What feels like the end of the day.

Wow. The last time I updated this, it was March 9th. So much has happened since then.

I lost my job and got cheated out of a lot of money at a time that could not have been any worse. I was finally feeling an upswing from the miserable winter, when all of this came to a head.

I faced having to leave Chicago, the home I've built for myself, to move back in with one of my parents. I spent three weeks furiously searching for new employment, which is definitely hard to do when you're unemployed.

I took a lot of handouts from a lot of friends, and even more from my family. If it weren't for my loved ones, I doubt I'd be here today. That may sound petty, but it's the truth. A person can only take so many kicks to the ribs, head and heart before vital organs stop responding.

All of these things have had me in such a horrible place, that other things from deep down have been coming up and wreaking their havoc as well. Things that I am normally able to deal with, but haven't had the strength lately to do so.

Luckily, very luckily, I just got a dream job, working with a design company just a mile or two away. Salary, benefits, standard work week, no dress code.. and it's a career builder. It's exactly what I need to get myself back on track after these five horrible months, and I'm very excited.

I guess listing things out like this really sort of robs them of their impact. 2008 has been awful. It's my sincere hope that this new job is the beginning of a quick turnaround. I'm looking forward to summer so much.

What bothers me most is that I was in such a good place—emotionally, spiritually, financially, holistically—until this year. I feel robbed of that. But I am very anxious to get it all back.

Hopefully I will be able to write more again. I want to get back into poetry. After all of this, I expect a big release. A purge of sorts.

Janufeb takes its toll.

I know I have not written anything here in awhile. These months are hard on me, and they seem to get worse every year. Janufeb is about as much fun as solitary confinement, from what I can imagine.

I've been really sad and hopeless lately, without going into it. I hope warm weather will change that.

That's all.

Fences.

Why is it that we raise so many fences around us to keep love out of our lives? I'm not just talking about love in the romantic way, though that's necessarily a part of it, but more in the general sense of the warmth you feel for another person when you know them intimately (again, not just in the sexual way).

A few months ago I made a conscious decision to take down the fences I had been putting up for a long time. I made myself and my love available to everybody. Or at least I hope I have. I hope I've not made a single person reading this, or those who can't, feel as though I wanted to deprive them of that.

More recently, and this time I am talking about the romantic or sexual kind of love, I made a conscious decision to welcome the opportunity to love another person more deeply than most others. In the land of sunshine and blue skies, you'd think the flood gates would open and all of this love would come rushing at me. Obviously that's not the case! I'm not that good-looking. But I have to say that I am surprised by the amount of solitude I see in other people. The various ways a lot of people have of sheltering themselves from others. I'm sure a lot of this has to do with vulnerability and the degree to which we're all comfortable with it. But man, it seems so contagious and epidemic.

Do people look you in the eye as they pass you on the street? Do you look at them? Or do you avert your gaze? Do you smile when you notice somebody noticing you, or do you look down, showing them your stoic side? Do you invite the interest of other people, or do you do you invite it only on your terms, for your needs?

I'm not saying we should all go around making as many loving connections as possible in the sexual/romantic sense, because certainly that's not healthy either.

But I do think what is symptomatic of one kind of love is also symptomatic of all the other kinds. Fewer meaningful romantic relationships lead to fewer meaningful relationships of any kind. The more we push one kind of love out, the more we push it all out. If we, as an American society (this problem is more a local one than a global one, from what I've seen), cannot be comfortable in intimacy of one kind, we dull our ability to be comfortable with other kinds of it.

And really, what kind of lasting satisfaction can you get from being that boy or that girl who attracts attention from others, only to ultimately shun it? If you have that ability, if you are graced with that kind of charisma through your appearance, your outlook, your thoughts, your activities, or whatever else, what good is it if you give it a deviant name and live your life trying to avoid it, unless you directly benefit from it? You can't benefit from it until you open yourself to others.

Maybe I just wish I lived in a world where people were more receptive. Where social anxieties weren't as prevalent. Where the well of prejudices and pre-assumptions wasn't as deep and plentiful. Where you didn't worry so much over first impressions, because you see the impermanence of them. I don't really think that's a utopian vision, but maybe it is.

Stay warm.

So far January has fallen in line with the tradition of being the year's asshole. People just get less social, there is less to do, there is more time to spend at home thinking about everything I spent all last spring, summer and fall keeping out of the foreground of my mind. Loneliness, inadequacy, how difficult it is for me to make new friends, the meaning of my work, the reality of my debt, what it is I'm actually trying to do with this life, the fact that I'm a year older and that much further removed from my youth.

