Advice to an 18-Year Old
You’re fresh out of high school and having a good time yourself seeing all your friends, before you go your separate ways into the world. My last summer with my friends was fun and tough at the same time – I did my best to hang out with guys I always wanted to know and took girls out I always wanted to date because the way we’d heard it from our other older friends, as soon as everyone started getting jobs and going to college, you change.
We talked to your parents about you a little bit (just wait, you’ll catch yourself doing the same thing before you know it – there’s really truth in “the older you get, the faster the years go by”). They love you and are concerned about you – I know at your age, I thought my parents were always trying to ruin my life by embarrassing me in front of my friends (here I was 18 years old, about to go out on my own and they were like, “If you need money for the movies, why don’t you get a job?” and I was like, “If I have a job, I won’t have time to go to the movies!” I thought they were so stupid because they couldn’t see things my way; just because they were old and boring and out of touch didn’t mean they could stop me from seeing my friends for the last time). It’s weird to see you going through some of the same stuff me and my friends did. It’s weird because it means I’m part of the crowd of people who kids think are old, boring and out of touch. It’s true I’m not 18 anymore so I have no clue about the latest music, fashion, etc., that defines who you are.
At the same time, I went through some of the stuff you did. For instance, you got caught skinny-dipping at a young age; I got caught getting drunk at a young age. I was all the time getting in trouble with my parents, just like you. I know you’re not going to see it differently until you’re a lot older but I’m going to say it anyway: It’s better to have parents, friends and family who care about you than the other way around. Like last night when your mom told you to be home before 2, she sounded like she was treating you like a little kid. However, try to see it from my perspective – most of the stupid stuff I did happened when it was very late at night or I was too drunk to remember. It took me several years – from age 18 to age 23 – before I realized maybe I should listen to the advice of some of my family (my parents weren’t the only ones who cared) and my real friends (my so-called “friends” who just wanted to party weren’t really my friends).
I hope you have the time of your life for the rest of the summer, despite your parents coming down on you. Keep in mind that even though you live in your parents’ place, you are a grownup, an adult, an old lady, etc., ‘cause you have graduated from high school. Sure, your parents are going to keep helping you out when they can. They can’t help it. They still think of you as their little girl (and always will, even when they’re in their 70s and you’re over 40). What matters is that when this summer is over, you don’t have to let your parents think of you as a kid anymore. You’re going to act like the 18-year old adult that you are. You are going to look at yourself in the mirror everyday for the rest of your life and see a woman. She is your only true friend. Be kind to her and she’ll be kind to you.
Have a good time this summer but take a moment to be an adult who likes to look ahead, too. Up to now, your parents and the school system have planned your life for you. That ain’t gonna happen anymore because…well, you can just let stuff happen to you which can feel like life is taking care of you but that’s not being a friend to the woman in the mirror. Instead of letting everyone and everything else lead you down the road of life, take a few minutes (say like just after you’ve waded through all the crap in this letter :)). Don’t waste a lot of time asking yourself questions like “Who am I?” or “What’s my purpose in life?” or “Why does nobody understand me?” If you want sympathy, look in the mirror! No, when you take a few minutes, get an empty pad of paper and a couple of pens, markers, pencils, crayons – whatever you like to write with (use a mouse and a computer, if you like). Whatever you use, just make sure it’s something that will last a long time. Then, write down all the things you want to do, no matter how insignificant, things you just have to do before your life on this planet is over. For me, at your age it was stuff like see certain bands in concert (The Clash, The Police, the Sex Pistols), get away from my parents, own a car that required no gas, date/kiss some girls I liked but hadn’t gone out with yet, and travel the world.
Next, write down stuff that you have to do, again including insignificant stuff, even things like brush your teeth, take a shower, buy new clothes, eat meals, go to school, breathe air, pay for your own car, etc.
Now, think about the last five years of your life in relation to the two lists you made. How many things on your “want to do” list were there five years ago? How many things on your “have to do” list were there five years ago? If you live a fulfilling life the next five years, you should be doing all the stuff on your “have to do” list to be able to help you finish or get started on your “want to do” list.
Anyway, think about who you are today, an 18-year old woman, and who you’ll be, a 23-year old woman. Before you know it that 23-year old woman will be looking at you in the mirror. How do you want to remember the last five years when you’re 23? At 18, the last five years have been defined largely by your parents. At 23, the last five years will have been defined by you.
The summer’s almost over but that doesn’t mean you have to stop having fun. What it means is that you’re a little bit older, you’ve got a few more memories and most of you friends have gone their separate ways. You’re gonna make new friends, you’re going to have more good times and life will go on.
I’ll leave you with these last thoughts. Every now and then, I ask myself what day it is out loud. “Today is Friday, August 1st, 2003,” I say. I remember the day, my age (I’m 41years old) and what I’m doing (in this case, writing a letter to an 18-year old stranger Ii see every few years when I visit her parents). I try to remember the last time I asked myself what day it is and what I was doing (in this case, I had just finished watching “The Hulk” and I was driving out of the movie theater parking lot). If I can’t be happy with who I’ve been between the two dates, then I realize I’ve gotta be nicer to me an not just let life treat me however it wants to – I go back to my mental lists of “want to do” and “have to do”. I see what “’have to do” things I haven’t done which have prevented me from doing the things on my “want to do” list and then do them.
