The Extremes

Insanity seems to be the normal around us now. Talking heads on TV bombard us with hideously insane comments; coworkers and friends inundate us with insane ideas; and family members burry us with insane requests for our time. There is so much irrational and insane thought circulating the globe that I’ve come to realize that we are no longer a carbon-based life form, but rather an illogical mythical creature within someone else’s demented imagination that is completely dependent on bullshit and insanity.

Why do we do it? And by “we” I really mean me; it just hurts less to apply mistakes to a global “we” as if my failings are representative of all men, or spouses, or all mammals.

Why do I make such spectacular mistakes? I’m talking about the type of mistakes that when you make them, entire ecosystems are destroyed. If only it were possible for my net worth to be calculated based on my errors, I’d be lunching with the likes of Warren Buffet.

Turns out the “why” is quite easy. It is just part of who I am and how I am. I can choose to look at only my failings, but if I look at my successes as well, those too are spectacular. When I succeed it is like warm apple pie with vanilla bean ice cream. So it is a postulate: I live in the extremes. Whether is it a success or a failure, everyone will respond with some form of “shit, that was unreal!”

We’re a society comprised of double standards and unrealistic expectations. Everyone should have certain items unconditionally, but we lash out if they don’t work to earn those things. We claim to want everyone to be better at things like life, finances, parenting, health and so forth. But we build whole businesses that are based on people continuing to fail at these things.

Is that fair? Is that the insanity that we’ve plateaued at?

That I’ve come to accept this now, at this point in my life – halfway between here and there – I’m aware that I have a thorny choice to make. I can either take the path that acknowledges this insanity, or I can choose to ignore it and reset my concept of “normal” within the current societal condition.

Or are those my only choices?

Well, for now I’ve chosen to wrap this insanity around me. It’s quite becoming I think. I can wear it as a scarf or headband; it’s really quite versatile.

Some people attempt to explain what this life is all about; what the hell we are all supposed to do with our time here. The truth is that there probably isn’t really any reason or point to our existence outside of whatever we want to get out of it. Some of us want to leave a lasting mark; kids to continue our family name. Some just want to fuck, get high and have a good party. Others just fumble around doing stuff of not much substance.

I’ll stick with my extremes. There are times when I get those blues, wondering why things are the way they are; why there is no money in my wallet, or hand in my hand at that moment. There will always be those times when I need that hug or kiss, and I just don’t get it… and that is the extreme for only a moment.

Life balances.

A moment later I’ve got my beautiful wife and giggling boys showering me with more love and laughter than any one person deserves… I can survive the downs for those awesome ups.

Real Freedom

So today we celebrate our independence. It’s comical (if by comical I mean terribly tragic) that most of the people in the United States don’t have any idea what today is about. It really is not about the rights in the Constitution… not that most would even associate it with that. The Constitution was adopted on September 17, 1787 and went into effect on March 4, 1789.

See, none of that has to do with the 4^th of July.

Independence day, July 4, 1776, was the day when we declared to dissolve “our political bands” with England. For all of the flowery, elegant and prophetic language throughout the Declaration of Independence, I’ve always been most fond of that simple phrase…

“…to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…”

Whenever I go to vote I feel like I am exercising my own declaration of independence, dissolving the political bands I had if I wasn’t pleased with my representatives.

Real freedom. It’s bound to mean something different to everyone. From marriage equality to the right to bear arms (again, something that is not part of the Declaration of Independence), many of us perceive our deserved freedoms differently.

Transcendentalists in the first third of the 19^th century (e.g., Thoreau, Emerson, etc.), rejected organized religion and political parties as infringements on their freedoms. They felt that people were basically good, and that community was truly formed when people represented themselves; when people stood for what they believed.

I did a report on Henry David Thoreau when I was in middle school… and it all made sense to me.

People ask me what my political affiliation is and I respond quickly with “yes.” I don’t like political parties much. If asked to elaborate, I vote based on one issue… social justice, which makes me align with the Democratic Party now. But even writing that sentence makes me flinch a little. Because I hate being put into a box; because I don’t fit into a box.

