The Luckiest Sumbitch You Know

I've determined that the people in my life who count the most flat out don't take me seriously.

How you present yourself to prospective and current employers, government officials, the people serving your food, baristas, tax collectors: these all matter.  But in the company of friends and close family, you should, in theory, be able to relax and not give a shit. 

This is where I get into trouble.

When I turned 24 years old and started really looking at "growing up" and what it meant, I started reading a lot of self-help and spiritual books.  One of them was Wayne Dyer's Real Magic, and in it, he said something that still amazes me:

"Be a student. Stay open and willing to learn from everyone and anyone. Being a student means you have room for new input. When you are green you grow, when you are ripe you rot. By staying green you will avoid the curse of being an expert. When you know in your heart that every single person you encounter in your lifetime has something to teach you, you are able to utilize their offerings in a profound way."

I had also read, around the same time, several other books that talked about deliberate innocence, about beings who have the wisdom of centuries and lifetimes, but who look at the world with the same wonder as an infant. 

From the time I was five, I'd been accustomed to being the smartest kid in the classroom.  Much of that, upon reflection, was delusion, implanted into me by TV and a very enthusiastic Mom. I learned quickly that people tend not to like the Hermione Grangers and Martin Princes of the schoolyard, but I stuck with it, likely costing me friendships and meaningful connections throughout most of my life.  Even my big ex, during our best times together, would grow weary of my superiority complex from time to time and call me on it.

So, I made the choice: if I had to lead, I would be a servant-leader, a general who would fight in the trenches with his men.  If I had to teach, I had to be just as willing to learn from my students as they were to learn from me.  And if I had to work in a group, embrace modesty in all I did. After all, someone else could be right.  And above all else, return to innocence, and start seeing the wonderful things around me right now. Stop and enjoy the sunset, even if it's between the 9th and 10th holes on the second twilight course at Chedoke (which did happen in 2005).

The result among my social group is that I am perceived as a grown-up kid, and not in a good way.

Innocence has a bad rap.  Our popular society equates it with "ignorance", with the inability to function in day-to-day life, with artsy-fartsy New Age flakes who are so about "positive thinking" that someone could set their hair on fire and they would suppress the urge to scream for the sake of maintaining their karma. 

An innocent, goes the view, is someone who is utterly unprepared to deal with "real life", the victim of swindlers and unscrupulous landlords, the prey of greasy used car salesmen and telemarketers.  Hell, I've even had one instance where a buddy of mine said to me, in a condescending way, "Now, Jody, don't forget to look both ways before crossing the street.".  Like, what the frak, man?.....

(Actually, it was 2:00am and I was pretty hammered by that point.  He probably saved my life). 

Just because I'm not an alpha who gets into scraps and throws shit when he's pissed; because I didn't become a suit or a uniform; because I wasn't captain of the football team; because I don't like telling people what they can and can't do; because I marvel at music, at sunsets, at cute animals, at the amazing moments that most people ignore and express it....does not give you licence to take me less seriously.

That's too bad, because the innocent retains some major qualities that most supposedly "functional" and "realistic" people don't have: trust in life and people, optimism, hope, faith.  And to be deliberately innocent, as I do, unites functionality with an inner awareness that leaves me largely free of the cynicism and jadedness that's infected so many people at the core.

Life's supposed to be fun!  All of it!   That's not to say people who are cynical don't have fun, but many of them find ways to complain even in the midst of times when they should be pretty god-damned happy.  Frequently, they like being right, pride themselves on being the smartest kid in the classroom, have their entire identities wrapped up in their brains. Well....shit! Life must really suck when you're smart, huh?

Lay bare the reality behind people's stated beliefs about life, and you'll find a lot of panhandlers sitting atop unopened treasure chests.  Renters complaining about leaky pipes when they don't have to shovel snow or fix anything themselves. Homeowners bitching about mortgages when they've got attics (I'm sorry, attics are pretty awesome!).  Quarter-lifers living with Mom and Dad claiming brokeness when they've got thousands socked away in the bank from not having to pay rent and hydro.  Couples complaining about their partners' late nights out when, no matter what time they come home, they are coming home to crawl into bed with them and hold them tight. You get the idea.