As my wise uncle told me when I was your age, “You’re on your own now, kiddo. It’s time to let your parents go. You can’t blame them for your life anymore.”
I hope the next time I get together with your parents, I get to hear that Amanda is doing a great job taking care of Amanda, no matter what she (you) is doing.
In closing, I don’t know what your religious beliefs are but if you feel alone, the best thing is to quietly pray. Pray first for those around you who are in greater need and then pray for yourself. You’d be amazed at the power of prayer (you don’t have to go to church or belong to an official religious group to pray. In fact, you don’t have to believe in God, Jesus, Buddha or Mohammed, if you don’t want to). Just realize you’re not alone – there are others who need your prayers, and vice versa.
— 19 August 2003
How are you? & what is going on in your world these days?
Thanks for asking how I’m doing. There is much that I would like to say in response to your question but the older I’ve gotten, the less I think that what I say matters (and the more I keep the “pity parties” I throw for myself to myself), because I just tend to repeat myself. Right now, I am contemplating what I thought as a child — my dreams, desires, observations — and deciding how much I need to satisfy the dreams and desires of the child within. One of the main thoughts/dreams I had as a child was wanting to be a hermit and dig ditches for a living. As the world passes me by, I wonder if fulfilling that dream would be worthwhile. Yes, it’s a form of escape (just like my life-ending thoughts) but I don’t know what else to do with myself other than watch movies/television or read magazines/books. Another dream I had was to be known as a writer. The more I’ve written, the more I’m convinced I have the talent but not the drive to keep my writing before the public. Another dream I had was to own a greenhouse. Well, I’m finally fulfilling that dream with a sunroom. I’ve also fulfilled the dream of owning a motorcycle and an Italian sports car.
Toward the end of March, I was home sick one day and looked out the back window to see what looked like two mother deer walking through the woods with four baby deer. I was so amazed that I did not think to pick up a video camera until the deer has passed by. I thought about the video camera because I realized that I may never see something like that in my backyard again and the deer would probably be dead in the fall (deer hunting season). A few minutes later, I opened the door and one of those large brown, flying roaches flew into the house. I killed the roach without hesitation. I then contemplated my actions. Why did I feel remorse for the potential death of the deer by unknown human hunters at some future date but myself killed an insect (another living being) in an instant with no remorse? Why do I value six deer, which have a greater potential for damage to humans through crop destruction and are good candidates for the creatures that ate all the trillium in the woods, more than one roach which accidentally flew into my house? Why did I keep that information to myself until you asked how I’m doing? Hmmmm….more about that later.
My father and I are planning to go to Ohio (the Mid-Ohio race track) next week to help celebrate the 50th anniversary of a car company, Triumph. Dad had a Triumph TR3 when I was a kid and inspired me to get the Alfa Romeo Spiders I had a few years ago.
My sister and I are planning to go to Cullman, Alabama, on 22 June to skydive, a first for both of us. We’re tandem diving; that is, each of us will be strapped to a certified sky diver. We’re also getting the event videotaped.
As usual, I have more to say to you, maybe not as much as I used to or would like to think I have to say. I’ve thought about you and wondered how you’re handling your life (or how it’s handling you?). I wonder if your independence must be great, how traveling all the time probably opens your eyes to the good side of the diversity of humans, as opposed to the depressing side of humans depicted in the news. I’ve come to the conclusion that like my diary/journal, you’re the one person to whom I can send these words without a worry in the world — I used to worry but what for? Well, I always find it easier to “speak” through written words rather than speaking in person and I used to worry that something I wrote would be taken the wrong way and you would want to meet me to discuss what I wrote (part of the age-old male ego thing that forces a guy to think that just because a woman pays attention to him she must be interested in him on a permanent basis). I know you better than that.
Another age-related event occurred the other day — my nephew graduated from high school a couple of weeks ago.
Life marches on. I’m a middle-aged man now, for what it’s worth. If I’m not careful, my life will be over before I decide if I want to live.
Where has life put you now?
— 6 June 2002
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I have let my life be explained away
“I have let my life be explained away.” On the way home last night, I was hit by that thought. I was driving down the road, imagining a conversation with you about why I am where I am instead of someplace else. I took a mental inventory of the types of person I thought I might have become (writer, adventurer, tourist, executive) instead of who I am. I then realized that I have given into the self-perceived notions of what I expect others think I should be. I no longer know who I am except through others. I have become what I disliked in my parents — worrying about what others think of me. For example, when I think about what I would do if I was single again, I think, “Well, that would upset Janeil, my parents, my niece and nephew and I want everyone around me to be as least miserable as possible so I better not think about that therefore I will never be a single person again but I don’t want to be a married person anymore so the only way to not know if I have upset anyone is to end my life but I have never truly ended my life before because I believe that this collection of cells known as me has too strong of a will to survive but a true will to survive entails producing offspring to ensure the immortality of these cells but I’m not having children with Janeil and I’m getting older so that will to survive thing must really be a piece of crap so I could really end my life or become single again” and the cycle continues.
