BEING PAGODA

She winked at me. That moment...that second in space, warmed the blood rushing through my veins. I was happy. I felt attractive. I felt desired.

I had never seen her before today. I stood above a crack in the sidewalk waiting for the light to change. I was focused, running my life through my mind like a projector on the wall. I was blindly moving forward, being herded by my fellow pedestrians into a route of no concern.

She dodged a woman with a large brimmed hat making her way hastily through the marching men. She swerved into my path, obstructing my course. I froze. She smiled. She winked as she brushed aside me on her way to a fortunate destination. I marched forward with my head titled towards the clouds.

***********************

This particular prose didn't really happen. I mean, it probably did but I didn't have a specific experience in mind while writing this. The point of this is very relevant to what I deem an oddity of being me. For a guy who pursues his passions with an extreme determination, I am typically quite content with a smile from a woman. It's usually enough. A simple interest, even for the briefest of moments, lasts weeks within my skull. Am I afraid? Am I pathetically insecure? Why so satisfied from an expression quite mysterious? Why is that enough?

THE REAL LOVE HISTORY CLUB

Is love ever real? Is love always real?

After having consumed a few too many drinks last night, I called a friend who had likewise just arrived home from the bar. At one point the conversation turned to the confusion of love. I spoke a few posts back about a guy who had attempted suicide because his wife left him to pursue another man she had been having an affair with for several years. The suicidee decided life wasn't worth living without her love, that he would never feel so strongly for another. Three months later, after a failed attempt to end his life, he has fallen madly (maybe too correct a term) and deeply in love with a woman he dated ten years ago.

I think we've probably all been in a failed relationship at some point and seriously contemplated the odds of ever finding a connection with someone as "deep" and "real" as the prior union. Only weeks, months or years later we've met someone who elicits feelings as strong, if not stronger, than what we had previously experienced. But here is where is gets a bit confusing; when we hear from the first "love" our heart STILL skips a beat. The emotions we once poured forth for the individual stirs once again. And it always will, never fading away...maybe just fading slightly due to a dusting of cobwebs. Then we experience another failed relationship and move on to another person who simply MUST be "the one" and so we have just added a further member to our "real love" history club.

Are all of these "real" loves? Does "real" love exist at all? I think we would all agree there are levels of love. Which is that powerful "real" love?

I have no doubt that the guy who attempted suicide felt as deep a love as he could for his cheating spouse. And I don't doubt that at an earlier point in his life, prior to meeting his wife, he felt just as deeply for this woman he is currently sharing a reunion with. What I do question is this - when he was in the prime love state within his marriage, was he still thinking of the previous woman as his "real" love? No, he was in a marriage with his "real" love. So then that ended. And now he's transferred that "real" love back to a place where it originally resided. And if it doesn't work out for the two this time around, he'll either attempt to kill himself for a falsely(?)-unique desire now crippled, or transfer the "real" love to the next giddy receiver.

If the emotions are so strong for someone that you would rather die than live without them by your side...and then you replicate those thunderous emotions for someone else, it MUST be love - for what other word do we have? But is it the kind of love we all seek? Is it that love where you question anyone could possibly understand? Is it special? Was it ever?

JUST DO IT! LIKE NIKE...

Work is getting less and less thrilling each day. It's a job, I'm thankful to have it, but I feel unfulfilled. When you break down exactly what I do, it seems so unimportant, so trivial. I keep trying to tell myself that life is an enormous cycle with invisible connections between every element and that my job touches people in a positive way even if it isn't blatant. But it's a stretch...and even if true in part, it isn't enough to satisfy me.

Maybe it's because I have people close to me dealing with diseases like cancer in their lives right now that it's reinforcing the idea of just how short life is. And what is it about? I need to experience more, I need to do something positive. I need to work harder towards getting to a place where I can be proud of what I'm doing for a longer period of time each day. These eight hours of employment are really cutting into my idealist desires!

