Life Happens

Life is what you make of it. If we focus on the dreary, what could very well be real, we fail to recognize just how silly and zany it can be. Sure, smoking causes cancer. People who shoot up drugs are constantly on the brink of overdosing. A nervous twitch could be the onset of multiple sclerosis. A trip to the grocery store could end in loss of limb or death if another car careens into our paths. Deep frying jalapeno poppers in the Fry Daddy could potentially burn the house down. We all think nothing will happen, pushing the bad into the backs of our minds, as we carry about our lives.

But when you think too much about any of the above, you begin to fear life. I think skydiving would be an amazing experience, but it's not for everyone. Why? The dangers are imminent. Namely, the parachute won't open, the plane will crash, there's no guarantee of a safe landing...etc, etc. Of course, going to work on a daily basis could potentially pose some threat. Just last week, two cars were broken into in the surrounding area. But that's only if I make it to the office. I could get into a car accident, or have some truck slam into my body when I kneel to change a tire alongside the road.

Dangers about, they really do. The typical person will surpress these ideas and live the present. We all throw caution into the wind. We fixate less on the mishaps of living and find our way to get what we need to survive. Even those who fear leaving their homes for any of the above mentioned reasons could fall victim to electric fires, slipping in the shower, or stepping on a nail. Bright yellow CAUTION tape should really wrap around out "personal space" so we're made aware of the dangers outside our bubble. But in an ordinary day, we never truly know what bad will happen. (As I write this, my sperm count is dropping as the heat of the laptop incinerates my little guys, and the tendons in my wrists are knotting up.)

Inconveniences that result from living are overshadowed by the here-and-now. Studies have undoubtedly shown smoking causes cancer. Yet, smokers aren't worried about that...now. Need to get to Point B, when Point B is halfway across the country? Just hop in some large pressurized tube with 100+ strangers and go careening through the sky at the hands of some captain you've never met. Amusement parks make millions of dollars each year by charging people who are "thrill seekers" to ride on runaway trains will little more than an iron bar to protect them from any mishap.

We overlook the hiccups in life so we can focus on living, having fun, or what have you. When we spend too much time fearing the what-ifs, we miss out on being human and enjoying ourselves. We have things like cars and trains for getting around, razors for removing unwanted hair, and ovens for preparing our meals. A gas water heater keeps our showers hot and a pair of scissors is oh-so-handy for just about any craft project or coupon clipping. But any of these things could very well secure our demise. Still, we carry on.

Focusing on these little things may make us realize just how ridiculous life could be. Things that make Saturday Night Live's "Debbie Downer" skits seem so funny. We realize that if we pay credence to possible mishaps or obstacles in day-to-day life, it's all a bit absurd. By the same token, it makes us laugh. And enjoying life is one of the most wonderful things we'll experience.

DEBBIE DOWNER SKIT

Funny Doesn't Mean Laughter

I'm depressed. But aren't all artists?

I'm deep. Real deep. Sometimes I think so hard about something that I get wrapped. Like this blog, for instance. I want to write, and I know how to write, but there's some motivation lacking or something. Well, the motivation is there, but a topic fails me at the moment.

Let's reflect on what makes Ian smile...

Seeing my partner happy and knowing the love we share.

Seeing my niece's face.

Knowing my cousin's young family.

My pets.

Ice cream.

Creating.

Giving a satisfactory experience to a client at work.

Desperate Housewives.

McDonald's large iced hazelnut coffee.

Flying a kite.

Writing something amusing.

A sunny, but cool day.

Let's reflect on what makes Ian laugh:

Sharing something funny with my partner, that he equally thinks is funny.

When our dog runs around the house like he's WAY over-caffienated.

Reading posts on http://www.lamebook.com/.

Conan.

Reading posts on http://www.regretsy.com/.

The ridiculousness of day-to-day life.

Margaret Cho.

Being tickled.

Thinking of something that's inappropriate for the setting.

Yes, I'm a multifaceted person, just trying to make sense of this crazy world we live in. Sometimes I wonder if there's more to life than the here-and-now. Of course, I know there is. I read about it all the time. Rags to riches stories, brainiacs who managed their business correctly, and accidental millionaires. I know money's not the solution to everything, but I also know it has the ability to make life more comfortable. No, I'm talking about some alternate, parallel universe. A place that not even leading physics can identify. Does it exist?

If it does, would I be the same person I am today? Or would I look like me but have a different, if opposite, personality?

Slumber Party!

There's something I'm really good at, that I imagine a lot of people wouldn't brag about. I have this incredible ability to sleep. Soon after my head hits the pillow, I drift off from a state on consciousness to a state of deep relaxation. Problems and worries don't seem to bother me when I'm laying down, so I just fall asleep. And oh, peace. Tranquility. And I can do it at any time I so choose, and not just bedtime.

