Regrets

I try not to have them. I know that each mistake I've made has led me to where I am, so I don't spend a lot of time thinking about the whatifs and ifonlys (ifonlies?) of what might have been. Going to a different school or taking a different job or moving to a different town at any point would have changed the journey that I've been on to find myself. Maybe some roads could have been easier, but would I still be the person I am today if I hadn't totally messed up a bajillion times?

But there are things I regret that remind me that I'm still growing as a person. My biggest regret is the way I lose contact with people. We all do it, right? That friend in high school who goes to another college. Time passes, phone numbers get lost, addresses get misplaces, people move... and after a while you decide, 'hey, if we've not talked in a few months, what's a couple more?' Eventually, it's been so long, you start to think, 'hey, maybe we're not actually friends anymore.' It's not because you liked them any less or grew angry. It's because you just didn't take the time, and part of you resented the fact that they didn't take the time, either.

I regret that I did this with one of my friends. I've been thinking a lot about them lately, and now that we've not spoken in six years, I can't find the courage to give them a call. Kind of sad, isn't it? Do you have a friend like that? A person who pops into your head when you glance at the phone and make excuses to yourself, calling them 'reasons' not to call?

Questions We Ask Ourselves

We all spend a bit of time on this sort of thing, don't we? We ask why we persist in doing something so difficult with little or no reward. We ask ourselves what we want out of life, our entertainment, our employment, our friends and families. Do we really know what we want? Maybe some of you do. Or maybe, like me, some of you think you know the whats and whys, but have trouble with the hows and whens. Some of you more unfortunate ones that are exactly like me change your mind constantly and are easily distracted by anything remotely distract-worthy.

I would like to officially blame Simon C. Larter for Tweeting about Cracked.com on January 15th. I cannot drag myself away from the place. When I was a kid, I collected Cracked magazine. I'd spent the last couple of decades certain the mag went tits up, and was thrilled to find it reinvented online. I've read through pretty much every article they've posted since 2006 in the last several weeks, and participate in contests and volunteer to write articles now. They've yet to accept my work. Oh, those familiar feelings...

Which leads us to rejection. Not just of our work, but of us as individuals. I don't handle it well. I don't mind when people don't 'get' my writing. I understand it's a bit left of left field. But since being strongarmed into joining Facebook, I've been able to rekindle those feelings of high school rejection. Mostly because of those I knew 20 years ago in high school. All in all, I've joined Twitter (not posted since January), Facebook (posted once, commented twice), and have accounts at other places on the spiderwebs, and I am sure of only one thing in my life: I totally suck at this social media thing.

I think it's the lingering fear that it's sort of an eternal Miranda Rights. EVERYTHING YOU SAY OR DO WILL BE HELD AGAINST YOU UNTIL THE END OF TIME. Feels pretty permanent, doesn't it? Sort of like commitment. I kinda fail at commitment, too. Perhaps this is the problem. Or, more likely, I'm musing to the world instead of keeping it in my head where it belongs, and as with all conversations with myself, I don't actually have a point.

It is with a mixed bag of bravery to beat my own drum and certainty I definitely come across unprofessional that I will post this. Believe it or not, I'm giggling.

P.S. Speaking of giggling; Lenny my man, you're the sweetest kid under the sun.

Settling for Mediocrity

The conundrum we all face, those of us who strive for more, is that we cannot settle on having a mediocre life. I, like many adults that have managed to move out of my parents' house on sheer determination to not be That Guy(Gal) who lives in their basement until I'm thirty, work at a job that I hate. It's not just any job, or some boring run-of-the-mill job that I should be thankful for having in our struggling economy. It's a job that has driven many-a-coworker over the edge. Countless times have I heard of coworkers being out on leave for mental reasons, scores more (including myself) are medicated just to keep from throwing up with anxiety in the morning before reporting for work.

So why not quit, one might ask. Money. That's the only reason, and boy do I feel shameful for admitting it, but there you have it. Bills to pay, economy is unstable, unemployment is up, and I've got people who depend on me. I like to daydream that once the kids are grown, I can quit it all and just go hitching my way across Europe. The problem with that dream, however, is that I'm afraid of heights AND the ocean, so how I'm getting there is still a bit of a mystery. Maybe by then, there'll be a supertunnel that goes under the ocean. That way, my feet won't leave the ground.

In the meantime, I've spent the last five years writing. I've written millions of words, all stored away for few to read since I'm certain it's all crap. Purely, one hundred percent, utter, and complete crap. But still... there's that voice that urges me on, telling me to take a chance and risk seeing if I'm being my own worst critic. So, against the odds, I'm out in the void: looking for an agent that doesn't delete my email as soon as they read it.

Go me.

The Power of Words

It's funny how you can be so sure of something for a very long time, as if nothing in the world would convince you that things could be other than thus...then a simple gesture - or a simple word - can completely undermine everything that you believed.

I believed, for example, that words had power. Words are how we communicate, after all. How can one possibly know what another is thinking without having an exchange of words? Yes, actions and body language...they, too, have their own speech. Yet those resources are lacking in accuracy and it is unwise to rely on those alone.

It seems this belief was wrong on many levels. The absence of words is just as powerful as too many of the them. Also, using the right words or the wrong ones is detrimental to communication. Deception, omission, avoidance, hesitation...these all hinder communication - hinder the power of words.

As it turns out, words have no power. The true power, it seems, is our ability to believe them. I may say that I admire your hat, but it is your ability to believe me that promotes communication. If you believe me to be lying, then we have accomplished nothing. You may say that you are my friend, but then actions - that I interpret through the inaccurate resource that they are- tell me that it is you that had lied to me. So, as important as I always thought words to be, it seems that the true power is in three simple concepts that are easily intertwined; belief, trust, and faith. Do we believe the other person? Do we trust the other person? Do we have faith in them? Words are meaningless without these conditions.

Or at least they are when they are spoken in a personal context. The written word that has no desire to speak to you personally, but merely expresses a thought, an opinion, or an idea...that has power. They are there for your interpretation, to have as much power over you as you are willing to let them have.