In the meantime, people say they hardly recognize me anymore because of my gray hair so I am getting older despite my indecision about who I’ll be which is pretty funny because when I was younger I never made the connection between what I would be like when I grow up and what being old would be like. Not that I’m old, of course.
So, at age 40, I’ve come to realize that I will never be Superman, God, Bill Gates, Abbey Hoffman, Joseph Conrad, H.P Lovecraft, James Bond, Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey, Johnny Cash, Jello Biafra, Maya Angelou, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Frederick Exley or F. Scott Fitzgerald. I am still just me, a person who has let the temptation of an easy life beat him down. Some days, I can’t live with myself (and wouldn’t if I had a choice), disgusted at the person I have not become. I used to magnify that disgust by imagining people out there who could destroy me by thinking about me with the same disgust (these people are the so-called “they” whom we often refer to when we want to add a sense of authority to a subject as in, “Well, you know what they say…”). I remember a cartoon character named Captain Marvel who had a sort of committee of superhero peers that represent his various personality traits. In the same way, I carry a group of people in my head who represent certain ideals. Some of these people are from my life — a friend’s mother, a Boy Scout leader, etc. Some of these people are societal icons (see the list above). Others are fictional (same list). In any case, as I’ve told you before, you are in this group. You represent the person with a non-mainstream eye (always finding unique books to read, movies to watch, places to visit). When I was young, I thought if I didn’t live in a cabin by myself, then the ideal life would be a college professor who lived in a smalltown cottage with his female college professor companion (or conversely, be a not very smart person living in a cottage with his housewife). That way, I would work nine months of the year and travel the other three months, with or without my companion. I envy you because you found a job in which you work and travel twelve months of the year. It’s also like you’ve raised the standard of that ideal life I imagined. Of course, the life you live is not ideal, I know that (you don’t get to see your dogs, for one). Sitting in airports during layovers is not the most exciting thing to do in life.
— 11 June 2002
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What is a Church Lifestyle?
13 December 2001
Letter to Choir Director,
I have always appreciated the warmth and hospitality – the family environment – of the folks in the choir. Whenever my wife and I go to Covenant, it’s like seeing relatives again at Christmas. And you’ve been kind enough to say you’re still saving my choir robe for me so writing this letter doesn’t make sense in some ways but I’m here nonetheless.
I thought that after I finished my bachelor’s degree (21 years later) that I could get back into the habit of attending Covenant regularly and rejoin the choir. However, that does not seem to be the case.
I have thought about the reasons I could give for not attending church regularly and most of them would fall into the category of excuses: not enough time, too tired, etc. The fact is that my wife and I are not traveling like we used to, I have finished school and am back to pretty normal working hours (<50 hours/week) so there is nothing physically that prevents me from getting in my car and joining other Presbyterians on Drake Avenue for fellowship.
What keeps me from going, then? Well, I guess it boils down to my not feeling comfortable around people whose goals are truly centered on the goodness of humanity.
It’s like the time that the minister’s wife commented to me that she could hear my voice in the choir on Sundays. I realized then that I was standing out too much, that people were actually noticing me as a member of the choir. Or the time that an elder asked me to consider being a deacon. I realized then I was required to be a participating member of the church but I did not want be a person that others looked up to or came to for advice. In other words, it dawned on me that I went to church to entertain and be entertained.
After concluding that church was a form of entertainment to me, I decided it was best that I not let myself be an influence on those at Covenant who might have my same inclination. I have since turned to forms of entertainment that make me more comfortable, mainly college football and professional racing.
Does any of this make sense to you? I don’t know. You have worked hard to ensure that the church is a central part of your family’s life.
I will close this letter by saying that you have done a wonderful job as choir director and I wish you all the best in the future. There is no reason to save a choir robe for me anymore.
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9 July 2003
Letter to Choir Member and Wife,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. The two of you have always been a welcome sight for us when we see you, whether at Covenant Presbyterian or in passing at a restaurant. From the moment we met you, you treated us like a member of your family and we’ve always appreciated that.
In fact, it’s the very feeling of being part of your family that makes it tough for me when I see you two and know that you haven’t seen us in church lately. It’s like being invited to Christmas dinner by your parents, not showing up and then trying to explain why you don’t have a legitimate excuse for your absence. We really don’t have a legitimate excuse for not going to church on Sunday.
It used to be that we were so exhausted from our travels that if we happened to be in town on Sunday, we decided to sleep in instead of going to church. Certainly, while I was going to school (and finishing my bachelor’s degree, not master’s degree, I abashedly admit), I was unable to show up for choir practice on Wednesday night but it was no excuse for missing choir practice on Sunday morning.
I really don’t know what to say about our absence. I guess that part of the problem, for me at least (I won’t speak for Janeil), is that as a middle-aged adult I don’t feel comfortable being a role model for the younger members of our church. Janeil and I decided not to have children, which gives us the ability to do things that are not logical to children, such as enjoying a weekend going to a college football game more than enjoying a weekend church retreat – on a moment’s notice, we can put on our funny orange outfits, jump in the car, drive four hours to Knoxville, enjoy wine and cheese in the parking lot, join the crowd in the stadium yelling and screaming at the players on the field, and then drive home. We can be as nice, mean or ornery as we want, without worrying about offending people’s sense of decency because they realize we are being rabid college football fans. It’s hard for me to be that person and then try to be a nice, loving, cordial person in the crowd at church on Sunday morning for young people to see and look up to.