I can wake up, feeling well rested, go about my day and when I have a down moment, I sleep. It's like a belch on command, only more polite. Well, polite provided I don't fall asleep in front of company. Call it narcolepsy, but I can control it. Some might say I'm depressed. I say they're jealous of my ability. It never gets out of hand. I'm always in command of my awakeness, so I don't miss out doing things. But on my days off, when I feel the mood strike, I take a trip to Slumberland. And it's amazing.

Now, I know there's a ton of sleep disorders out there. Recently, I saw a special on a boy who would sleep for days at a time. Like hibernation. He wouldn't wake to use the bathroom or eat, or anything. And his family have no idea when his deep sleep will happen, it just does. He retreats into his bedroom and doesn't emerge until his body tells him it's time.

Others might look at this kid like a poor, pitiful thing, who's missing out on what life has to offer. I look at him like a person who's somewhat blessed. He has an excuse for sleeping. That's the only thing I lack when I lounge around and sleep all day. Sometimes I get quizzed on why I choose to sleep some days. My partner suffers from insomnia, so I know there's a touch of envy there. If I had what this kid has, I'd be able to write it off to science, a biological deformity within me. But I cannot. On the other hand, I wouldn't want to lose control of my ability to sleep. I'd want to sleep when I wanted to, not because my brain knocked me unconscious against my wishes.

Today was one of the days I chose to sleep, Labor Day 2010. The movers and shakers in history before us pushed to have working conditions improved and a national day of rest for workers. So, I took their commemorative holiday and did exactly how I felt they intended it to be used. For doing no labor. Nadda. And there's no better way to stall work habits than to become unawake. Naked body between satiny sheets for hours on end, oh so luxurious.

Dangerous Living

As humans, we are succeptible to just about anything. The medical and insurance industries make billions, trillions of dollars from expecting us to fail as a species. Each one of us is only temporarily abled. We can fall victim to any number of mishaps, either physcially or mentally; innate or put upon us from outside forces. Something could be lurking in any one of us just waiting for the optimal time to attack. Danger is around every corner, and where there's no corner, it's there too.

Our bodily enemies could be invisible to our eyes, such as the case of viruses. Or, our enemy could be something very concrete, like an oncoming vehicle. At any point, with the elements are just right, the wrong thing could happen.

I've had my fair share of mishaps. I experienced clinical death resulting from a car accident when I was ten. Nearly killed my whole family. Eight years ago, I sliced the top of my hand wide open, doing the incredibly menial dish washing chore. I've hit my head several times and stubbed my toe. I've had my finger smashed in a door, and cut a thumb with a hand saw. Once, I fell with one leg on each side of a metal beam, used to support my bed. It felt like it split me in two. I've had the wind knocked out of me when the misguided inner-tube I was riding ran ashore. Tonight, I bit my lip over a meal of fried rice.

None of these things were expected, but they all happened. Sure, I sound accident prone, but who isn't? We all are, really. And even if we are super careful, drive with our seatbelts on, lift with our legs, and never look up when it's raining, mishaps will happen. We will harm ourselves.

Sometimes, the mishap is much less noticeable. We humans like to indulge. Hey, we only get one life, why not live it to its fullest? I have an affinity for cold coffee. Too much caffeine is bad, and it's bad on the wallet, too. We like things that are sweet, or salty, or too good for our tastebuds to be true. We're told if we don't watch what we eat, we'll pay dearly for it. High cholesterol, diabetes, coronary heart disease, obesity. But, don't eat too much of the "good stuff" (veggies, whole grains, and the like) or your teeth will fall out, you'll lose your hair and you'll become anemic. Damned if we do, damned if we don't.

Recently, I started lowering my daily caloric intake and exercising on that blasted exercise bike. Oh, how I loathe exercise. But I did it a few years ago, and lost many, many pounds. I was looking good. But that was two years ago. I put all that weight back on, and then some. I have a love-hate relationship with ice cream and chocolate. Oh, the sweet-wonderful-take-me-away taste of Heath bar pieces intermingled with smooth-and-utterly-delicious espresso ice cream and almonds. But oh, you bitch!

Truth is, I'm like most everyone. I want what I want, when I want it, but I don't want to pay the price of eating such delectable treats. I don't want to exercise, but I want to eat it, and eat it all. And, oh yeah, I want a model body. I want to be able to walk around with my shirt off without parents' shielding their children's eyes as I mow the lawn. I'd like to visit the beach without fear of leaving tanlines below my man boobs. And I want to eat ice cream with all the goodies mixed throughout it. But I can't have that.