I'm sure something fruitful will come. It almost always does. I hope it doesn't take the rest of the winter for me to start feeling good again. I like having joy in my life. Who doesn't? Some of us are less adept at keeping it there, though. I don't think I do a very good job of holding precious things and people for their true worth. At least not as often as I should, which is all of the time.

Right now I know that I do not have the capacity to see the unwholesome seeds that are growing in me. I see them when they flower, but I do not see them when I sow them. In spite of the strong healthy relationships I have with people I love now, I feel lonely and incapable of drawing the love out of others. In spite of all of the wholesome seeds blooming in my garden, my attention dwells on the unwholesome ones. I don't know why I feel that way. I hope to reach clarity on that soon.

This weekend has been particularly difficult. It's funny how one thing can open up your eyes to a new horizon of suffering. That is probably for the best, though. I cannot be happy if I am ignoring suffering.

On processes.

Every once in awhile I am genuinely confronted by somebody else's outrage or frustration. Whether it's their audacity, their short-sightedness, their flagrant lack of concern for others, or whatever else siezes my attention because it deviates so profoundly from my own. I scramble for the words to type a comment, voice an objection. To do anything within my practical means to pass almighty judgment, if for no other reason than my own peace of mind.

It's an easy reaction. To condescend, to evaluate, to scold, to "teach." To clearly establish yourself and your place above the other person in that moment. "Why are you so angry? Can't you see you're being ridiculous? Can't you see you're overreacting?" The truth, and the very simple truth, is that no, in that moment, they can't. And neither can you, if you find yourself asking those questions.

One of the most valuable things I've taken away from life is that we live in a world of processes. We navigate through it according to processes. We identify it through processes. We accept it or reject it with processes. Who is to say that someone else's process of getting through whatever is so wrong?

You might be expecting me to disclaim something like "Well obviously I'm not talking about drug addicts or racists or homophobes or anybody else whose processes harm themselves and others."

I emphatically do not disclaim that. Those people need the most compassion, the most understanding, the most genuine concern from other people, which is not to say that we should tolerate and abide their behavior, but that we should be actively looking for ways to seriously help them. They are after all on the fringe.

But let's not get off track. My point is that if we all have our own processes, doesn't it behoove us to step back from them in times when we use them to weaken our relationships with others, rather than strengthen them? It certainly does, and I am trying hard to step back.

When I see someone wrought with grief striking out at others, my instinct and my reaction is to go on the defensive. Which of course means trying to get her to see how ridiculous she's acting. What does that accomplish? It compounds feelings of grief with either feelings of further inadequacy or, probably more likely, feelings of serious anger and violence. What mindfulness does, what awareness does, what compassion does is allow me to see the process at work, and not the product. Better for me, better for my friend!

How much more central an understanding we can gain by seeing the bigger picture, by stepping back and removing ourselves from instinct and knee-jerk reactions. It's out of this central understanding that things like empathy and a genuine, heart-wrenching desire to help and heal are borne. I think we can all agree that the world needs more of both.

[Cross-posted from myspace.]

Russian dining.

After ordering a humble oatmeal, toast and coffee at Boris' Cafe, I did not want to crowd the family diner, in spite of several empty tables and booths. So, I paid my $8.50 and left. Walking around the suburban downtown of Winnetka, IL, I passed a closed antique shop proudly displaying in their front window a poster, which detailed the many reasons to shop locally and support local economy. Not having sated my caffeine fix, I walked into Panera Bread to have a soy mocha. It cost me $4.50 (more than half my bill at Boris'), tastes way too refined, and is tugging at my conscience. The next time I am offered corporate familiarity over neighborhood comfort, I will resist, humbled.

The greater mind.

Some days are better than others. Some weather is warmer. Some skies are brighter.

We have this to look forward to, always. What a wonderful mechanism of our brains, the ability to compare one thing to another and assign it a varying degree of worth. Wonderful things stem from this relative value system. Take for instance peace, love, happiness, fullness, compassion. But what raises their real, "tangible" worth? What makes them good: when the other is bad. War, hate, sadness, emptiness, greed.

Without one thing, there is no other thing. Without love, there is no hate. Without war, there is no peace. Without freedom, there is no oppression.

The basic point is this truth, that every part of us we try so hard to eliminate is necessarily there. There is no getting out all the fat, or giving up the craving, or letting go of the pain.

