Misadventures in the Journey of Life

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Terminated.

I was fired last week. There, I said it. I’m getting it off my chest. I was fired last week from a job that I severely disliked and I was admittedly miserable at. I dreaded going to work ever single day. It got to the point where, when I was let go, I felt a massive weight come off my shoulders. I wanted out and this was the most blunt way of it happening.

I was fired last week. The proverbial professional “f” word. The one that future companies will enquire about. Perhaps he was a bad egg. Perhaps he was lazy and constantly late. Perhaps he drank on the job. Perhaps he wasn’t smart enough or qualified enough for the position. Perhaps he was already thinking about leaving and was mentally checked out. Getting fired is the career equivalent of getting divorced. Even if it’s “irreconcilable differences” and the parting of ways was almost mutual — there will always be that judgment. That black mark. A smudge on your past that you can’t fully escape.

I was fired last week. Coming from someone who is a self-described “workaholic”, it was a blow. Someone who, even upon when I was terminated, I was told I was probably one of the most thorough individuals who have ever held that position. Too thorough, evidently. They say that, psychologically getting fired can be the mental equivilent of losing a loved one. You rarely see it coming and most of us define our careers as an extension of who we are. So being let go is, in a way, someone telling you that you are a lie. All that you thought you were professionally was just an illusion.

I was fired last week. And it sucks. There’s no bones about it. Even Muhammad Ali took some blows that knocked him down — and I’m hardly the man that he was. But laying on the mat isn’t an option. Self-pity is not a road I can afford to travel down. The importance behind the saying “get back on the horse” is that if you don’t, it starts to affect you. You begin to fear the horse and you will eventually never ride again. Your defeat drags you down. Getting fired is no different.

I was fired last week. But that’s not who I am today.

Sunday, January 8, 2017

On Writing.

“To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it’s about, but the inner music that words make.” — Truman Capote

Ask any writer, no matter what the purpose of their craft is, what the most intimidating thing is and you’ll get one answer: the blank page. That ticking, blinking cursor just waiting for you to start pushing buttons and jumble about the alphabet enough to produce something…hopefully good, at least. The expectation to create greatness from absolutely nothing is quite paralyzing at times. Especially when you have a deadline looming over your head. Consider this Insight #1 on the crafting of words.

Insight #2 is that there are no rules. Oh sure, you can take all the creative writing classes you want and they’ll tell you that there are steadfast guidelines on which you need to follow — but the fact of the matter is that unless you’re in journalism or any other paid format writing business, there aren’t any concrete commandments on how you go about it.

I have three perfect examples for this: Finnegans Wake by James Joyce, the children’s books of Dr. Seuss, and the collective works of both Hunter S. Thompson and Kurt Vonnegut. Finnegans Wake was, according to Wikipedia: “significant for its experimental style and reputation as one of the most difficult works of fiction in the English language…The entire book is written in a largely idiosyncratic language, consisting of a mixture of standard English lexical items and neologistic multilingual puns and portmanteau words, which many critics believe were attempts to recreate the experience of sleep and dreams.” Dr. Seuss took the format of children’s books, filled them with rhymes that they would love and would remember for years to come, and then use the format to teach children about racism, environmental issues, and other topics that we would assume would be far over a child’s head. And, let’s be honest, the collective works of both Hunter S. Thompson and Kurt Vonnegut are, for lack of a better term, hallucinogenic. Exhibit A: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Slaughterhouse 5.

So stop worrying about breaking some all-binding literary decree and start making art. It’s as simple as that.

Insight #3. There are far too few honest writers out there. Anyone can write a book. At times, it feels like everyone but me is writing a book. But how many tomes sitting on shelves in both book shops and inside homes were written to serve the sole purpose of making both the author and publisher some money? How many books out there actually SAY something? Ask yourself this as you’re browsing through the library or book store: How many of these were published because they fulfilled a genuine purpose?

Insight #4. Don’t try to get into a writer’s head or try and figure them out. Period. Most of the time even we don’t know what our thought process is. The best quote for this was by Victor Hugo: “A writer is a world trapped in a person.”

Insight #5. Your favorite writer, whoever it may be, is probably screwed up in the head somehow. Wikipedia has an article on writers who have committed suicide and the list is quite lenghty (at least 200). Also lengthy is another article on Thought Catalog listing writers who were alcoholic (99). May others were addicted to other substances — I learned this morning that Robert Louis Stevenson, the author of Treasure Island and The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde once wrote 60,000 words in six days while on cocaine.

But the number one thing all writers are addicted to: Writing. There’s a genuine need for it and life is unfulfilling if we go too long without writing.

Insight #6. Writers love words. Love them. The way they sound, the way they look, the way they perfectly describe something and give it meaning. When I was in high school, I would randomly start reading the dictionary. Before I start any sort of piece, I have a separate tab for the thesaurus website open. I have fallen in love with how something is phrased— many times. I’ll even jot them down so I can read it again later.