Thing is, you guys would do well to just not take things so seriously ALL the time.  Frankly, I'm probably the luckiest sumbitch you know, not because of what I have or what I've done, but because despite a tumultous year - maybe because of it - I'm now capable of looking at the world like I am five years old again, while still being able to hold a job, feed and clothe myself, and, yes, cross the street without being run over by a U-Haul truck.  Don't mistake my innocence for ignorance.

Will I have shitty spells?  Sure.  But fundamentally, life is good if you want it to be.  As K'Naan says, "Nothing is perfect man, that's just the way the world is.  All I know is, I'm enjoying today."

The Re-Split

Still in the Bubble....

My life, at present, involves splitting the hands I've been dealt.  In blackjack, you get to do this on occasion, when you get dealt cards of equal value: you bet extra chips and ask the dealer to split your hand and deal you two more cards, giving you two hands to play with. Some rules say you can re-split if you end up with two more hands of equal value each, playing up to four hands.  Evidently, whoever made those rules either encountered my current situation and found a gambling application for it, or they're secretly running the world and are trying to screw with me by giving me a precarious embarassment of opportunities.

I'm currently playing four hands.  I have to play all four because I don't know if one, more, or all four are going to bust and leave me broke, like those four hobos I encountered in Las Vegas who were forced to perform Flavah Flav hip-hop numbers for pennies outside the Venetian.  I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen: I'm not hip enough to cover those rhymes, and my beatboxing skills are somewhat lacking.

First Hand. My job with the government requires that I test at the advanced level on written French.  I must do this by Halloween or I may find myself unemployed.  My first of possibly two tests is on September 23rd: I say "possibly" because if I do not rate "advanced" this time, I only have one more shot before October 31st.  As such, I'm spending the next ten days practicing, writing drill tests for two to three hours every day on my own time.  Common sense dictates you save the job you have.  It's your only sure bet.  Plus, this is my last requirement: after this, I'm permanent, and union-protected. 

Second Hand.  That being said, I am still applying to other positions in the government.  I also have to make time for this in case I do find myself on EI in two and a half-months time and looking for work.  Given the speed at which government moves to get anything done, this is the time to apply to jobs posted now.  They'll start calling me back just when I need them to the most.  Of course, this also requires me to devote time to resume creation, requiring more coffee and face time in front of a computer.

Third Hand:  Convergence.  Sometimes I forget that the novel is my main life career goal.  Of course, people at work have already advised me to put this on the backburner, but frankly, it's not their place to tell me this.  As it happens, though, I'm currently caught in writer's block trying to wrap it up, but my goal is to have it finished before I turn 30.  That's three and a half weeks away, so the clock is ticking. 

Fourth Hand: Acting.  Yes, you read that correctly.  During Ribfest, I was approached by a film and TV talent agency that was looking for people with no experience.  They only pick 650 people a year to represent, don't charge money up front (they make money only if they land you a job, then they take 20%) and are one of the more reputable talent agencies around (they have submitted talent for TV ads for major banks, extra and speaking roles for Hollywood features, etc..).  I'd initially approached them on behalf of a friend who's already in the industry, then, in a moment of Hollywood fantasy indulgence, decided to sign myself up.  I acted in high school, in drama and in the musical, and it was fun, so I thought I'd try something new. 

A few days ago, they called me to come in and create a profile, which I did on Saturday.  Turns out someone of my complexion and age is hard to find: most 29 year old Indian-looking males are either big managers or bankers or computer people, don't look as attractive, or have personal and or cultural reasons not to go into acting.

I've never felt prouder to be a corporate failure than I do now.

They may already have an audition for me, and for the next few years, I'm in a very small demographical niche as far as acting and modeling talent is concerned.  I'll find out soon enough, but I'll have to find a licensed entertainment photographer to produce head shots. How this works into my existing work schedule remains to be seen, but it's a new adventure, and I can't say no to a new adventure.  Those who risk, win.

This is only career-related stuff.  I'm doing all of this as the same time that I'm exercising, looking for a new relationship, working with my existing groups and friendships while trying to make new ones, family time....ugh, it's insane. 

All said, this is the busiest month I've had in the longest time.  It's entirely possible that it all falls apart: acting doesn't pan out, my novel never gets done, I never get any of those other jobs and I bomb my bilingual test and end up being let go.  But playing all four hands boosts my chances of success like you wouldn't believe, so even though they contradict each other, I have to play like a champion.