I thought the problem might be the type of service we attended. I thought, “If I like yelling in a crowd at a football stadium, maybe I could find a place to yell in a crowd at church”. Certainly my singing in the choir was the equivalent to singing the football fight song in the stadium but it got to the point where I realized people in the congregation were actually looking at and up to me as part of the official church, so I decided I would not sing in the choir anymore after I realized I did not want to be a role model. We tried attending the “Maranatha in the morning” service but it was too informal for us – we felt like we were back at summer church camp, singing around a fire. We even attended services at other churches but found that we like our “family” at Covenant the best. Besides, there’s nothing like the traditional Sunday service of a Presbyterian church. I grew up with it and will always think it is the best type of Sunday worship service.
Anyway, I just thought I’d drop you a line and let you know why you haven’t seen us at church lately. You probably don’t think about us very often but if you do, please remember to pray for Janeil because her mother is getting older and although she’s in good health at 85 years of age, I know her death will be very hard on Janeil.
I hope that your son has found a viable vocation. I know his decision to leave the church in Lenoir City was very tough.
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Why is Zelda Interesting?
B,
“In The Bedroom” was interesting. First of all, I can’t remember the last time so many people walked out of a movie. I don’t know their reasons for leaving but they could have left from boredom, being offended…who knows. For me, the movie was all too familiar – long passages of time during which both members of a marriage spend their energy on non-marriage activities and not communicating with other. Then, when an event occurs that forces the couple to spend “quality time” with each other, all the years of things left unsaid are expressed in a matter of a few emotion-filled moments. I saw it in the relationship between my grandmother and her husband, my father and mother, my sister and her husband, and my wife and me. I suppose these tense moments are part of what life is made of.
R
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Brenda,
Me again. Recently, I have been lost in a world of “what’s next?” because I am now a grown-up – I have a bachelor’s degree and I see a middle-aged person in the mirror with distinct [earned!] laugh-lines. Now that I know a person I respect very much has decided to join the world of the gay divorcee, I can look at the possibilities of what can be next by looking at what you (you as in Brenda, not a generic you) are doing or not doing. As a somewhat self-motivator, I thought I would do some virtual self-searching.
For fun, I searched the Internet for “what the future will bring”. Here are the titles/subtitles of some Web sites I found:
WHAT’S TRUE – AND WHAT’S NOT – ABOUT THE INTERNET?
THE INTERNET
IS IT STILL IMPORTANT TO GET BIG FAST?
SCALABILITY, NETWORK EFFECTS, AND CATASTROPHIC SUCCESS
LEADERSHIP AND THE MANAGEMENT OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS
THINK GLOBALLY, EXECUTE LOCALLY
THE GOOD – AND BAD – NEWS ABOUT STRONG CORPORATE VALUE SYSTEMS
WHAT DOES THE FUTURE LOOK LIKE?
WHAT THE FUTURE WILL BRING
WHERE THE WIRED THINGS ARE: INFORMATION FORMATS
ISSUES IN GLOBAL EDUCATION – NEWSLETTER OF THE AMERICAN FORUM FOR GLOBAL EDUCATION
THE NEXT COMPUTER INTERFACE
GELERNTER: THE DESKTOP NEEDS TO BE REIMAGINED
LEXTROPICON
EXTROPIAN PRINCIPLES 3.0
INTRODUCTION
PERPETUAL PROGRESS
SELF-TRANSFORMATION
PRACTICAL OPTIMISM
INTELLIGENT TECHNOLOGY
OPEN SOCIETY
SELF-DIRECTION
RATIONAL THINKING
CONCLUSION
FURTHER INFORMATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
COPYRIGHT POLICY
SHOP EXTROPY
THE ISLAMIC CONCEPT OF SIN.
AGINGHELP.COM
Self-Motivation: The Struggle with the Inner Guard Dogs
THE BEGINNING OF EVERY YEAR IS A FEAST FOR THE WEAKER SELF
TRICKS AND TACTICS BECOME MORE AND MORE REFINED
1) The fairy tale of impossibility
2) Just once won’t hurt
3) Sudden distraction
NO READY REMEDIES
THE INNER GUARD DOG’S POSITIVE SIDE
WORKING WITH PICTURES
DON’T FORGET THE FUN FACTOR
WHAT YOU CAN DO: HOW TO GET FROM HURT TO HOPE
THE RULES WE LIVE BY
MONEY TIPS FOR TRYING TIMES
1) RECALLING DEATH IN THE SENSE THAT WE DO NOT REMAIN LONG IN THIS LIFE
A) THE DISADVANTAGES OF FAILING TO RECALL DEATH
B) THE ADVANTAGES OF RECALLING DEATH
C) THE ACTUAL METHOD OF RECALLING DEATH
BREATHING AND BELIEVING
LEARN2 STOP PROCRASTINATING
DO THE NOW THING!
