I’m back in good ‘ol northwest Ohio where I grew up for a few days of rest and relaxation. I’m blessed enough to get a bunch of time off from my daily designing duties at work. But all alliterations aside, I’m nonetheless mildly comforted by the dreary winter days of my childhood.

We were out last night at a pool hall, and it hit me just how much time changes, yet things stay the same. You know, I’m the type that anguishes endlessly over whether or not friends that I used to hold dear, now living far away, will merely move on. But last night, over beer and billiards, with stale smoke hanging all over us, I’ve realized that generally speaking, things stay the same. Sure I guess statistically someone could have told me that before, but it’s my inner pessimist that always causes me to doubt even my closest friends.

As the snow lazily drifts to the ground here, not everything is blanketing and covered in my life. I’ve come to realize just how much I miss some of my friends from high school. Seeing them, not even passing words, reawakens in me the spirit, the naivite, the innocence of my high school years…and reminds me just how much i loved that time of my life. I’ve finally come to realize just how desperately I long for good, solid relationships with good, honest people.

So, as the immature part of me stomps around and pouts for not having these people directly surrounding me for more than a few select days a year, perhaps I’ll finally learn to appreciate the time that I do have with them. I doubt I’ll ever *stop* missing them, and in fact I hope that I never do.

Merry Christmas and happy holidays all. May you all be surrounded by loved ones that you hold dear to your collective hearts.

So I went to a dinner party last night, at a co-workers house. True, ‘tis yet another point in my life that i feel overtly ‘adult,’ but that’s not the point here.

I had a wonderful time, socializing with the select few from my office that were invited (ooh, so clique-ish!) was easy and natural. Nothing seemed forced on anyone’s part and all seemed to genuinely enjoy spending the evening together. The food was great. The wine kept flowing. All were happy. Except when the topics of politics was dropped.

Now, I do love a healthy, intelligent political debate among a few friends that I can trust. I think it brings out an interesting and often hidden part of people. But as I was duped into first thinking last night, things do not always work out so well when not among trusted company.

To be fair, not much *actual* politics were discussed, but more, uh “PC” issues were their focus. Now, bear in mind that I do not think that I am necissarily the best sample of the male gender in terms of being a perfect cross-section of my demographic. But regardless, it is amazing to me the point in which a conversation stops being intelligent and remains emotional and petty.

A heated argument over gender equality arose and the people at the table reverted to heathens discussing a very important and worthwhile topic. It really was quite a shame. If civil tones had been used and people had stopped ‘shooting from the hip’ emotionally, perhaps some progress would have been made towards understanding the others’ point of view. But no.

Why is it that we go from children, who’s argument style is both simplistic and purely selfish to adult’s that argue in a vindictive and overly-complicated fashion. Most people last night were just out to prove how *right* they were and how *wrong* the other party was. Now, at least where I come from, that’s not a healthy discussion.

The other amazing part of it is that you really can pinpoint the exact moment in a conversation where people reach the line between reason and emotion. One minute they’re discussing with calm logic the said topic, a brief pause, followed by blinding emotional grandiose statements…sweeping in generalities and serving no purpose other than to “clear the battlefield” of discussion with their dramatic delivery.

I left a bit early. Most thought it was because I was younger, naive or whatever they normally think in such “big people work situations.” Really, I just couldn’t stand the juvenile approach to such a worthy topic.

Maybe it was the wine, but bruised egos were definitely apparent by night’s close. Oh well. This is adulthood, right?

Take a step back. Remove yourself from the emotionally-invested view of your life. See the timeline of your life and think of it in the context of a movie script. Now hold it here and think about this: Can you partially, fully or even just somewhat see where you’re life is going next? Not necissarily limited to career goals…do you *feel* like you have an emotional grasp on what could come next? If you’re like me, you do. And you feel prepared for it.

Now the thing is, I was pondering how most of us are probably this way. I personally think that in 5-10 years i’ll still be in design, perhaps working on another degree, married and God-willing own my own house. At this moment in time, I can comfortably say that I can *feel-out* what the next few years will be like.

But what if you threw a child in there? Every comfortable notion I have of stability, everything that I know today would change. Drastically. Having a child rewrites your entire future. The second that you know you’re going to be a parent, you might as well kiss goodbye any idea of “knowing what the future will hold.” To me this is concurrently breathtaking and terrifying.

Now, rest assured that I’m not expecting any children soon (damn, let me work on the marriage part first, ok? sheesh.), but this concept is something i’ve never thought of before. I mean, I’ve always wanted children. In fact, the only sure thing i’ve ever had in my life is the knowledge that I want to be a father. I can’t wait to be a father. But thinking of it in this light scares the bejeebus out of me. The entire script of my personal movie would be rewritten, because the x-fact of a child rearranges so many other variables. What an incredible idea.

Call it trite, but reading Lionel Shriver’s book has me deep in thought…

Ok. While i’m on the road for the weekend, please know that if the off-center elements on this page grate at your every nerve, causing you to spin into an emotional maelstrom, dry-heaving in the corner like they do to me…rest assured i’ll fix them.