STATEMENT OF PURPOSE

I received an e-mail this afternoon from a friend of mine who requested that I edit an essay she wrote to help her get into graduate school. She entitled the project, "Statement of Purpose." Basically she listed the impactful experiences that have built who she is, what she hopes to accomplish, and how graduate school is a necessity for her to achieve her goal of bettering herself as an educator.

As I read through the essay it occurred to me that everyone should have to write a Statement of Purpose for their life. To really understand why we are pointed in the direction we are heading, what we truly hope to find at the end of the path, and what we need to get there. I'm going to give it a shot. It will probably take me awhile, but, if I'm comfortable doing so, I may post it here after it has been completed. And if anyone reading this feels compelled to do so, please send me yours at postmaster@myironicfate.com and I'll post it here.

COSTLY QUESTIONS

I'm currently reading the book, "How to Change the World - Social Entrepreneurs and the Power of New Ideas." It's a fantastic book featuring amazing people dedicating their lives to extreme causes. I admire these individuals for everything they pursue and everything they are. A social entrepreneur is someone who finds a way to achieve economic gains as a means towards bringing people together to solve social issues.

The common trait of the social entrepreneurs is their selflessness. They aren't finding ways to prosper while solving social problems, they find economic platforms as a solution to "make" other people care about the social issues. The individuals leading these efforts seldom make any money themselves. I admire it. I want to be like that. But as I'm reading this book nagging questions keeps popping into the back of my mind...how do these people make money? Without a 401k how will they retire?

I wish I didn't think like that. I wish I could give up those pragmatic thoughts and just follow a passion of compassion. But I find it very difficult.

UNDERWEAR FROM THE DOLLAR STORE

I had drinks with a co-worker last night who is interested in joining the fashion industry. I can't dress. I have absolutely no taste when it comes to clothing, and maybe that's why I've always ridiculed fashion as an arrogant, pretentious club. I never understood celebrating someone for what they wore when what it was covering up was really important.

However, the girl I went out with last night may have convinced me otherwise. She spoke of the importance of fashion in making people feel good and increasing moral. She spoke of how fashion is a badge that can unite people and make them feel less alone. She was passionate about it, and I bought it. It's hard not to believe someone when they are truly passionate in their delivery.

Her pep talk didn't educate me on how to dress properly, I'll still match colors wrong and buy from Target, but I can see a different perspective on an industry I thought contributed little to society. I'm still not a pro-fashion guy, but if more people working in the industry had the same perspective and passion for the positive that my co-worker has, then I could change my opinion quite quickly.

YOU CAN DO AS I DO AS LONG AS WHAT I DO IS SLEEP

I wanted to write a post tonight about a close friend of mine who is currently struggling with the illness of her father. I wanted to share my history with this person as she is probably as close to a confidant as I've ever had. It takes a lot to get that close to me and boy, have we ever been through a lot. She certainly paid her dues.

The reason I'm writing in past tense is because I can't write what I had initially intended. I found that I don't have the words to express my pride, respect and love for this friend. I have two people in my life (this friend being one of them) where, if I was to write honestly about them it would come across fake...when in actuality it would be nothing but sincere.

So I'm not going to attempt it. The words don't do it justice. I just hope this person knows how highly I think of them, and that I can be there for her as she deals with her father's medical problems, and as she encounters new struggles along the path of her life. It's the least I can do for the simple privilege of watching her become the person she has become. Even though we didn't meet until we were in our late teens - we grew up together.

You know the saying, "you can judge a person by the company he keeps"? Well, I could never live up to that with the company of someone like her. It pains me to see her upset, but at the same time I feel confident she will survive and use this experience in as positive a way as can be. Because that's who she is. And that's just one of the remarkable things about her - she may, like all of us, let something beat her down a bit, but she will never let anything finish her off.

My faith in the possible, or impossible, is stronger because of the example she sets. If only all of us could understand the power of being an example. If each of us tried to be the best example we could be, what kind of world would we have? A world I could be proud of.