Good thing I'm living my days a minute at a time.  Any more and I'd likely develop an ulcer.

A Lone Wolf in a Bubble Universe

Every now and then, I find myself in a bubble universe.

Growing up, I was a lone wolf.  Never the most popular kid on the playground, always lost in my own daydreams at recess (and not always by choice), I spent a lot of time wandering around the trees and bike paths, reading, drawing, writing, and just thinking.  High school came around, and I started making friends, met a girl there who I eventually followed to university, where I would then meet some of my closest friends, more family than family in many cases.  For much of the past ten years, I was a social being, a denizen of a community and civilization, seldom a day passing by when I didn't see or talk to someone I knew.

As for that girl, I would live with her for most of my twenties, marry her, and ultimately split from her. My family of friends remained, although many of them have either moved away, or our day-to-day lives have tended to diverge.  These days, for the most part, I've become a lone wolf again, and I've returned to exploring the wild.

I'm ambivalent about my alone time.  Loneliness abounds, and yet so does freedom.  I sleep alone, and yet I sleep wherever I want.  Often, I miss having someone to come home to, and yet I come and go as I please.  It's all a contradiction made manifest, my life at present.  Sometimes, though, I question whether it's that I choose this lifestyle, or if I've just gotten used to it.

Then, the bubble appears.

The human experience of existence sometimes generates more solitary shamans than venerated priests, of which I am definitely more of the former.  At this moment, I'd rather live with what feels right than what makes rationalistic or intellectual sense; would rather express sentiment, not argument; do what I want, even if the group begs to differ.  When I feel this way, I know that I'm in the bubble.

Several signs also indicate that my universe has become a bubble.  For starters, my sarcasm has lost all effectiveness.  I make jokes, friendly jibes towards my friends, and they all fall flat, creating irritation and making me appear to be a first-class douche.  It's as if some invisible force field has appeared between me and the rapport I've built with my closest friends over the past decade and they no longer "get me". Trying more simply pisses them off, making me want to withdraw rather than risk creating additional faux-pas.

Then I go the other way: I stop censoring myself on blogs and status updates and just say what's on my mind without giving a shit what people think. I ignore the stronger Alpha personalities trying to get me to do things I don't feel like doing.  As grateful as I am for my family of friends, I begin to reject the group.

I know I'm in the bubble because currently, I'm very productive in my personal life - papers signed and delivered, bills paid, dust-bunnies cleaned, stories completed, weights lifted, ellipticals run.  Similarly, while accomplishing old tasks and fulfilling old habits, I'm also seeking out new experiences, the types of things that I can best do alone when the group isn't leading me.  I've held leadership positions in the past, but I've never had an overriding urge to be in charge, to tell people what they can and can't do.  But nor do I want to be told what to do by someone else, not right now, anyway. 

Finally....I'm in the bubble because, well, I just prefer being alone.  It's that simple.

And yet, not completely.

Living with a romantic partner for years gets you accustomed to having another soul around, someone who's not just a "buddy", and as much as you can adapt and actually prosper as a single, independent, and free person, there is always a residual part of you that aches for one person to be there to hold you tight, to be intimate with, and to keep you warm at night.  No amount of buddy time, whether it's spent watching a game or trying to pick up girls at a club or a bar, is going to help: when I'm in the bubble, such activities only serve to remind me of what I don't have.  No, when my universe becomes rather bubbly, I work best finding new love on my own terms.

Far from being a form of weakness, this desire and yearning for intimacy is a part of the human experience, one that I never want to lose for the temporary sake of not feeling sad. Because, ultimately, in life as in fable, even the lone wolves of the world find each other, on their own terms, when the time's right. 

The bubble universe will burst, a not-so-Big Bang that will start everything fresh, restore the connections, bring me back to civilization.  Eventually, I'll re-emerge, but not today. 

Today, I'm in the wild. 

See you next time.

Freedom in the Falling Leaves

    This summer has taught me momentary living.

    What does it mean, anyway, that standard New Agey cliche: "live in the moment"?  Depends on who's doing the living.
 
     My hunch to take a break for the past month was a good one, because writing about these things as they were happening would have deprived me of proper marination time. 

