do... and I chalk it up to the fact that they are good, and want to see good in others who they relate to, but I am not sure it is that simple. 

I've been dreaming of familiar people, people who aren't a part of my life on the regular, but their being around in mundane roles seems comforting in the dreams. I wonder if it means anything. Like preparation for something.

The thought occurred to me tonight that perhaps the opposite of what I assumed might happen could happen if I do end up helping conceive this child. Perhaps I will drop my obsessive thoughts on morality and just enjoy life, regardless of the consequences, like "I've done my work to ensure the future, so fuck it, time to enjoy the present."   This is contrasted with that assumption I have always had that said "When I have a reason to live, I will live better." and perhaps, that statement is hurtful to some in my life, but it seemed fitting enough.

At least 20 million

That title is in response to the test. Really rather amazing how many cells can fit in a tiny drop of something.

Speaking of amazing...

Sometimes I forget that underneath all my loathing, anger, cynicism etc... I am actually quite in awe of how beautiful this world, this life can be.

This hit me when I was watching the Olympics for 10 minutes. 10 minutes of my life and I started tearing up at the beauty of synchronized diving, this coming from the guy who hates the olympics because they are a spectacle of nationalism and commercialism and all that is wrong with humans... and yet how beautiful humans can be...