IDENTIFY YOUR SYMPTOMS
DETERMINE THE UNDERLYING CAUSE
DEVELOP A STRATEGY
For fun, I created a little booklet with the contents of these Web sites. Some of the contents are interesting and all of them provide useful information, especially for pushing through the fog of “what’s next?”
Whatever. I actually started this email with something else to say. In the meantime, I have been interrupted by work-related items. Hmm…oh yeah, today is Valentine’s Day. That was one thing I was thinking about. Happy Valentine’s Day to you. I hope you find a way to enjoy it. The other thing was…I had told you about the web searches…I glanced over the titles again…okay, the other funny thing I was about to say (still can’t remember what I started out to say) is the funny thought that came to me. After looking at the titles, I noticed all the Web sites I left off of my search on http://www.google.com of “what the future will bring”. I realized, too, that I’ve got to get outdoors more often.
More interruption…where was I? Today is apparently not my day to sit down and record a few thoughts. And more people who want to talk to me. Okay, so I must be a magnet for people who like to talk. That’s it! I remember why I started this email.
You said that after you spent six months learning new products, you did not know what you are planning to do next. I assume, then, that you will still be working for SCT? Do you like the company? Does it provide you enough? I mean, do you feel that you want to keep working or do you even feel that the function you perform for SCT is really work? Is it part of the big picture of what Brenda is all about? I ask you this because you are the only person I know who has traveled as she has and still has not settled on what she wants to do or who she wants to be. Other friends of mine have traveled overseas and said that they learned to accept or changed where they are in American society because of a) the cultural continuance represented by the ruins of Rome, b) the heritage found in ancestral homes of Ireland/Scotland/England/Germany, c) the tolerance of different backgrounds by other cultures, and/or d) the relative poverty of Third World countries. Because I have only traveled to parts of the U.S, Canada and Mexico, I have not been directly exposed to a lot of different cultures. The one time I took off with my parents’ car and drove from Nashville to Seattle to L.A. and back in 10 days, I did learn that I had roots deeper than I thought in east Tennessee and love that I know in my heart is not the same as the love/lust sung about on the radio. The most interesting lesson I learned was while watching a couple of young, down-on-their-luck, hitchhikers take turns pulling pieces of grass out of their hair after sleeping on the side of the road – a sophisticated system of communication does not completely separate us humans from the rest of the animal world.
Well, my dear animal friend, I am near departing the workplace to take my wife to the see the movie, “In The Bedroom” for Valentine’s Day. As usual, I have more to say to you but the interruptions of work have slowed me down today. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a bit more peaceful. What I want to talk about has not yet been said. Until tomorrow then!
Reeeeck
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B,
What can I say? I am happy for you, if that can be said about a person who has decided her life is more important than the legal contract called marriage.
I’m sorry to hear about your dogs. I remember the wonderful pictures of your back yard in Charleston — the camellias, your peppy puppy — and I wonder how you’ve found the strength to get both into and out of marriage. You have always been strong on the outside, however, and I know that the reaction of others to ourselves reinforces our outer shells so as always, you will be okay to the people around you.
But are you really okay, and if not, does that matter? Will what you do make any change to the Brenda inside? As the saying goes, “we do not know what the future may bring,” “the entire world is there for your taking, if that is what you want,” etc. As you said, though, what do you need to do with your life?
[Pardon me, although you cannot see it, I am taking a moment to flush all the cliches out of my head and see what my employees are up to]
I had noticed in one of your last emails that you said you were visiting a coworker/friend. The way you said that I thought you were trying to tell me something but I couldn’t figure out why (I felt the same way about your email from the Netherlands). Then you spelled it out this last time. I completely understand your need for freedom.
The only times I have felt that I could freely be myself, I have been away from my wife. Is that a good thing? I have debated that issue with myself, psychologists, psychiatrists, therapists, sister and friends. I have had ample time to draw a conclusion. With my wife present, I once told a therapist that I hated my wife. The therapist thought the words would be a revelation to my wife. Little did the therapist know that I had already told my wife that I was going to say those words when we sat down with the therapist. Yes, I was manipulating the therapist but I was also preserving my wife’s feelings. After all, Janeil has been a friend of mine since we met in the summer between 6th and 7th grade. I do not hate Janeil, my friend. I do not hate Janeil, my daily companion. I do hate the wife. My wife is the manifestation of all that I dislike about society and religion. I want to lose my wife, get away from her and let me be me. I do not want to lose my friend, Janeil, who gives more than she takes, who is considerate of others, who loves others around her unconditionally and teaches me to love in kind.
In March, I am going down to Florida to visit my parents while my wife goes to Monterrey, CA, for a nuclear physics conference. I will have time to my self to seriously ponder my future.
Over the past few years, I have told you about events I wanted to take place before I made any decisions about my future. Those events have occurred – I have completed my bachelor’s degree, I have straightened out my credit card debts, Janeil is financially secure (she has close to a quarter million dollars in stock/retirement/savings) and I have reached a point where I know what I can do with my vocational life. In the meantime, I have reached middle age. I will be 40 years old in May. In some countries, I would be reaching the end of my average life span. In the United States, I am halfway through with my average life span. In other words, I have my life to live over again, pending an unnatural event in the interim.