     August transformed me in ways I could never have expected in my wildest daydreams of quantum leaps.  I feel liberated, energized, and renewed.  What makes this time different from all of those temporary moments of good vibrations that come and go with the day is that something is solid here, something permanent.  I've passed a point of no return, as if a wall magically appeared behind me to keep me from falling back into some fundamental old patterns of behaviour and thought.

     Before this month, I did a lot of talking about momentary living, and not enough living momentarily.  My whole life, I've planned.  I've calculated.  I've weighed costs and benefits.  Most of all, I've hesitated to choose.  August taught me decisiveness.

    What were these events?  At least one of them isn't something I'm comfortable blogging about in public due to employment issues: I'm almost certainly aware my boss is aware of this blog, and though I doubt she reads it much, I am very much interested in staying employed until writing can sustain me.  It's self-censorship, to be sure, but at this point, financial survival is paramount.

   Nor can I just open up a new anonymous blog for my writing, for two very big reasons.

    First, I was shortlisted for this year's Arts Hamilton 2010 Creative Keyboards Short Story Contest.  As such, I am starting to gain some publicity, and need this to remain public and in my name as a homepage. 

    Next, I am nearing completion on my novel, which I've tentatively titled Convergence. Again, this will require open and public awareness that Jody Aberdeen has a web presence. 

    I will say this much: I have had 31 days of high highs, one very low low, and ever since, a synthesis, a reconciliation that I feel has been penultimate.  There is no going back now to what and who I was before.
 
   So what is momentary living?  It's the simple division of your overall plan into smaller segments.  Each day has 1,440 minutes of 60 seconds each.  Too often, we get stressed out by the overall plan when it's measured in bigger chunks: weeks, months, years, decades.  We think that we have "wasted years", we should have been "further along" than we are now; we procrastinate on larger goals with long-count timelines because we think "lots of time between now and then" and thus create our self-fulfilling prophecies of doom.  By getting addicted to a long-count plan, we often compromise ourselves and doom ourselves to failure, because everyone knows that the big plans almost never turn out the way you thought. 

   But 1,440 minutes, of which you spend an average of 420 asleep, that's more manageable, because they are easy to fill, far easier than a decade.  Unlike those longer term goals, you don't have to wait with the moments to feel how you want to feel: you can feel it now, within 60 seconds of your decision to feel it. 

   How did I come to this conclusion?  A simple, beautiful experience, one that I have no qualms talking about.

    I met someone online, nearly a month ago.  We chatted online, dated for a time, and on the third date, headed out to the Burlington Beach on the last night of the month.  At sunset, wading in the warm clear water under a cloudless blue sky, she and I kissed.  That was a beautiful moment for me, one that seemed to last far longer than the sixty or so seconds of the actual duration of the embrace. Whitley Strieber summed it up best: "all kisses are forever".

    Two days later, we stopped seeing each other, and though I was initially sad, I felt, and still feel, energized and electrified from that kiss, which was a moment truly lived. I am ready for more.

    And many of those I spoke to initially viewed the experience as one part of a larger "failure", despite their best efforts to hide it with placations.  After all, the lovely young lady in question and I are no longer dating; it didn't work out in the long run, which is the stated goal of all romantic dating.

    None of that matters, because I was able to create a moment, and that moment lasts forever.  Living the moment means not living for specific results: it means experiencing what is at the time it's happening. And though it didn't work out, the experience gifted me with something else:  I now truly *get*, from experience, that old Eastern adage that every piece of the puzzle that doesn't fit only leads you closer to the piece that does.  I am grateful for what I've learned, and will put it to practice with the next romantic experience I have. 

    August was full of such experiential moments, not just romantic, and really, all of life is like that, if you choose to see it that way.  The choice is essential.  This doesn't negate the need to have a goal: as I said, you're just using a smaller measure of time.  And I have a goal and a plan, a new one that's really helped to move me forward, like a fresh breeze pushing canvas sails.  I'll talk about that later.

    I won't comment on September as a whole, not until it's passed.  I'll say this much: I look forward to enjoying this new sense of freedom in the falling leaves and chilly breezes and the earlier sunsets.  Fall has always been special for those types of moments for me anyway.  Lonely or satisfied, joyful or anxious, I look forward to them all.

   This is the start of something new.  I can't want to see where it leads.