Real freedom is being able to agree with part of a platform and disagreeing with another part.

Real freedom is Nelson Mandela fighting for an entire people to be heard.

Real freedom is focusing on the type of life that I want to live instead of telling other people how to live.

Real freedom, above all else, is fighting so that everyone has the right to live the life that they want to live. To have those “certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Love who you want. Marry whom you want. Live how you want. Be who you want.

And exercise your Declaration of Independence often; sever the political bands that exist, where those bands no longer serve you. Exercise them from your polling places, from your soap boxes, from your television remotes, and from wherever else you can.

Happy 4^th of July

The Space Between

Yes, that’s the name of a song by Dave Matthews Band. It’s stuck in my head, so naturally it became my morning prompt. However, it is the title that my mind locked onto instead of the meaning of the lyrics of this particular song.

When I scroll through my newsfeed on Facebook, or stop to reflect on the things that hold my network of friends together (both in cyberspace and in real life), I am amazed at how we maintain our friendships. The space between where I am and where many of my friends are is littered with an astonishing number of obstacles and differences.

Someone could build a road to the moon and back (at least) if it were constructed of these differences. Political views, religious beliefs, life priorities, the list is extensive. But what is clear is that there are these huge voids; these areas where there is no possibility that we will ever see eye-to-eye on these specific issues.

And right there I could end the relationship with any of these friends and say “we have little in common, so farewell.” The more you look for the differences, the more there appear to be… they multiply and divide and expand and… well, they are overwhelming.

The space between… we could try and build our relationships on the space between, but then we’d probably end up with very few friends. Or we’d end up with a bunch of friends that we’d be pretty bored with. And a lot of the world is doing that right now, building relationships only with people who hold the same views on a specific topic. I see it in political circles and religious circles; the divisive stance that much of society has adopted, which has lead to the current state of depressing obstructionism by both the left and right, the religious and non-religious, the educated and uneducated, the poor and the rich, and so on.

But I’ve chosen to live above that space between. I live in that area where I spend more time building on the things I can find in common… we can always have a conversation (respectful) about those things in the space between, but you can’t live there and be happy. Fortunately I have a diverse group of friends who have also seemed to adopt the idea of finding common threads.

Sure, I have some breaking points… there will always be issues that I can’t look past. There are people that I no longer talk to or connect with because they spew hate and refuse to be respectful of opposing views.

So I’ll venture into the space between from time to time to see if we can’t build a bridge on something else, but those trips will be less frequent than living in the space above.

Anticipation

It's hard to really concentrate on any writing this morning. You see, I am a bit of a political nerd. While I have a good idea of how SCOTUS will rule today on DOMA and the Hollingsworth v. Perry Case (California's proposition 8), I still get excited about the process... even when I don't always like the outcome.

I think the Hollingsworth case will be dismissed as improvidently granted and that Section 3 on the DOMA case will be struck down based on Equal Protection... not bold predictions since I've seen that from numerous friends.

But I ramble. The only words that come to mind for me today are from Will Rogers:

"We will never have true civilization until we have learned to recognize the rights of others."

Have a peaceful day.

First Days

First days have always been something that have filled me with emotions. My first day attending a school, first day at a new job, and my first day as a husband were all things that filled me with excitement, nervous energy, fear and joy. And today is the first day that the Supreme Court could rule on DOMA and the California’s Proposition 8… that fills me with a lot of emotion as well (e.g., hope, fear, excitement for social change, etc.). I could easily write more on that – like everyone else in cyberspace is doing today – but I think not.

Today is the first that my youngest attends a real day camp; a camp that is not run by a preschool. He’s a kindergartner now and he will finally get to go on all the field trips and adventures that his older brother has been telling him about. His excitement last night was amazing. I listened as he detailed – with the remaining baby-talk-like voice he still has – all of the adventures that he can’t wait for.

And while I saw my little “E” filled with excitement and anticipation, I also saw that glimmer of fear. He looks to be just slightly afraid of the new unknown things he is going to encounter. Sure, his brother has survived them, and I know that he will be okay, but a five-year-old cannot use that type of rationalization.

