13 Years.

Today, for all intents and purposes, was a normal day. Except that it wasn’t. Today marks the thirteenth anniversary of when my life changed completely. Today marks the thirteenth anniversary of when I lost my dad. Today marks the anniversary of when I watched him die.

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My dad, even though he was a former mountain climber, avid hiker, and developed a love of mountain biking in the final year of his life; had eleven different lung diseases. It was a brutal combination of genetics, working with asbestos and other toxins without a mask, and the fact that he smoked for 33 years. He had multiple inhalers that he used on a daily basis. One of them was an emergency inhaler. It was that particular inhaler he was going for when he had his fatal asthma attack. He was feet from the medicine that could have saved his life and he didn’t make it.

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The thing most people don’t know about my dad is that he wasn’t my biological father. Yet, he raised both my sister and I as if we were his kids. He was our father, even if it wasn’t by blood. I changed my last name officially in high school — even though I had been using it for most of my schooling years. My parents had celebrated their 15th wedding anniversary twenty days before he was suddenly taken from us. Fifteen life changing years.

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I still miss him. Not every day, like the first few years after he passed. But, randomly, my heart will twinge at a memory. Or a desire for me to share something with him. That desire still hasn’t left me and I know it never will. I still love him, even though I lost the sound of his voice and his laugh.For the first decade, this was the worst day of the year for me. Now there’s a bittersweet acceptance that life can change in an instant — and end even faster.

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Life is far too short. So tell the ones you love that you love them. Forgive someone now, before it’s too late. And never fail to say goodbye. Because you never know when the last time you’ll be able to say it will be.

Not Every Question Has An Answer

Sometimes, there will be events in your life that will unfold that you won't ever get an answer for. A sudden death in the family. Being fired from a job you spent the last 20 years working at. Earthquakes and other natural disasters. Even positive things like falling in love with a blind date or finding $20 on a park bench. The point of the matter is that sometimes, randomly, things just, well, happen. 

Change is the only constant we have in this life. We like to imagine that there's always some warning signs or things we can control how they unfold - but the fact of the matter is, sometimes fate is just that. Countless philosophers, teachers, scientists, and other learned individuals will spend years, sometimes their entire lives, finding justifications for these "acts of God". Yet, we all experience moments like these. 

Think about this: how many individuals out there are "accidents"? Meaning that their conceptions were completely unplanned. Now, an even more interesting question is how many of these "accidents" never should have happened in the first place? Ten to one, you know at least one person who shouldn't be here because one of the parents was sterile, on some form of birth control, or it was the wrong time of the month. Despite all pre-existing logic, the sperm met the egg and life began. 

Another unlikely, yet surprisingly common phenomenon are people who are just suddenly cured from cancer. They had gone through treatments that were stabilizing them without actually being the antidote - and then one day the person wakes up completely cancer free. A medical miracle that could last years, if not permanently. Occasionally, when this occurs, it makes the news, but not always. 

The point of the matter is this: as humans, it's engrained in us to find meaning in all things. Each quandary must have a solution. Each event must have a logical course of action leading up to it. "For every action, there's an opposite and equal reaction" (Newton's Third Law of Motion). To counterbalance all the chaos we see in the world, there must be some outward predisposition that led up to that point. Those who study history are the ones who spend their lives focused on searching for why were are at the point in time that we are at. We are always in pursuit of the "how" that led up to the "why".

Not every question has an answer and not every event in your life or the lives of those around you has to make sense. Sometimes things just are the way they are. What truly matters is how you approach it when it happens. Are you someone who will accept it for what it is and move on or are you someone who will be consumed by either changing the events or searching for meaning behind them. Are you someone who is going to let a random bad day turn into a bad month because you're incapable of letting go; or do you take advantage of the next dawn and turn it into a better day than the previous?

For it is how you face the questions that lead to how the answers come about. Are you going to be consumed by the things you cannot change or embrace the day for what it truly is: a chance to start again?

The Consequences of Hate.

So, this is the first chance that I've had to process what happened in Orlando over the weekend. 49 dead, multiple others wounded because a, for lack of a better word, man was so filled with hatred that he decided to walk into a crowded nightclub and purposefully take the lives of as many as he could.  I will also note that I have attempted this post multiple times, but with each start, I get crushed under the sheer weight of the tragedy. So, bear with me, here goes:

Now before I continue, I want to get something straight. This isn't a gun issue (although it is time to have a very honest conversation about automatic weapons in this country) and it's not a God issue (the shooter, last I heard, is Muslim with ties to ISIS. I'm not sure if that info is still correct). It is a 100% love verses hate issue. Let me break it down for you.