Up to and during my visit to Florida, I will consider the following:
1. Do I want to stay married? If so, then I will establish a means of preserving my sanity.
2. If I decide not to stay married, then I will work out my options and weigh the consequences.
3. What kind of job do I want to have during the workweek? Do I want to get a master’s degree (and Ph.D.) and teach?
4. What do I want my financial situation to be like? Do I want to continue to acquire stuff? Do I want to settle down to a meager daily life? Do I want to travel?
5. What do I want to look back on 10, 20, 30 years from now and say I have accomplished?
6. Am I willing to fall on my face? Am I willing to screw up and start over again?
7. Where do I want to live? I grew up in the rolling hills of east Tennessee but have also enjoyed other climes – Anchorage, Alaska; coastal Washington state; Portsmouth, New Hampshire; central Florida; Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. What about outside of the U.S.?
8. Do I get more involved with the local art scene?
9. Do I just get wasted and piss my life away?
And in the midst of all these questions, the big question remains, “Who am I?” As a behaviorist, I would say I am the culmination of all my actions to date. It is not, “I think, therefore I am.” It is, “I am what I have done.” Some behaviors of mine are pleasant to think about and some are not. Aha, I have thought about my behavior so I am more than my actions. I am also my thoughts. Some thoughts of mine are pleasant to think about and some are not. I repeat, “Who am I?” Conclusion for today: I am pleasant to think about and I am not.
More later,
R
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Subj:Re: Why is Zelda interesting?
Date:2/11/2002 10:19:44 PM Central Standard Time
From:b
To:Rick
Sent from the Internet
I too wonder why I have always been attracted to the bittersweet. Did I mention that I have separated from Paul? I have been living in Austin since December. I am going to relocate temporarily to Columbia SC where my company is located for 6 months to learn some more products. Then where I am off to, who knows? There is a part of me that struggles to make the break, & then there is a part of me that is delighted with the freedom. I miss my dogs, but I need to figure out what I need to do with my life…
==========
FROM:Rick
02/11/2002 07:46 PM
To: b
cc:
bcc:
Subject: Why is Zelda interesting?
==========
B,
What is the story of Zelda? What does it mean to someone who has the luxury to look back at the life (and death) of a cultural star? How does Zelda’s relationship with her husband bring understanding about one’s spousal relationship? These are questions that I have pondered and from my pondering, I have suffered long sleepless nights and depressing, almost self-destructive, days during and immediately after reading the biography of Zelda and Scott. As time has gone by, the self-destructive tendencies have subsided but the feeling of regret has not. So, with that said, here is what has gone through my head and should explain the desire to know more about Zelda:
I have given up hoping to be a famous writer one day but I have not given up on my desire to put memories on paper, memories that I later turn into stories to entertain myself. I have known people like Brenda Faye whose lives of adventure, whose weeks, even days of adventure surpass the sum of what I have currently experienced (and yet, my experiences are often wilder than the ones of others I meet). Therefore, the memories from which I can draw interesting stories are few and the opportunities for interesting memories are getting fewer.
To see the way that Scott seemed to destroy Zelda was more than my weak mind could stand. Have I not also known this suffering? Have I not been caught in the trap of wanting to please me while ensuring that I am also pleasing others? Which master do I serve, my self or wife/family/society?
The act of kindness. What does that mean? I put a mixture of seed on the front and back decks to give outdoor birds a chance to eat something nourishing during the winter months but I do not send money to orphanages to feed and clothe undernourished children. Does that add up to an act of kindness? I cannot say.
Off to see “Big Fat Liar” with my wife (I wanted to see “In The Bedroom” but the wife has a headache).
More later,
Rick
==========
B,
I’ve always been interested in stories about the beginning of this country, which is really only a few long lifetimes ago (in other words, a person born in 1780 who lived one hundred years could have told stories to a hundred-year old born in 1870 who could have told stories to a person born in 1960 who is still alive today). Before my trip to south Florida, I picked up the most recent biography of Ben Franklin, called “The First American” by H. W. Brands. Ben was a remarkable person. I found out that his religious beliefs were similar to my own in a letter he wrote a few months before his death in 1790:
“Here is my creed. I believe in one God, creator of the universe. That he governs it by his providence. That he ought to be worshipped. That the most acceptable service we render to him is doing good to his other children. That the soul of man is immortal, and will be treated with justice in another life respecting its conduct in this. These I take to be the fundamental principles of all sound religion, and I regard them as you do in whatever sect I meet them with.
“As to Jesus of Nazareth, my opinion of whom you particularly desire, I think the system of morals and his religion, as he left them to us, the best the world ever saw or is likely to see; but I apprehend it has received various corrupting changes, and I have, with most of the present Dissenters in England, some doubts as to his divinity; though it is a question I do not dogmatize upon, having never studied it, and think it needless to busy myself with it now, when I expect soon an opportunity of knowing the truth with less trouble. I see no harm, however, in it being believed, if that belief has the good consequence, as it probably has, of making his doctrines more respected and better observed, especially as I do not perceive that the Supreme takes it amiss, by distinguishing the unbelievers in his government of the world with any peculiar marks of his displeasure.