I LURRRRRVE YOU

I've spoken often about how my writing is typically overly emotional. When I look back at my journal, or even this blog, I am immediately stricken with "red face" and my embarrassment usually leads to eyebrow raises and internal scoffing...sometimes even name calling...I can be vicious internally!

I wish I could strike a compromise between my writing and my verbalizing. I often find myself with writers block of the mouth - difficulty in describing emotions. There have been times in the past when I wanted to blurt out, "I love you," but couldn't. I couldn't summon up the strength. Yet I could create a ten-page poem dedicated to the ignorant individual within minutes of arriving home.

I haven't grown up. I'm still that young child passing notes to the cute schoolgirl nearby. Or even the brat pulling on the pigtails of his crush. It's less endearing when you're 31.

I can't really explain where my fear of verbalizing my emotions comes from but I wish my writing would offer up some encouragement.

A PIECE OF STRING IN MY BALL OF TWINE

If I look at my life through a film lens I can see the stereotypes that make up the character I am today. When I sit down to write a script I start off with the main character - what would he wear? What was his childhood like? Was he an altar boy? Did his parents divorce? etc. etc. The answer to these questions are invariably stereotypes. If my character is a disillusioned, angry youth, you dress him in grunge or punk clothing. That way, the audience, consciously or subconsciously, makes assumptions and you want those assumptions to lead them to specific place.

Looking at myself as a character is interesting - I see the stereotypes that make up who I am. For instance, up until recently I've obsessed about loneliness. I've really focused a little bit too much on forcing love to me instead of waiting patiently. When I was seven years old I told my mother I needed glasses. I didn't need glasses, at least not yet. I asked for glasses because the girl I liked in my class wore glasses. I still remember that to today. That would go into the background of the character that is me.

That's just one example. I was an altar boy, my parents are still together but endured rocky times, my father was a father too early, I'm short, I was a good athlete only because I outworked people, I fought against expectations. I could go on and on. The point is, every day is an experience that assembles the person we are becoming...or the person we are to become, depending on your point of view. If we look with an open mind I think we can see why we are the way we are...which is freaky and kind of exciting at the same time.

If I thought about this every time I had a decision to make, no matter how big or how small that decision may be, I think I'd lead a better life and be a better person.

THE STEAMROLLER

I always hoped that I was a gifted enough writer to be successful with the craft one day - whether through a screenplay, book or articles. But I constantly question it.

This weekend I was thinking about the major differences between who I am now and who I was ten years ago. I've spoken about the release of my anger, the decline in tormented confusion, the comfort in my own skin etc. One thing that has also changed is my tenacity. Maybe it directly correlates to my anger. Although I still feel as though I can accomplish anything I truly desire, I don't feel the tenacity I once did. I think tenacity may be a prerequisite for success.

I'm not saying I don't have tenacity, I'm saying it isn't as strong as it once was. I wrote about it in a post a while back where I talked about missing my anger. I think that may have been wrong - I think it was the tenacity I was missing.

ALTERING A PREDICTED FUTURE

I want to express my sorrow and sympathy over today's events in Pakistan. It is especially eerie to me considering the two postings yesterday. I hope my Pakistani friends, their family and friends, are safe and well. Please drop me a comment to let me know you are okay. Additionally, if you feel like it, I would appreciate hearing your thoughts.

May I never have to learn my world geography through another event like this; the four provinces are Balochistan, Sindh, North-West Frontier, Punjab.

I DON'T KNOW THE 4 PROVINCES :-(

I LOVE what this blog has brought to my life and continues to do so. I stopped over at my friend A. Joe's blog to see what was happening in her life - she is an amazing writer with a skill for crafting her emotions in an empathetic way.

Anyhow, I saw that she had written a post about me - it wasn't flattering BUT it was true. This is the kind of discussion that I enjoy so much because I learn. I'll play devil's advocate at times and push back on ideas even if I don't really think that way (so know that) - for some reason that greatly intensifies my learning curve. Anyhow, check out her post, I left a comment. I would like to continue the conversation so anyone else, please feel free to post a comment on her blog or my blog with your thoughts on this topic. I'd love to hear what other people in other countries, or the U.S., think of this and any solutions/thoughts/ideas you might have. Here's the link:
http://blank-face.blogspot.com/2007/10/pak-sar-zameen-shad-baad.html

THE DAY THE WORLD DIED

I was watching a show on the History Channel about ancient Mayan prophecies. One such prediction was that the world would end on December 21, 2012. IF this were somehow proven to be scientifically sound, how would your life change? What would you do differently?