A person, regardless of whether or not they have guns and believe in a god will behave differently towards their fellow man if they are either A) loved or B) filled with hate. Now, if you think that I'm marginalizing the victims and the beliefs of the shooter, let me assure you that that is not the case at all.   What happened was a tragedy, pure and simple. The people in the club were not out to hurt anyone. They did not have an agenda. All they wanted to do was to celebrate. They were filled with love. The man who walked into the club with an assault rifle, a pistol, and a single agenda to kill as many people as he could was, without a doubt, filled with hate. He very well could have used a bomb.  It very well could have been a church. In this particular instance, however, it was some guns and a whole of of unsuspecting people who had no right to die.

Love doesn't walk into a club and open fire. Love doesn't fly planes into skyscrapers. Love doesn't burn crosses and hang innocent men, women, and children. Love doesn't blow up hospitals. Love doesn't murder children. Love doesn't starve people to death because they're not the same "tribe" as you. Love doesn't dismember and disfigure people. Love does not create orphans. Love does not torture animals. None of these are acts of love.

One of the most heart-wrenching things that I have read (and I'll share the link of the article below) was a CNN article on the "Eerie sounds of cell phones amid disaster". The piece recounts how the first responders came into a field of bodies and their phones going off from people trying to reach the dead in sheer, desperate hope that their loved one was still alive. That, that is love. The outpouring of support, not just locally with all the donated blood that went into attempts to save the victims, but outpouring of support from all over the world to show solidarity and unity towards the victims. That is love. Those who put their own prejudices aside and reached out to show that they care as well. That is love.

"There is no fear in love. But perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." (1st John 4:18). The actions that happened last weekend were the acts of fear and hate. The perpetration of rage personified. As we mourn the dead, we must also learn from them. Embrace the fragility of life and create bonds with one another. Because the true message of the Orlando shooting shouldn't be that hate still exists, but that love still trumps it.

With this, I bid you adieu once again. Take care, my dear readers. May we cross paths again at least once more.

The CNN article: http://www.cnn.com/2013/01/28/health/cell-phones-death/index.html

The Misfit Toy

So, there's a certain Christmas special that plays every year that is called Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. The premise is that there's this reindeer who's born with a glowing red nose who is immediately shunned by his peers and his own father thinks he's a disgrace. There's also an elf who is shunned because he would rather be a dentist instead of a toymaker. They meet up, become instant friends, and run away from society because they know they'll never fit in there. Along the way, they meet a gold miner who couldn't find a nugget if he was standing on it and they wind up on the Island of Misfit Toys (which, by the way, is one of the songs). There's another song that is played that is called "Why Am I Such a Misfit". Anyway, the point of all this is that tonight, as I was taking a shower, is that I am essentially a misfit toy. Hear me out.

During all of my schooling years, I had friends in all the cliques. Some of my closest friends were cheerleaders and football players; as well as theater geeks and the goths. Nobody said I couldn't make friends with a certain group, so I made friends in all the groups. It was actually quite harmonious. I personally, in high school at least, leaned heavily towards the geekier side of things - I was a library aid and theater tech for three years and on the school newspaper for two. I also took German - not the cool languages of Spanish and French. It was also in high school when I picked up my affinity for science and started playing chess with my dad. And, even though I was invited to multiple parties, I never went to anything outside of the occasional school dance. I was, for lack a better description, very happily in my own shell.

In my early twenties, as I have mentioned many times, I lost my dad. I spiraled into a vast sucking pit of depression that lasted until, to be quite honest, I moved to Texas and started my life over from scratch.  Yes, I made friends during this period of time, but I wasn't me and I certainly wasn't whole. I was, and still am to some degree, a stain glass window that's missing a few pieces. While everyone else around me seems normal, I can't help but feel a bit broken. It's just who I am.

It goes further, as well. For someone who is a self professed geek, I enjoy watching sports and playing baseball. Two of my favorite series are Firefly and Harry Potter; but I get equally excited watching the Seattle Seahawks and the San Antonio Spurs.  I can go to a comic book convention and have a blast and then go to one of my favorite craft breweries and enjoy a great beer with friends.