“I shall only add, respecting myself, that, having experienced the goodness of that Being in conducting me prosperously through a long life, I have no doubt of its continuance in the next, though without the smallest conceit of meriting such goodness.
“I have ever let others enjoy their religious sentiments, without reflecting on them for those that appeared to me unsupportable and even absurd. All sects here, and we have a great variety, have experienced my good will in assisting them with subscriptions for building their new places of worship; and as I have never opposed any of their doctrines, I hope to go out of the world in peace with them all.”
Interestingly enough, when he was 22, he wrote an epitaph for himself:
The Body of
B. Franklin,
Printer;
Like the Cover of an old Book,
Its contents torn out,
And stript of its Lettering and Gilding,
Lies here, Food for Worms.
But the Work shall not be wholly lost,
For it will, as he believed, appear once more,
In a new & more perfect Edition,
Corrected and amended
By the Author.
Hope all is going well in your travels,
R
— 25 Mar 2002
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
To B
Yeah, the song by Jewel, “Who Will Save Your Soul,” brings up an interesting paradox — thinking about my life, and then hearing a performer say, “People living their lives for you on TV”…I guess “TV” could just as easily be “radio”, “CD”, “movie”, “church”, etc. — so the performer becomes part of the group that says it’s better than you, when in fact it all comes down to the individual’s choice.
Speaking of choice, how’s your search coming along? Have you found meaning in your life yet? I think I’ve given up on my life having a specific meaning or purpose. Instead, I’m concentrating on what I can do that will simultaneously satisfy my desire to have fun and keep the people around me (family, friends, co-workers) relatively happy. In other words, I’m continuing down the path of mutual compromise. At one point in my life, I thought that compromise was equivalent to “giving up” but now I’ve found that compromise is really just living a life here on planet Earth. We all make individual choices that we want to mesh with those around us (the ol’ self- versus species-preservation). As for the card I sent you, it’s not so much about seeking an awe-inspiring after-life but creating a little bit of heaven for the folks around me while we’re alive.
For example, I saw Alison Krauss and Union Station last night — they were a good bunch of performers. At one point, Alison said during a bit of talking on stage, “Well, I guess we better get back to playing. That’s our job and that’s what you came here to hear.” They were having as much fun on stage as they would working in a practice studio but realized there were a bunch of other people listening who might not get into all the banter on stage so they better find the joy in their instruments and start playing again.
Tomorrow, I have to give a presentation (i.e., performance) to managers from the corporate office (Newport Beach, CA) to demonstrate the capabilities of the test lab here in Huntsville so they can decide if they want to use the Huntsville test lab or the one in Newport Beach. My boss wants me to put on quite a show so that we get more work here in Huntsville. Now, all of sudden I’ve noticed a more competitive attitude in emails from the test lab in the corporate office, which implies to me that they feel some sort of pressure to prove they’re better than we are. I don’t care who’s better. I just want to make sure there’s enough work for my five workers and me.
BTW, Janeil and I are taking a vacation to Philadelphia this week. I know this sounds corny but Philly will always have a special place in my memories after the good time I shared with you and Adam. It’s too bad the pictures at the Philadelphia Museum of Art did not turn out well. I’d love to go back and re-enact the goofy things we did. I’d also love to go back to the area of Philly where we saw “Cyrano de Bergerac”. The last time I cried like that at a public theater was when I saw “Metamorphoses” performed at a Seattle theater four years ago.
÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷ ÷
Alzheimer’s
On Monday, I visited my Uncle Ralph, who is in a hospital in Maryville, TN, waiting for his kidneys to clear up and recovering from an urinary tract infection. Then, he will undergo a heart catheterization procedure to see if his heart attack last week damaged his heart. A few weeks ago, he had finally put his wife, Polly, in a facility called Asbury Acres for people with Alzheimer’s disease. After seeing my uncle, I went to visit my aunt and here’s what I saw:
Yesterday evening, I was driving around Maryville seeing all the new subdivisions being built and I drove by Asbury Acres. Against my better judgment (I was still a little nerve-wrecked from visiting Ralph), I turned around and drove back to Asbury Acres. I walked into the retirement home and was told by the receptionist that Polly was in the medical center. The receptionist then proceeded to give me instructions about access to the building. Here is a summary of my visit:
I drove up to the medical center building, which is around the corner from the retirement home (from the entrance, the medical center appears to be a single story structure, although you can see there are what appear to be “underground” stories). I entered the foyer and walked down the hall past an interesting birdhouse to the elevator. Inside the elevator, I had to punch in a code on a keypad (*234) before the elevator floor buttons would become operational. I punched the first floor button, and the elevator went down.