I wish I had a hundred readers so I could get a wide sample of responses to this question, because my first thought is that we should live every day as if we knew the world would end on December 21, 2012. However, I suppose there is the possibility that someone would have a take that proved contrary to this assumption.

So, for my few loyal bloggies, how would your life change? What would you do different?

ROME WASN'T BUILT IN A DAY - BUT IT FELL RATHER QUICK

I've been dealing with a friend of mine who just learned that her father has cancer. The doctor has given him one month to live - it's all happening so fast. Obviously she is devastated and I want nothing more than to say something that will make her feel better. Instead I've morphed into a giant ear. No mouth is necessary, I mean, what can you say?

Her father is the same age as my parents so it has created a multitude of thoughts and fears. Something my friend said referring to her father, "he will never meet my children" has really stuck with me.

I don't think we give ourselves enough credit for being the forces in life that we are. Most people can name a handful of individuals that they would want their children to meet. Those same individuals would, most likely, be named again when asked which people have had the greatest impact in shaping who you are. Or which people most closely resemble us.

And seldom do those people in our lives understand their impact on us. Somehow it slips through the cracks. We, as individuals, have a host of powers capable of increasing the quality of life for an individual and thus the world as a whole. We are using these powers every day...and we don't even know it.

If you are spiritually inclined, or even if you have just a tiny speck of confidence in a god (or many gods for all you Romans reading this), please say a prayer for my friend, her father, and her family.

SEARCHING MY SHADOW

I have always been attracted to women that were wildly different from me. There was the hippie chick, the goth girl, the wealthy socialite, the immigrant, the promiscuous trailer-park babe...actually, I've dated two of those. I guess I kind of bought into the phrase "opposites attract."

What I THINK I've come to realize is that by choosing drastically different mates I was, in fact, searching for myself. And it turns out I'm a mix of each of them. Either I had all these elements within me grasping at the matching puzzle piece...or, through my interaction with each of them, I gathered the elements to create the puzzle. I think it's a little of both.

Now, for the first time in my life, I'm looking for someone...like me. Because now I have a better understanding of what that means. Hopefully I don't end up being insanely unique!

DECONSTRUCTNG THE RECLINER

I have been searching so hard for what it is I can put my passion fully behind. I have so much passion and compassion in me that it feels ready to burst. It seems as if it's been ages that I've been hunting this elusive path unsuccessfully.

I was watching Bill Cosby promote his new book entitled, "Come on People." The book deals with the tough issues facing African American society - particularly parenting and a social support structure. Anyhow, he is so passionate about this topic that it radiates from him. You just know that each evening he lays down to sleep he feels content with his day's activities. He may not feel accomplished but certainly he's aware of the direction he treads...and it's right.

As I watched the interview I realized that I need to stop looking and start doing. I need to volunteer more, I need to really research the topics that come to mind. I'm in a situation right now where I can forge my own path. Everything seems aligned. Instead of waiting for the man with the machete I need to grab the tool myself and start hacking away.

I'M EXPECTING YOUR BABY WILL BE TALL

I'm just going to blurt this out. I know it's crazy but it's something I need to deal with and, now that I recognize it, I mine as well write about it.

I've spoken previously about how I THINK I've subconsciously plotted to destroy every romantic relationship I've had. A close friend of mine, who pointed this out to me, asked why I feel unworthy of being with someone. I've thought about that a lot because, in a way, I think she's on the right track. But it isn't so much that I feel unworthy to be with them, instead I feel so strongly for them that I feel they deserve the best the world has to offer. I can't possibly give them what I feel they are entitled to. And I don't believe this is a self-deprecating thought, I understand what I have to offer people and I'm content with it. No, it's simply about loving someone so much that I don't want to be the roadblock to the happiness and perfection I think they deserve.

