The Garden

I’m thinking of taking the next week off of blogging. It’s no big deal, really: I’ve just decided that maybe the best way to get the voices in my head to quiet down would be to find other shit to do. Normally, I update at least once or twice a week, which is more than a lot of bloggers do. Unsurprisingly, I still have so many opinions that I’m not even sure what to do with them. I feel that I should watch more German films. The best way to learn a language is to just go to the native country and speak it, but I think I need to build up a little more confidence before I’m ready to do that. My brother forgot all of the German he learned in high school. I kept with it in college and can still remember a lot of it. So there’s that.

I find that the more time goes by since I last acted, the less I miss it. I also find myself getting farther away from the friends that I made in that time. That’s probably not a bad thing. I like plays a lot, musicals a little less so, but my championing of theatre as an art form has more to do with its marginalization than any personal preference I might have. There was a time when a renowned stage actor could be a national celebrity. Not any more. Everyone knows who Tom Cruise is, but stop twenty people on the street and ask if they’ve heard of Audra McDonald and you’d be lucky if even one or two said yes. And that’s a shame. She really is phenomenally talented.

One musician I knew once told me his dad had quipped that both Rogers and Hammerstein knew, deep down in their hearts, that “Climb Every Mountain” is a bad song. I don’t know if I agree, but it is a bit sentimental. I have a musician friend who troubles me a little. He is constantly talking about how depressed he is, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s people who won’t stop talking about how depressed they are. On the other hand, he’s always talking about how he’s here for anyone if they need someone to talk to. You need to pick one or the other. If you’re feeling shitty, work through it. If you’re in the mood to talk, contact someone else and ask them how they’re doing. It kind of feels like he’s trapped in a cycle where he can’t feel truly happy or truly sad. The Zen Buddhist in me sees this as a problem. In between my frequent bouts of uncontrollable rage, I occasionally experience something resembling inner peace. I still haven’t figured out how to make that last.

I seem to have lost my ability to get to bed on time or to get out of bed in the morning. I used to sit in bed with my laptop open only on mornings when I woke up too early feeling like shit, but that is gradually turning into a habit. I get into arguments on the internet sometimes, but the more I do it, the more I realize how few people agree with me on certain things. I know I’m not crazy. If the world thinks I’m crazy, that’s the world’s problem. But sometimes, I feel like other people are making exactly the same mistakes that I constantly try to avoid making myself. In a way, that makes me feel less alone. And in other ways, it just reminds me that I HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING.

Too much of my life has been spent realizing that something that has always been true is true, then fooling myself into thinking it just happened. That’s paranoia. It’s also the stuff of hypochondria, which I have had many struggles with in the past. You know, you find a mole that you didn’t know was there and before you know it, you’ve convinced yourself it’s melanoma. It doesn’t even matter if there’s nothing weird about the mole. Or maybe there is something a little weird about it, but since it’s always looked that way, so what? I’ve seen one or two dermatologists, and from the sounds of things, it’s not that hard to tell when something’s not right. It just looks funny, that’s all. I haven’t been seriously ill since I ate too much and threw up a couple times one night back in middle school, but I was at school the next day. All things considered, I’m probably more reliable than most; I just don’t see it that way because I have a goddamn marching band playing in my head twenty-four seven and no idea what to do about it.

It’s been said by a lot of self-help gurus and shit, but people really aren’t very good at seeing themselves from the outside. Everyone focuses in on blemishes and shortcomings so minor that other people likely don’t even notice, much less care. The funny thing is that sometimes people do notice, and it’s up to you to decide whether or not that actually means anything. Because if you can’t love yourself, how can you expect anyone else to?

It's a similar sentiment.

It’s a similar sentiment.

I guess what I’m really trying to say is that if you really believe something, you believe it. Period. If you can convince others that you are sincere, maybe they’ll come around to your side. But it does take a leap of faith. You have to let it go and see if it comes back. And it might not. But sometimes it does, and when that happens, it’s usually because you’ve both been through so much that you’re finally ready for it.

I’ve suddenly become a lot more invested in the Super Bowl.

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