I began to try and address that fear with “E”, but just as I started to tell him that it was okay to be a little afraid and that at least he knew his counselors well, I stopped short. I don’t want him to not be afraid. No, the best part of all of the firsts that I experienced was the how the fear ended up amplifying how the joy felt when I survived the experience. To know extreme happiness I had to experience some severe fear

So now, in some sort of twisted way, I’m enjoying his fear. He’s more excited than anything else… I’m not cruel. I told him how excited I am to hear about his first day, and that I know he’ll have a great time. And with a hug and a kiss I’ll try not to worry about him too much. Although I am keeping my phone in my breast pocket just in case.

Be Very Different?

There’s this huge chunk of my core that craves only to be a writer. To spend every waking moment in front of a computer or typewriter and caress the keys in such a way that they sing out these wonderful, prophetic thoughts. But I can’t seem to ignore the other, smaller, part of my core that screams at the top of its lungs “haven’t you read the self-indulgent crap all over the Internet; writers are full of crap.”

Of course, there is another obstacle that prevents me from being a writer full-time; I have these amazing kids and an incredible wife. They need me; I’m the only one who makes an income… I can’t say “work” because I don’t work nearly as hard as my wife does. And writing what I want to write everyday certainly wouldn’t pay the bills that need to be paid today. But I do write everyday. I write marketing copy for the company I work for in between writing proposals to clients and prospects, outlining how we will save them money and solve their problems. The writing I get to do is challenging, but it’s not even in the same ballpark as the type of writing that could ever be satisfying to one’s soul.

And then there are the over-commitments. Whether it be a non-profit organization that needs a grant written to obtain funding for some righteous cause, or a group focused on a social issue that needs messaging crafted that will inspire donations and actions, I can’t turn away.

So, sprinkled between the obligations I have to my family, and the over-commitments I make to other people, I find these little fifteen-minute blocks to write what I want. Sometimes I’m lucky and I’ll find two or three blocks in a day. But more likely, I go a week or two without being able to carve out any time.

So what does this have to do with being very different? I have no clue… it just seemed like a phrase that described the world today. The writers that all try to be something else; the politicians that claim they are something new; the companies that say they are the new paradigm. And don’t think it’s lost on me… you know what I mean. How can you be “very” different? An unnecessary adjective wedged into a place where it doesn’t add any value. A word that, at first glance, adds value but upon further reflection is only a thinly veiled way to increase the word count of a copy.

And since I’ve written anonymously (and under multiple nom de plumes) for the past twenty years, I just decided it was time to write under my own name, with my own thoughts, showing what I can do in little fifteen-minute blocks. There’s no deep meaning here; no overall message that I want to impart on the world. Just a chance to type what I want for a brief moment, whenever I find the time.

Feel free to critique or comment… or ignore. And most importantly, don’t forget to…

- Kevin

Tired of Being Anonymous... I Think

There are multiple blogs here in cyberspace that I contribute to everyday. Not a single one of those ties to my name in any way. I spent years building up a network of fake names, profiles, and e-mail addresses so that I could separate my personal life from my work persona. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

So we all know that I am not really anonymous. What, with all the tracking the CIA, FBI and NSA do constantly, someone somewhere knows exactly what blogs I contribute to, and exactly who I am. None of that really surprises me, nor does it really upset me. I just wish they would tell me exactly who I am; I've been trying to figure that out for quite some time now.

But I'm missing my point. I think I'm tired of being anonymous; tired of keeping my worlds apart. At least I think I'm tired. And why now? Because I no longer want to explain why I'm not conservative or liberal; why I'm not... well, why I am not something that fits in a box.

The internet has pushed us all into boxes... in case you haven't noticed. The 24-hour news cycle and the constant yelling that is all designed to polarize us.

But this post is nothing of real interest. It is simply a quick free write this morning, and the jumping off point of a new blog that is still in search of an identity. And I shall ramble on some more later.