So, then, what? We should stop caring about the things we can't change?

No, we should not stop caring about those things. But what we should be mindful to do is place less energy on the things themselves and more on the awareness that we cannot change some of them. This enables us to look at something objectively, to take in all perspectives, to understand it wholly. It enables us to make better decisions.

We are addicted to something, here—value judgments, as quick and simple as we can find them. Answers to questions we don't want to have to ask. This is a principle, known or unknown, on which something like marketing has such control and influence over us. Simply acknowledging it is a principle on which we can break down that control. The greater mind is free. It is empty. It knows that it knows not much at all. It clearly sees how much more room it has to grow.

The greater mind is a wonderful thing. We are already in it, we're already there. We just have to wake up and see.

Nanowrimo!

Sometimes, when I least expect it, usually after a difficult period of time, I am reminded that life is impermanent, that it exists here and now, and that I am lucky to be who I am with all that I have. It takes no religious experience, no Hallmark card, no armchair revelation to bring me into it. Fortunately, I have people in my life who do that for me. My family, my friends, the people I see every day who are going through the same things and different things and who make more out of life with less than what I have. I feel connected to these people on a very fundamental level: we are all here, we are all essentially the same, we depend on one another, and we define one another. It's hard to worry about the daily toils and frustrations with that in mind. Mindfulness, friends. A full mind is an empty one.

November is National Novel Writing Month. I feel that I should be doing creative things with this energy, even if they aren't very good or amazing. By the end of November I hope to have at least a few short stories finished. I want to create something, to give something meaning and substance out of my direct experience with the world. I think that means, at least for right now, writing.

A shift of perspective.

I have felt very clear and well-balanced the last few days. Reading this book has contributed to that, I think. Not everything is as it should be right now. I still don't have a job, and I'm going to have to borrow money in order to pay my rent this month. On the other hand, everything is exactly how it is and could be. Things happen as they may, and the world of circumstances aligned into the current state of everything in my life is what I have in front of me.

The latest thing on my mind lately that keeps creeping up on me regularly is a feeling I'm not comfortable with. For the past few years, at least the past two, I've been cynically closed to any sort of committed, emotional relationship. I had many reasons for that that aren't worth detailing anymore, but the fact must be stated in order to understand what I am feeling most lately. I think I've reached a point in my development as an adult at which I could be comfortable in a relationship. I'm not talking about dating a few times and spending every waking minute with one another as a validation of feelings. I'm talking about a stable, healthy, interdependent relationship between two people. One that is completely dependent on mutual effort by two people to stay alive and well. One in which sharing, understanding and respect form the basis.

The difference is that I no longer hold such a relationship as an unattainable ideal. I think it is attainable. Uncommon, but not impossible. Whereas I had up until recently not been willing to invest myself in anything more than physical relationships, I think I could be comfortable investing enough of myself into a relationship of a higher kind in order to actually take a shot at it.

By no means am I about to go bar hopping in search of "the right person." I don't think there is any such thing as the right person. That is the superhuman ideal, really. Real relationships occur between real people. There is nobody predestined to complete me or be my perfect companion. Realizing this has helped me decide to become more open to chances. To be willing to share love and respect and the awe of life.

I'm ok with this. Actually I feel much more peaceful about the whole thing.

Oh, but once we were the Music Lovers!

Let me honestly say these past few days have been enjoyable. I have a week and a half off of work, and I've found it's exactly what I've needed. I feel more at peace.

It's led me to the conclusion that free time is worth substantially more to me than any other form of compensation. I associate it with freedom. Money can only afford so much until obtaining it deprives a person of the opportunity to enjoy oneself. 40, 50, 60 hour work weeks... talk about depressing.

In my free time since going on vacation I've spent a lot of time with friends, taken walks in the woods, been able to enjoy the sun shining through the trees while sitting on my balcony, actually slept a healthy amount.

The weather has helped, too. It's been wonderful every day.

Today is Father's Day. I am going to dinner with my dad.

A change.

Matt's manager thinks I'm cute. Apparently she thinks I'm really cute. That's definitely an ego booster. The last date I went on was in January, and I think that had more to do with a friend's recommendation than it did genuine interest, which speaks of my, well, low self confidence lately. So Matt's manager thinking I'm worth mentioning more than once is reassuring.

His manager has a smoke and whiskey voice, is a vegan (despite owning a mink vest [read: lame, lame, lame]), dresses like a hipster on account of working at American Apparel, and is engaged. In other words, she's not your typical 19 year old college girl.