I've been doing really good the past few days. Ice cream and I have decided to take a little break from each other. I curb my loneliness by getting on that dreaded bike and cycling while listening to classic rock or some dance track. I burn 1000 calories each trip, and I feel so much better.

Last night, I was thumbing through photos (yes, in a day before digital photography) to seek out pictures of Halloween costumes I've made in the past. I want to create a collage of my previous works to display, even if purely for braggin' rights. In the process, I jogged down Memory Lane. Many of the pictures dated back ten years. And wow. What a difference life makes. That, and the comfort of being in a relationship with the right person. You just kind of let yourself go. "Oh, we're in love, so let's eat!"

I want to try to reach the physique I had in my twenties. Well, I didn't really have a "physique", per se, but my waistline was a bit smaller. I'm happy to report that ice cream and I have decided to divorce. It's an amicable split. He's gotten quite a few years of my life, I have the rest to make my own.

Yes, we can get attacked at anytime. Either real, or imagined. I know I'm giving my all in an attempt to make my life better, but even the strong can fall. It only takes the right moment and the right conditions to make things not the way we anticipated. I read this quote on a bumper sticker once, and I've carried it with me: "Life is what happens when you plan for something else." It's true.

A New View

When you speak from the heart, words move freely. They channel from visions in your mind down through your nerve endings and into the muscles that control our fingertips. Our fingertips either find a pen, pencil, marker, or other writing implement. In this day and age, and with the ease of technology, I choose the computer screen as my instrument for sharing my thoughts, words, and other musings.

I could have been "Tiffany", if I were born with a vagina. But, I was blessed with a weiner. Well, I use the term blessed loosely. Being male is neither a blessing nor a curse. I am forever grateful I don't have a menstrual cycle. The sight of blood, my blood, even the slightest, makes me queasy. Yet, oddly enough, I draw blood as part of my job. Stabbing and jabbing complete strangers doesn't seem to bother me at all. Provided their blood stays in the test tube and doesn't mistakenly pool to the surface.

It is a curse, but only slightly, that I wasn't born Tiffany. I'll never know the joy of childbirth, or how weird it feels to experience my body changing as a seed grows into a baby within me. I'm male. All male. I have a penis, and that's that. No pregnancy, no morning sickness, no stretch marks. Oh wait, I DO have those.

I believe I have more feminine characteristics than masculine. My testosterone levels must not be high enough. I still get mistaken for a woman on the phone, at times, and half the time in the drive-thru at the fast food joint. Puberty hasn't quite hit me, and I'm 33. I have stretch marks, though not through pregnancy, but to look at my naked body, you would think I had. I have child-bearing hips and large thighs. Still, I have a male organ. And I like it that way. I do not desire to be a female, yet so many of my traits are characteristically so.

I'm emotional. What macho man would write such a musing, really? Then again, what is macho? I'm on antidepressants, for reasons, I'm not quite sure. I know why Zoloft is key in my life, I'm just not quite sure why I'm depressed. Any sob story or family reunion on Oprah will get me to cry along with these people. Perfect strangers to me, yet oddly familiar. The story. We all share a similar story, as humans. But I don't come from a broken home. My parents are still together after all these years. And everyone seems to accept me for who I am. If they only knew. Still, why do I appear to be unhappy? Am I unhappy?

Just today, I was talking with my partner, the love of my life, about the meaning of life and the idea there's no "great beyond". Once we're gone, that's it. No afterlife. No heaven. No hell. What we do now, won't matter a hundred years from now. Or will it? What will we each do, in our own way, to be remembered? To make our imprint in our world, our culture, and our community. The Egyptians worked their asses off, and thousands of years later, historians are still mystified by their lives. I want to walk like an Egyptian. I want to have a life others marvel over. Not in the way of money or material goods, but in some deeply moving emotional or spiritual way. Like Mother Teresa, only non-religious.

I love who I love.

I'm not religious, but spiritual.

I believe in big things and making a difference.

I'm here now, and plan to be.

I want to live life, not to just exist through it.

I'm creative and smart.

I love to write.

So, why can't I do what needs to be done to make an impression, not just in my life, and the lives of those around me? But to society as a whole. I want people to remember me like DaVinci or Princess Di. I want to be known for something.

Mind to nerve, nerve to muscle, muscle to finger. I will write. I will stand out and be known for doing my best and giving my all to be known for something. Just what, I'm not sure yet. But as I type these words on this Friday night, I know that someone, somewhere, at some point in time, will feel deeply moved by my musings. Maybe it will be just another human with nothing better to do than to browse through other peoples' writings. All it takes is one person to make a difference in another person's life. Are you that person? I know I will be...to someone.