Upon exiting the elevator, I turned to a door on the left, where I had to press a button on the wall in order to unlock the door. As I opened the door, I saw several people who seemed at least halfway coherent standing around or shuffling down the hall. A floor nurse (I’ll call her floor nurse #1) stood behind a counter and gave me instructions on how to get to Polly’s section. As I walked down the hall to Polly’s section, I observed two women looking at a picture of themselves posted on the wall outside a room. I stood at entrance to Polly’s section and watched the two women for a moment. One woman said to the other, “See, this is your room because that’s your picture. My picture’s there, too, so I must live in this room, too.” Floor nurse #1 kept yelling at me to press the keycode on the wall so I looked around and finally noticed a small keypad on the wall on the right side of the entrance.
I had to punch in the same keycode I used in the elevator in order to unlock the door. As I opened the door, I saw several people (who looked liked ghosts of their former selves) standing or shuffling along. My nervousness shot up a notch. I asked the floor nurse of Polly’s section (floor nurse #2) where Polly was. She told me that Polly had just been put to bed (it was around 7 p.m. Eastern time) and pointed me around the corner. I walked through another set of double doors (these doors were already open and did not need to be unlocked). Polly’s room, 132N, was on the right. At the entrance to Polly’s room, a woman in a wheelchair stared at the nameplates. She looked at me as if I was going to scold her and said, “Oh, I’m just looking at the names to see if it’s anyone I know.” I nodded my head and walked into the room.
I had seen Polly recently and already knew how thin she was. Laying in bed, she looked even thinner. Her eyes were shut and she was curling into and out of a fetal position, while talking out loud. From what I could tell from the words coming out of Polly’s mouth, there were several streams of conversations taking place. In one stream, a mother and her young daughter were talking to each other. In another stream, she was describing something she was seeing that I could not understand. In another stream, she was just mumbling. I stood by her bed for several minutes and listened to her, not knowing if I should speak because I couldn’t tell if she was in a dream state, in a state of delirium from drugs or wide awake. In any case, she did not know I was there so I looked at the pictures on the wall. The most touching picture was the one of Ralph and Polly from 1995 — they both looked very happy. I waited until my nerves could no longer take it and walked out (I almost ran out of the room). To calm myself down, I spent a few minutes talking with floor nurse #2 about the latest word on Ralph. She had not seen any of Polly’s family yesterday and did not know if the heart cath procedure was a definite thing; she knew that Ralph was very worried about Polly. I told her the heart cath was planned for this morning and asked her to pray for Ralph — she said she had been and would continue to do so.
After I left Polly’s section, I hurried to get…to get out of the next section but was blocked by a man in a stand-up wheelchair. He insisted on shaking my hand and was mumbling. Floor nurse #1 told me that he spoke only Spanish so I told the man, “Hasta manana”. He shook his head as if he wanted me to stay and talk with him. I nodded my head and repeated, “Hasta manana” and patted him on the shoulder. Floor nurse #1 gave me a smile of sympathy and pointed me to the exit. I punched in the keycode, opened the door and walked over to the elevator. When the elevator door opened, two women inside were as confused and nervous as I was and we could not determine which floor led to the building exit. The elevator moved to the third floor and a man stepped on who said he had been as confused as we were and had ridden the elevator up and down a few times himself. We figured out that the building exit was on the second floor.
We all stepped off the elevator with relief. I stopped to look at the birdhouse, which is like a glass aquarium except it has birds, mainly finches from what I could tell.
I got in the car and was ready to cry. I drove around Maryville some more and ended up at the old Kay’s ice cream store. I had a refreshing vanilla milkshake. I called my sister and told her about the experience. We decided that perhaps I shouldn’t tell Mom about the trip to Polly’s until after the outcome of Ralph’s surgery.
I can see why Ralph cries anytime he mentions Polly at Asbury Acres. I’m sure it was a tough decision to put her away, so to speak. I can also see why he’s able to get a full night’s sleep, if what I saw was Polly’s normal condition.
so, b, you’ve seen the world — what’s it all about? i feel like we’re just supposed to live our lives and hope we aren’t too much of a burden on others. but what’s the definition of a burden? if we do something for someone out of love for that person, no matter how much we suffer in the process, should that be considered having a burden placed on us by the loved one? no. then i guess we’re supposed to live our lives and hope we’ve generated enough love that others will want to take care of us at our worst. but what is love? love is many things to many people, of course, but in this case, love is the…the biochemical attraction that makes us go crazy when we’re not with the other person, that makes us do what it takes to keep that other person with us…a mutual attraction…a positive reinforcing codependency, of sorts. so why do some humans have this love for one other human and some do not? if we’re just here to procreate, then this love would be beneficial to the whole species (and seems to be so for other species, as well). why the disparity between members of our species? in the end, when i’m sitting in some nursing home pooping in my pants, will anything i have said really matter, even if i have said something that has benefited our species? after visiting my aunt and seeing the unnamed faces in the hallway, it sure didn’t feel that way. but that’s just me, of course, i always look for ways to feel depressed, a kind of euphoria that’s down instead of up, a kind of emotion that’s addictive in ways that are detrimental to my daily living, a habit i have to constantly ensure i’m not picking up again, like some kind of ex-druggie surrounded by pushers i have to keep saying no out loud while inside i’m saying yes.
enough already, i have to get ready to go see A Mighty Wind.
– 28 May 2003
treetrunkdings 