But then, a revelation!

Why am I worried about attracting 19 year old college girls? My brother is almost 18, so 19 year old college girls could have graduated high school with him, or have been close enough to it to have hung out with him. That's unsettling. I'm 22. Girls my age are more defined, more mature, and yes, sometimes engaged.

I've since come to terms with the fact that the tan, plastic-y girls buying makeup at the MAC counter aren't going to turn their heads when I walk by. They're not going to nudge their friends, nor will they ask the lady behind the counter, Who was that?

No matter, though. If I can attract a pretty cute, vegan (if misguided) 20-something hipster, even after she's engaged, then the outlook's not so dim.

I still got it!, some might say. And of course some might not, but I probably wouldn't risk an STD on them anyway.

Bombshell today.

I'm still sorting out how I feel.

I never really thought it was possible to feel excited, happy, and devastated at the same time.

</3

Quick turnaround.

I am fed the fuck up. Sick of feeling like a constant bum out. Sick of February, sick of people who can't decide to stay in or out of my life. Sick of worrying about it.

It stops now. I am sooo done and over it. Why? Because in six months I'm moving to a new city with new people and a new job. I'm about to pay off a huge amount of credit card debt with money I didn't have to borrow. My throat feels like shit, but jesus christ I can eat again! I'm cutting off my hair tomorrow.

This weekend is going to be a blast.

Snow be damned—

—walking back from the coffee shop, listening to Vetiver, and watching the snow shimmer through the resplendent glow of street lamps and headlights as it fell around me is perhaps the most solidifying moment I've had in the past several weeks.

Though I despise this cold weather and all its overcast gloom, it certainly has its moments.

For a good fifteen minutes, though my face may have felt differently, I was in love.

Nectar of the gods.

Hot chocolate is a cure-all. It warms my soul and makes my kitchen smell great.

If only it could turn the boiler back on so that it would be warmer than 60°.

A kind of new direction, but not really.

I've for the longest time been planning on making this blog a place not to post daily happenings and things of that sort, hoping instead to fill it with meaningful insight that would help me grow and see how I've grown.

In truth, though, this insight comes from everyday happenings, since this is how I most easily understand the world. And, it turns out, the seldom-simple effort of consciously extracting the wisdom from the filler produces overthoughts* that really don't help in any sort of way until I relate them back to things I experience day to day anyway.

Also, it's pretty obvious that I've been mostly writing about my days, regardless of any intentions otherwise.

*I made this word up, but hey, it's the English language. That's how we roll.

The new year.

Life lately seems to be sort of taciturn—a time for reflection I suppose? It's now officially January, and historically that has been January's purpose, I've found.

So now to reflect, but what to reflect on? I think there is way too much than can be appropriately summarized here, but I digress.

I am excited for the beginning of a new year, of a new breath for a tired world. I am disgusted by what continues to happen in Iraq and the Middle East, in Sudan, in India, in China, along the border barrier between the US and Mexico. I am hopeful for a better, stronger, more progressive Congress. I am frustrated with school and the plans I am supposed to have for life, and I am anxious to be through with at least one of them.

I am grateful for the people in my life and the places I've been. I look forward to where I will soon go next and the people waiting for me there. I am sad for my mother and her soon-to-be empty house, though I am thoroughly excited for my brother and sister and their plans.

I want to begin writing again. I want to keep up my reading. I want to feel like the money police are not coming to drag me away kicking and screaming (but that's wishful thinking!). I want to love and be loved. I want to forget some things and some days and some people, but in the end I am glad to remember them for the things they've taught me about myself.

And in the case of things that didn't teach me a damn thing? Well, fuck it.

Potential is such a pivotal word.

I need something new. For the first time in probably the last four years, I feel as though I can't see what's immediately ahead of me. My degree is something I'm not interested in anymore. Talking with my dad last night, he asked me if my shortcomings in one of my classes now were due to a lack of time or lack of interest. I was surprised to hear him ask me if it was a lack of interest, because that's exactly what it is. I have the potential to do well and plow through what's in front of me in order to get to the next thing.

So what happens when there is no next thing?

I'm finding out. I know that I don't want a career in business. I hate the business world; I hate what it stands for; I hate how guilty I feel working for America's department store; I hate bowing to the wishes of angry customers and realizing at the end of it all that it's all just squabbling over dollars and cents that would be far better spent on people who actually need the help, and not your daddy's Christmas present. So where do I go from here?