The other thing that we love is writing instruments — particularly pens. The way they look is important; but also the sounds that they make when scratching on paper. Weight is crucial to a good pen. If it’s too heavy, it creates hand fatigue. It also (and this may sound stupid, but it’s important) must be portable. If a pen is too large, it will be set down and promptly forgotten somewhere. And whoever came up with the concept of tiny pens and pencils was clearly not right in the head.

Insight #7. The true keys to being a phenomenal writer are actually quite simple: Read good writers. Your writing will start to mimic them, so focus on someone who is truly talented. Write a lot. Daily, if possible. The more you practice the craft, the more you’re able to perfect it. In fact, you don’t even need to focus on one project. Sometimes all you need to do is throw words on a page and walk away. Sometimes, many times, that’s all you’ll be able to accomplish, any way. Especially if you are going through a bout of writer’s block. And lastly, don’t give up. As with all aspects in life, it’s a marathon, not a sprint. You will fail. You will write utter crap. You will get shot down by many publishers. But giving up isn’t an option. No matter what that little voice in your head and the doubters outside it try and convince you.

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

Let. Go.

I have a simple exercise for you. Take three small sheets of paper and a pen. On the first piece of paper, write down all your limits, faults, mistakes, and other things like that. Then crumple it up and throw it away.

On the second piece of paper, write down all your dreams and ambitions. Everything you want to achieve in this life. Then crumple it up and throw it away.

On the third piece of paper, write down your routines, daily schedule, and plans for the next year. Then crumple it up and throw it away.

Now that you have just shed yourself of everything that you thought was you, what does that leave you with? Simple. Limitless unexpected opportunity. You see, there is a whole world of chance that we are completely blind to because we are held up by those three sheets of paper. We blame society for the so-called box — but the true reality is that we are the ones who not only put ourselves in it, but create it in the first place. The saying “we are our own worst enemies” is all-encompasing. It is the fear of the unknown and an inherent need to stay in a place of known comfort that keeps us locked down.

I’ll give you a perfect example: Kenya, which is one of the poorest countries in the world, has produced the world’s best marathon runners. Jamaica, which is a country that rarely, at best has seen snow, has a bobsled team. Man first stepped foot on the moon a mere 66 years after the Wright brothers had their first flight. Something they accomplished with a slide rule and far less technology than the computer I am typing this post on.

There’s a saying: “Proceed as if success is inevitable.” The only way you can ever accomplish this is if you let go of everything that you think you know and take that first step. So, stop clipping your own wings and take flight to the limitless skies.

Sunday, December 25, 2016

Alone at Christmas

It’s a little after eleven in the morning on Christmas day. I’m sitting here, in an empty house, drinking coffee. Listening to a holiday music mix that I made on Spotify. It’s a bit of peace and relative quiet that I have been craving all holiday season. I can honestly say that I’m enjoying this rare sliver of relaxation.

And yet, deep down, there’s a pang of pain in my heart. The sadness of being alone. At Christmas.

You see, while I have plenty of friends, coworkers, and family, there is no true replacement for having a special someone during the holidays. Honestly, there’s no true replacement for having a special someone any time during the year — but I feel the agony most during this time of year. The time of year when people take most for granted their families. The fret and stress for finding the perfect gift for their significant others and/or children. They even get bitter when they have to go through all of this supposed trouble. Yet, here I am, wishing I had someone special who wanted to spend the holidays with me. Instead of sitting in an empty house, drinking coffee, and listening to bittersweet melodies of Christmas past.

I didn’t set up a tree this year. Not a single stocking was hung. There isn’t a wreath on my door. The gifts that I have received are still wrapped. To be honest, I’m not looking forward to opening them. Not because I don’t appreciate them. I truly do. But, doing it alone, with no one to share the joy with. Well, it feels as empty as the house I’m sitting in.

Monday, December 12, 2016

The Heart of Ebenezer

“You are fettered,” said Scrooge, trembling. “Tell me why?”
“I wear the chain I forged in life,” replied the Ghost. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it.” — Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

The whole of Ebenezer Scrooge’s life changed in span of one evening. Years, decades, of a man’s pursuit for financial stability and steadfast business growth turned him into a callous of a human being. His heart and soul became so entrenched in the balancing of nickels and dimes for profit that it iced over to a hardened glacier. He had little use for people and even less for their holidays. Yet, in the span of a few hours in a fever pitched dream, his phantom conscience wrapped in chains paid him a visit and he finally had a second chance at life in the last chapter of it.

We are, in some form or fashion, an Ebenezer. The sheer act of self-perseveration requires us do whatever it takes to survive. Even the poorest among us places deep reverence in the pursuit of the almighty dollar. Subconsciously or not. They say that the best things in life are free, but you still need money to acquire the things it takes to live. Still, when we take that pursuit and let it consume us. When it goes far beyond self-preservation into the land of blind greed — that is when money becomes a root of evil. The golden calf was created by man, but the deity he created was a version of himself. We take portraits of dead politicians and put it on our currency. We allow the concept of monetary gain consume us — at times to the point where we let it control our relationships with others. We set aside people we care deeply about so we can amass wealth. And, in turn, we begin to lose sight on why we live in the first place.