Just don’t look at the screen. (unless you’re trying to induce nausea)

There must be something seriously wrong with me. Neurologically wrong or something. I’ve come to the slow, painful realization that I enjoy taking standardized tests. Yes, I’m aware. I should throw my head aside, hiding my face in crippling shame. But seriously…

It’s not some sadistic form of torture, at least not that I know of. I was editing some copy for a GRE/MCAT/PCAT, etc section of a website today and I actually longed, physically had a craving to take one of these tests. I would be lying if the actual thought that accompanied this pang of nostalgia wasn’t, “I should take the GRE just for fun.”

Dear Lord, what is wrong with me?

Perhaps it’s my obsession with diagnosing myself (what’s the term for that, hyperagnosia?) that leads me to love and crave bubbles and Scantron tests. I desire to know how I fit into the system, how I measure up…but not against other people, but against the faceless, nameless masses. It’s like I feel like I’m being measured against the big brain in the sky. Like somehow filling in little circles for four consecutive hours will unlock my entire code of personality and being (as soon as I get the results back in 6-8 weeks). I must be seriously deranged.

In all fairness, I could do without all of the preliminary “fill in your name, address, blah blah blah.” That stuff bores me. Just get me to the good stuff. Hell, even the terms “verbal, quantitative and analytical” get me rather worked up. I need help.

My freshman year in high school I tried out for the soccer team. Among all other other nervous, terrified and falsely cocky pubescent males was one in particular. Nothing impressive in stature, muscle build or even adeptness. All around a middle-of-the-pack player, he blended in beautifully with the other hodge-podge of boys.

As the fall wore on, summer gracefully slipped away and with it went first year jitters. Class schedules and locker combinations became routine, as did daily afternoon threats of hazing from the junior varsity and varsity members. Bonds formed. Alliances were created. Personalities slowly began to creep out of their hiding places among the shadows of false pretenses and attitude. The season of change truly was afoot.

As the soccer season wore down the afternoons became crisper. Soon, with the days of wedgies behind us, we felt like champions. We felt as if we had survived the first grueling stage of adulthood: freshman year. We eagerly waited, trying to ride out the semester as November slipped into December.

The ninth of December. One morning which seemed so painfully normal it was eery. As 18 boys rose from their beds, all in their respective homes in their respective suburbs…we were all approached by our parents. In darkness, in awkward silence, in shock and in awe we were dealt the news that one of our teammates had been killed on his way home from school the afternoon prior.

A tractor-trailer, and icy road and a busy intersection. Three boys, two were killed. There was nothing spectacular about the accident. Nothing overly dramatic or even out of the ordinary. Everything about the wreck was so painfully routine that it even failed to make the evening news.

But come Monday morning, our worlds collapsed. We had to face one another, our questions shimmering in our glassy eyes. Our mortality had been tested. Our comradery had been shaken. And all of a sudden, the painfully normal person that we had lost no longer seemed so unremarkable.

Time wore on and the heartache reluctantly faded. We saw that things were different. Sure, thoughts of him sitting next to us in first period theology class became fuzzier upon recollection, but the strength of the message grew louder in our ears as the years past. Graduation even brought a subtle-yet-classy remembrance of our lost friend.

It’s been nine years since he left us. It feels like not a day past Sunday that it happened. I’d give anything to have him back, to know what the world would have been like if he was still around. Do I feel like I barely even know him since we only had four months together? Sure. But do I feel like those warm summer afternoons that the 19 of us shared were more than strength conditioning and tactical drills? Hell yes.

I will never forget what event in my life caused me to leave behind, arms outstretched, the comfortable days of youth. Catapulted into the blistering numbness of adulthood, borrowed-jersey on my back, things have never been the same since. But the only thing I regret is failing to see my friend as nothing but an ordinary player.

Have you ever come across, or been in the middle of a time where you’ve stopped and thought, “Hmm…you know what, perhaps this is what it means to be a grown up?” In my ever-present denial of my own adulthood status, these occurances happen perhaps more frequently than others. But nonetheless I think i’m able to garner from them at least a minor token of wisdom.

Tonight I got an email from someone close to me about something that is really hurtful to me. I want to be maniacly upset. I want to be ravingly pissed and vindictive. I want to scream about my bruised pride and overlooked feelings, yadda yadda from snowy mountaintops (hell, mildly rotund hills would suffice, to be honest). But yet there is some part of me, some overarching adult “check loop” that is not usually there, saving me from my childish inclinations.

Yea, yea i know. Cue the parade and fanfare because I’m learning to act like an adult, right? Well, it feels like a big deal to me that instead of really holding this tragic infarction of a friendship against this other person, I’m just gonna shrug it off. No, not completely…I did let this person know (in a calm fashion i’ll have you know) that I was hurt but that i’m not upset and that it doesn’t change anything between us. This is incredible! Seriously though…when this all happened it was like waiting for an expected response from myself…and when it didn’t come it was as if i was viewing myself from the outside and saying “what? that’s it? no drama? no fireworks!?!” Quite confusing, but a nice, subtle reminder that time does move on, and I can grow to be an adult in small baby steps from time to time.