Half of me wants to gut it out, finish, and be done with it. The other half wants to fail this class, get the fuck out of this program, and go do something else. But what? What benefit will a business degree do me when I don't use it to go into business? What benefit will starting over, adding another $25k of debt, and taking another shot in the dark do me?

I think I just need to concentrate on more positive things. I've been listening to a lot of John Lennon lately.

The chicken begetting the egg.

I have dropped one of my classes this semester, because it's finally occurred to me that I've run out of steam. I sat down to take the online exam, not having purchased any books, and realized that I was going to fail it. I had no clue what half the questions were about, though I had sat there for every class (save two or three) soaking up what she was lecturing about. I picked up the phone, dialed the registrar, and dropped the class.

I'll still graduate this semester, just not with my concentration (which to be honest, doesn't make a bit of difference in the practical world). Well, no, I won't graduate. My classes will be complete, but I can't pay off my back tuition in time. I can't really pay it off at all.. not in just a month or two anyway.

Lately it's become a realization that this is not what I want to do with my life. Management? There is a reason managers are overstressed and workaholics. That's pretty much the opposite of what I want out of my life. The more I think about it, the more I see there is nothing. Sounds bleak, but it's alright. I don't view work in terms of a career. I view it as a utility. I work so that I can live how I want to. That's really all I need out of a job.. a means to get by. I don't need to work my way up somebody's ladder and feel locked into an organization. Moving to Chicago is going to be very cathartic for me.

I wish I had the credentials to join the Peace Corps like my friend Jessica. I would love to take a couple of years out of my life to go help people who genuinely need it, not people who are paying for it.

I want to go out and learn from the world by experiencing it. I feel as though I know enough about American society.

No shame in it.

I need to get laid. Good, ol' fashioned rock-the-bed-half-way-across-the-room laid.

Well then.

You win some and you lose some.

So it goes in this adult world of ours.

It's important to recognize that, as important as it is to recognize that it's never entirely your loss. If people don't know you, or don't know you well enough, that's all it is.

Lesson of the evening: save face and defend yourself against another's misperceptions of your actions only so far as to acknowledge the misperception and apologize for any part you had in it. And if that's not enough? Just give it up; it's not worth it.

School, work? Fuck em.

It has finally hit me, my unbridled disgust toward school, and it's only taken a month. This means trouble.

I don't know if it's having been in school for four and a half years, or simply that I've had enough credits to graduate for the past two semesters, yet not the right ones to get a degree.

I just don't have the drive I used to have. All I want is to be through with it. Thinking that in two months I'll have a BBA in management does absolutely nothing for me. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, career-wise. I have a good idea of the type of life I want to live; my career plays no part in it other than providing me a means to get by. Truth be told, I hate working in retail. I feel like a hypocrite, working to serve a corporation that ultimately gets rich off of selling commodities to people at a ridiculous markup. I hate that our store manager makes six digits toward that end. I look at a company like Whole Foods, who has far superior ethics, and whose employees start off at $10 an hour, doing basic things. I make $11 an hour, and I'm a goddamn supervisor. I'm not saying Whole Foods is without flaws, but they're doing a hell of a lot more than Macy's.

All in all, I don't know. Lately my faith lies in tea houses, green breweries, and life in Ann Arbor. The rest is background noise.

I hate today.

It's true.

I've lived on a dirt road all my life.

Sometimes things just don't work out the way you'd want them to. I think there is a certain amount of grace in accepting that and moving forward. Sometimes you set things up for yourself that probably won't carry through how you'd hoped. Optimism? It could be. And then sometimes you just read people the wrong way. You learn from this!

Day 2 of the work week of nightmares. 8 more to go.

Should we go outside?

What a beautiful morning. It is absolutely sunny and clear and new. My cats are wrestling, and my stomach is full of oatmeal and blueberries.

And nothing beats chai in the morning <3

Finally we are no one.

I seem to be lacking motivation to do much of anything lately. I skipped three out of four morning classes this week, simply because I didn't have the energy to get out of bed. I just slept. This is me in winter. Hooray?

I wish I had something interesting to write about. Alas, I am wanting. Last weekend I buried my grandfather, and that was not a good time. This week I have no energy or motivation to do anything. Next week will probably be no different.

Samuel Alito is going to be nominated to the Supreme Court, and I have one less reason to love this country. I've sent a letter to the editor to about 12 different newspapers, local, regional, and national. I've called and written Congress. I fucking hate that I still feel helpless.

In other news, I love the Global Bazaar.