Scrooge, in the end, had his second chance. It took a phantasmal wake up call, but he changed. On our ends, it often also takes an equally drastic event — may it be a car accident, a health scare, or the sudden loss of a loved one or friend, to wake us up and change our priorities. The thing of it is, we have always had the opportunity to switch gears. But without a climatic, possibly catastrophic circumstance, we allow our daily lives to blind us to these changes. Yet, it doesn’t have to be that way. All it takes is the force of will to alter the course of our lives. All is required is the same fortitude that you would put into, say, finding a new job or quitting a bad habit; you can use to start being benevolent to your fellow man. Turn the other cheek and forgive. Go out of your way to help a total stranger. In essence, un-Scrooge yourself.

I leave you with a quote: “Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.” — Joan Didion. If you were to face the spector of your former mentor, what would you have to say to them? What would they have to say to you? If you were to take the three roads of Christmas past, present, and future, would you be pleased by the journeys? Or wake up covered in sweat and ready to change your life for the better? Or, even worse, suffer the fate of Marley and pass before you even have the chance to.

The door to a better life is waiting fully open for you. I hope it doesn’t take a haunting for you to walk through it.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

George Bailey

“Well, not just one wish. A whole hatful. Mary, I know what I’m gonna do tomorrow and the next day and the next year and the year after that. I’m shaking the dust of this crummy little town off my feet and I’m gonna see the world.” James Stewart as George Bailey — It’s a Wonderful Life

George Bailey was the model person that everyone strived to be. He knew from the moment he was born what he thought his purpose in life was. If you were to ask him what he was going to do with this life, without batting an eye, he would tell you that he was going to be an engineer and a world traveler. Certainly not married or fathering any children. At first chance he was going to leave Bedford Falls and never look back. Not only that, but you could depend on George in a pinch to help you out — no matter what the problem was. He was mister go-to and reliable.

Life, however, had an entirely different path for Mr. Bailey. His father’s business, the Building and Loan, he would inherit. His travels around the world, as fas as we’re aware, never happened. In fact, it appears that he never even leaves Bedford Falls. He not only gets married to someone he never thought he would marry, but has four kids and lives in a house he shunned growing up. In summary, it’s a complete 180 of everything he planned his life to be. And he doesn’t take the change in path lightly.

Two of the things that makes It’s a Wonderful Life far ahead of it’s time is that it brings suicide and depression to the discussion table and it’s done in a non-patronizing manor. George Bailey, who suffers from severe depression throughout most of the movie, is not considered weak for feeling this way. In fact, most of the town regards him as one of the bravest people who has ever lived there. When he reaches the point of wanting to end his life, the whole town rallies together to come to his aid. Nobody tells him to “lighten up” or “stop being sad”. When he’s on the bridge, nobody drives by him yelling the word “jump”. Nobody calls him a failure; even though he feels like one.

The other big thing is that it shows the impact one person’s life has on others. One of the most crucial lines in the movie is given by his guardian angel, Clarence: “Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?” George Bailey witnesses, in full detail, what would happen if he had never been born in the first place. He sees just how much of a negative ripple effect he would leave if he took his own life. He finally has a chance to observe what an impact he has made. As Clarence put it: “You see, George, you’ve really had a wonderful life. Don’t you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?”

If ever this timeless holiday classic was most pertinent, it’s now. “Hope” seems to be an increasingly rare commodity. We have elected a “warped, frustrated old man” who may very well turn America into a giant Pottersville. Multiple studies have shown a dramatic increase in depression in most age groups within the past decade. We are, for lack of a better term, suffering. This film, which just so happens to be celebrating it’s 70th anniversary this year, is just as poignant and reverent as the year it was released.

So, go watch It’s a Wonderful Life. If nothing else than to be reminded “Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends.”

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Trust.

Being lied to sucks. Being lied to to your face sucks even more. Being lied to your face, and finding out the actual truth perhaps an hour, at most, is infuriating. Which is a simple example of the pure truth of how fragile trust truly is. And why we cannot believe our own species.

Humans are flawed. I am a perfect example of this. But, as defective as our species is, we create our own disasters. There is always a storm on the horizon; but, ten to one, it is of our own making. Humans create hurricanes and dwell within them. Not intentionally, mind you, but that doesn’t varnish the harsh truth of why we can never full live with our own race. What we seek out, we wish to destroy. Not immediately, but in the long run. History is a blatant illustration of this. Why? Because, in the long run, it is the perpetuant of change. Change being the constant formula for the perpetuant of our species.

Yet, there is no excuse for the destuction of the fragility of assurance. When you lie, you break an expantant contract of honesty and bond with your fellow man. Plain and simple. When you deny someone the honest truth, you make them doubt, not only themselves, but what they know to be true. A white lie can lead to a pebble’s throw against the mirror of someone’s mirror of reality. A blatant stone of deception will cause someone to alter their perception of, not only who you are, but who they are. You break what they know to be true. A disrepair that may take years, if ever, to repair.

So, as Shakespeare once said, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.” Truth hurts. But not nearly as much as a lie. So why deny someone something so important as sincerity. When you lie, you damage two people: yourself and who you are lying to.

In the end, when you lie to someone, you lie to y0urself, as well.