So while I learn to work on my fear of confrontation at restaurants (“no, i swear everything’s ok…this is *exactly* what i ordered ”) and other public situations, at least i’ve conqured this molehill.

The Art of Picking Battles…was anyone else privy to this ancient technique practiced by the wise elders of our civilization? Damn, I missed out again…

There really are but a few moments in life that hit you with such clarity, such candor and open and brutal honesty that they leave you emotionally breathless. They are views from the proverbial 10,000 feet; emotionally distanced, seeing through the smoke, seeing the man behind the curtain for who he really is.

Again, as I tend to speak in pointless metaphors, there really is a point here. I’ve been privelaged to meet several people in my life that are the perfect, walking articulation of social duplicity. I mean, we all play our parts. Growing up there is not one of us that is at some point not forced to go with the flow, run with the crowd, vote with the majority or be among the numbers. Some of us take it in stride and don’t question it. Others rebel purely on the notion of not wanting to ‘sell out’ and follow the herd. But there really are the few that straddle both sides of the line. While I know a few wonderful individuals who do this with excellent and polished precision…it is the few that struggle with this dichotamy that i find painfully alluring.

Have you ever met someone that was one of the socially elect, yet at the same time trying to swear off that title like a bad addiction? To me, knowing several people like this, I am constantly rendered speechless at the psychological complexity that this involves. For example, a guy who’s studying to be a lawyer, who’s exceptionally attractive and who gets along with almost everyone he meets. His friends are all beautiful, and he only dates beautiful people. But at the same time, he’s down to earth, kind of a homebody and naturally shy. There’s a nagging pain in his conscience, this haunting ghost of reality that daily reminds him of his dual social existence. He continues on the path of The Chosen, yet yearns for the life of the Nobody.

To me, the unraveling of such people is concurrently the most painful and most beautiful experience to witness. Perhaps it’s cliched to compare it to a metamorphosis of sorts, but it’s true. The social decompression that takes place within a person’s ego when they elect to stop running with the popular crowd in order to realize their real inner being is mind bending. The process is so tragic, so poetic and yet so sad.

I pray that you all are able to become friends with someone at some point in your life that opens your eyes to such things. While it’s not a freakshow-attraction type thing, it really is an incredible and awe-inspiring experience that gently reminds us of the fragility of the human spirit as well as the brute power of social nurturing.

You know i’m gonna have to really learn to polish this crap up or else i’ll even stop reading this damned site…

You know, it amazes me when people pretend to be one thing and then act as another. Bear with me - i’ll try and be less vague than that.

People who claim to be open-minded, yet really are slanted, bitter individuals with nothing but ingorance to spread; People who claim to be intelligent/faithful/etc but the second that any emotion creeps into their lives elsewhere, it goes out the door. I guess it could loosely be considered the “fair-weather friend” of human reason.

See, i’m not saying that people are dumb, ignorant or faithless by saying this…i’m just saying that if you claim to be scholarly in a pursuit, but as soon as you’re having a bad day for other reasons you close the door on that scholarly pursuit — what is that all about?

Why can’t people learn that intellect, faith and ego all exist in a seperate realm from emotion? It’s not that they don’t coexist or even mix at times — but we should be aware of when more than 1 thing is present. Case in point:

Student A gets an assignment that seems really interesting and they are actually excited to research it. They are bound to write the best paper ever and dive right into the books. They attack the project head-on, with fervor and zeal — eager to learn and grow.

But the next day Student A has a bad day. They missed the bus, got yelled at in gym class and forgot their lunch. When it comes time to working on their paper, they feel sorry for themselves. They now hate the paper, the assignment and think it’s stupid. They half-ass the research and hand the final paper in without even so much as a double-checking of the grammar.

Now what happened to the first day’s intentions? Were they not true and valid? No, I’d argue that they were…and that that was a prime example of Student A’s real demeanor. Yet Student A let emotion (pity, pride, self-loathing, etc) get in the way of something true, something they really wanted: to learn and to grow.

All in all, it pains me to see people who want to be philosophical/mature/faithful/etc … yet cannot see when emotion has crept in and polluted certain true motives.

So am I preaching the Gospel of Emotionless Living? Hell no. I’m speaking of awareness of where our decisions come from - are they out of logic, reason, emotion or a mix…and what out of those 3 have a right to be there to make the best, most lucid decision possible. In the above example, Student A would probably agree that they should not have let their bad day/emotion get in the way of something that they were really looking forward to AND was going to be a great experience.

Arg. End of rant. Why can’t we all just see which motivation is fueling us at all times? God this was one of the most poorly written string of words in the history of modern language.

I stand before the web community and those around the world as a pitiful excuse for a human being — I got rid of my custom site for one of the default blogs on moveabletype.org.

Now, though I do resolve to one day finish my site, I’ll use this cookie-cutter bland-ass template like a poser. A reluctant, head-hanging-in-shame poser.

…

i’m sorry.