Of course I know the odds of someone being in a "perfect" relationship is pretty much nil, but I hold out hope that for this special person in my life it may be possible. And I ask them to search.

LUCIFER WAS CAST OUT OF HEAVEN

I promise an uplifting post in the coming days - I'm really rather content right now...but I've been thinking of this particular topic recently and wanted to share it.

I don't know when this started exactly, but it's been a long time. I have, for lack of a more accurate word, "enjoyed" torturing myself. I wrote a post about this earlier when I referred to myself as an emotional cutter. It's as if at some point in my youth I offended god in the worst way. As if I committed a solitary crime involving all ten commandments.

For the rest of my days I've had this subconscious desire to torment myself as a tool to make amends with the Almighty over this vicious offense of which I'm ignorant of. In doing so, I gain some sort of peace within my affliction. For many years now I've been laying myself on the altar and piercing myself with a butter knife. I say butter knife because none of the wounds have been fatal. They hurt, but they continuously miss the artery. And oddly enough after the initial stab is thrust and the post-burning sensation dims, I'm left with a sort of relief...a deep sigh of the soul. I realize that a majority of these wounds are self inflicted, that my hand alone holds the dagger (er, I mean butter knife), but I'm afraid it has become an addiction. I think I need a patch to stick on my arm that will slowly distribute a pitiful pain into my blood stream until eventually I'm weened off the effects.

I like feeling sorry for myself. I like feeling like the underdog. I like feeling unworthy. I like being my own adversary.

It's crucial that I repair this habit to lead a healthier life so that I don't wake up one morning on the altar and take a look around at the surrounding mountains, trees, and sun only to realize that the warmth from the enormous star above feels better than the burning of a wound.

I know this, yet I find myself clenching the knife all too often. The good news is that it happens far less now than in the past. Baby steps.

LIVING FOR TODAY IN FEAR OF TOMORROW

I keep telling myself that if I concentrate on being the best person I can be, I can influence the world in a positive way simply by example. The problem is that I don't know that I truly believe this, and it would be somewhat less gratifying I think.

I'm constantly trying to imagine ways I can contribute to altering society into a more positive direction - whether through a business opportunity or volunteering. But I get overwhelmed by the worlds problems and it seems almost hopeless to think any one person can make such a big difference. I know I should be pleased if I can find a way to contribute towards making ONE person's life better. I think I could find solace in that...but in all honesty I want more. I want to be a part of something that influences change in a major way. I'm greedy.

There is one thought that sits in the back of my head. I try to kill it, try to keep it buried in the dark. But it surfaces from time to time, particularly when I'm focusing on finding solutions to social problems - and in the process finding a direction and purpose in my life. The thought is - does any of it matter? If I found a way to help a million people live easier lives, and then the world ended in a ball of fire, and there was nothing waiting to embrace us after our demise...would it matter? Would any of this matter?

I think I should end this post by saying that I recognize that this is a question that is unanswerable. It has no truth of which I will ever be privy too in this life, so I shouldn't use it as an excuse to keep myself from committing to something. Having said that, I still struggle with it from time to time. I think it's some sort of defense mechanism...but I'll leave that analysis to the psychologists...

THE BAPTISM

It's 9:00pm on a Tuesday evening. My roommate is at a Bruce Springsteen concert and won't be home until well after midnight. The traffic outside my window has slowed, barely a car an hour is passing by. I finished dinner and leaned back on the couch in my apartment, when it began to rain. Not a hard rain, but a constant rain. I can hear the drops playing their pitch in nature's integrated band - the leaves, the pavement, the window shutter, the air conditioning unit. I feel at peace with the tune. It puts me at ease.

I'm not sure why the rain is so comforting, but it can lull me to sleep in an instant. It's cleansing the world and tomorrow when I awake things will shine a little bit brighter.