It goes even deeper than that. I was raised in a Christian home and my dad hosted a Bible study throughout most of my childhood. I am a Christian, as well, solely because that was my decision and my parents wanted me to choose whatever path I sought out. I am even a licensed minister. But, some of the most profound teachings I have received throughout the past year or so has been from a close friend of mine who is Wiccan and studying Buddhism. The teachings he has shared with me have been of the Buddhist variety. So, while there's zero danger of me "switching sides" so to speak, the teaching of a different belief system has helped me grow in my own. To expand upon that, I have friends that cover pretty much the entire spectrum of faiths - everyone from atheists and pagans to a couple Jews and even a high school friend who's Muslim. Not to mention fellow Christians, as well.

Politically, I also don't fit. I grew up in a pretty conservative household, but I have noticed that, within the past year or so, that I have become a lot more moderate. This honestly has everything to do with the actions of those in the Republican party and how much it conflicts with my faith. To the point where I'm fully planning and have been advocating for a self described socialist Jew. Someone who is a far from the political spectrum as anyone I would have dared considered voting for growing up.

The point of this is that I don't fit in to any mold. I am, quite simply, who I am. And, most importantly, I have zero desire to change who I am to fit into someone's concept of who I should be. Because, at the end of the day, if you can't love a misfit toy for being what it is, you have no right to play with it.

Drawing To A Close

The beautiful thing about the past is that we can move forward from it. We can use the lessons that our mistakes teach us as a stepping stone to a better future. And we can use the pain of previous events to allow us to grow in full new directions.

As I'm writing this, it is almost three in the morning of December 13th. It is 12 days until Christmas and 18 days until New Year's Eve. Which means that 2015 is rapidly drawing to a close. This, as I have spoken about many times previously, has been a drastically difficult year for me. Health wise. Occupation wise. Relationship (both with friends and family) wise. Financial wise. I have been reminded of my own mortality. I have been shown time and time again that nothing is permanent. I have learned that not every opportunity that seems to be impeccable on paper is meant to be. But with every tribulation and trial, there has been room for me to grow and mature. I'm not as wise as I previously thought I was, but I do know that I am wiser than I previously have been. And, while I have suffered much, I have also developed equally so.

A very recent development with me is that I am now once again speaking with someone that I care deeply about. I won't go into details, but there was an incident last year in which I had my feelings hurt; and in turn, I hurt hers. She and I haven't spoken since; until very recently. And, while she hasn't outwardly said it, I know that she no longer trusts me. She has every right not to. And I know that the only way I can ever gain that trust back is to slowly rebuild it. There is also a massive body of water separating us now; which is honestly for the best. I cannot see her with any sort of frequency any more. There will be full weeks where we will not meet. Which is a polar opposite from before, when I would see her at least once a week. It also means that when I do see her, it's because I have traveled hours out of my way just to see her. Even if it is for only five minutes at a time.

I am an entirely different person than I was this time last year. Living in the shadowed wasteland of the city you have considered to be your home town does something to you. The place where you have grown most of your roots is rapidly rotting to the core. I spent much, if not all of last year in a constant shroud of deep-seated depression. The same goes for this year. In fact, it wasn't until I finally fully transitioned over here that the veil of suffering began to lift. Sure, I have had some setbacks (to put it mildly) since moving here; but I am overall significantly more happy than I have been in some time. More content with how things are. It helps also that I am back in the bookstore environment and working with an amazing team. I'm slowly beginning to make friends over here, as well. That alone has been more difficult; since free time has now become a premium.

There is another change that is happening. One of my best friends has been posting Buddhist stories and proverbs. The main focus of them is accepting circumstances just as they are. We human (and I am most definitely guilty of this) drive ourselves mad trying to find the "meaning of life" and all the events that happen within it. Yet, some times, things just are the way they are. Some things happen and we are not meant to know the meaning of them; if there is any at all. So, the teachings coupled with the slower pace of life and I am finally starting to find the calm I need. The serenity of the ordinary. I can actually be in the moment now and embrace it for what it is. And I am fully beginning to understand "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself."

I do not know what 2016 has in store for me - but I'm okay with that. I do know that it will be a year of writing. I have this year's NaNoWriMo project that I'm going to actually turn into a novel. The same goes for last year's NaNoWriMo project. I'm also going to be outlining and beginning a young adult fantasy series. Seven books in that is the goal. And, before the closure of next year, I will have my memoir not only written, but hopefully published. That particular project I will be pulling much from this blog; as well as the previous major blog that I have written. Plus other topics that I have yet to touch on. I am also hoping to do some traveling next year. It has been far too long and my wanderlust gnaws at me daily.

In closing, I have one thing I wish my readers to do: let go. Life is too short for grudges. Life is too short to stay chained to the past. Life is too short to limit yourself to conceived notions of perfection. Let go and start living. Because none of us truly know how much time we actually have left.