A Pain That I’m Used To

I’m having pretty mixed feelings right now. On one hand, the agency that I just applied to for housing rejected me, which means I’m back on the market. Oh, joy. And yeah, I suppose there is shit happening right now that isn’t 100% horrible, but since this blog is not for me to bask in things that are going well, I think it’s time for me to talk about the shit. And man, is there a lot of it.

My mother just moved back in. I’m not going to detail all of my grievances with my parents. If you’re not aware of that yet, browse the archives, because I’m just not interested in talking about it anymore. No, they don’t beat me or emotionally terrorize me. I just don’t like being around them. The whole atmosphere is stifling. I need my own goddamn place. I’m tired of having dinner with them just because you’re supposed to have dinner with your family, and are you really going to say no to this nice meal Mommy cooked for you? At this point in my life, I almost can. Up until recently, I thought I could be out within a few weeks. But not anymore.

I don’t like apartment hunting. I don’t like responding to Craigslist ads, commuting to the place, shaking hands with people you met on the internet and then trying to convince them that you’re better than the other people who are looking. Guys, I am what I am. If you don’t feel like giving me the place, there’s just nothing I can do about that. And I really am an awesome roommate. Hell, even Psycho Queens Guy told me that, and he’s a psycho! (That same night, he threatened to kill me. Long story.) I’m pretty sure the reason I got rejected for this last place is that I don’t make enough money. See, they want somebody who is respectable and hard-working, not some lowly barista. It wasn’t even my prospective roommate’s decision, but the landlord’s. Fuck him.

I’ve had shitty roommates. I’ve had more shitty roommates than most people have had sex partners. And I’m getting really tired of it. I’m getting tired of getting passed up for people who are less responsible and less tidy than I am just because, I don’t know, maybe they’re better than talking the talk. I’m trying not to let this get me down, trying not to hold onto my anger. But I really had high hopes for this place. And I’ve been looking for a while. At one point, I even tried responding to the same ad twice from two different email addresses because the place looked like such a perfect fit. Guess how that turned out?

Maybe housing is a seller’s market right now. Maybe maybe maybe. I don’t care. Some people want to be in a relationship just to escape the dating scene. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. It sucks, but it doesn’t. All I know is that I feel like I’m getting sandwiched. I have freedoms I never asked for (now we have a second car!) and don’t have freedoms that I would very much like, such as the ability to use the kitchen whenever I want. It’s frustrating, and don’t pretend you can’t figure out why. It’s amazing how oblivious people can be to something that is staring them right in the face, and no, I’m not just talking about my parents there.

I started reading The God Delusion recently but had to put it aside because I find Dawkins’ tone insufferable. He’s one of those people I find myself agreeing with and wanting to smack at the same time. At one point, he says, “Pantheism is sexed-up atheism.” Fuck you. Einstein was a pantheist, more or less. He did not believe in an interventionist god, an immortal soul or the power of prayer, but considered order and beauty of creation to be, in a sense, godlike. If you believe that, you’re not an atheist. It really is that simple. If there is anything that you believe in that you consider divine or that invokes spiritual feelings, you are not an atheist. Because that’s not what atheism means. I am not an atheist. If the only two boxes are “Believer” and “Non-Believer”, I check the latter, but if there is one thing I want people to understand here, it’s that “Do you believe in God?” is not a yes-or-no question. I find religion in any conventional sense to be unconvincing, which is why I spend more time listening to Tim Minchin than The Newsboys (although I will admit that “Entertaining Angels” is a damn catchy little tune). It’s not that I hate religion, just that I think that most of what passes for spiritual belief these days is a vast oversimplification. So I don’t think I’ll be reading the rest of The God Delusion.

(Tangentially, I would like to say that while there are many who would say about Hitchens exactly what I just said about Dawkins, I don’t agree. Hitchens was a funny motherfucker, and he always threw in just enough self-awareness or even self-deprecation to keep me on his side. So I will probably read god is Not Great at some point. Also, did you know that Hitchens was good friends with Francis Collins? Fucking crazy.)

It’s a dangerous thing to say, but I think there is such a thing as atheist posturing. I say “dangerous” because I know there are folks who will take that to mean that non-believers don’t really not believe and that we are all just lost and confused. Bullshit. But since “atheist” is a dirty word to so many people, I think that there are some folks who say that the Bible is a load of fairy tales just to piss people off. (I do think it’s a load of fairy tales, but I also don’t see why I should care if somebody believes it’s not.) It’s not all random, you know. Just mostly.

Go Away

May is the cruelest month, or so I just found out. Nothing disastrous happened; it was just long, slow, and shitty. I’ve often said that for me, time moves slower the more fun I’m having. That’s true, but lately, the days have started to blur together. Since I don’t work a nine-to-five, Monday-through-Friday job, I have almost no reason to know when the weekend is coming and when it isn’t (besides keeping track of train schedules). I need more going on in my life, and I’m not talking about people asking me if I’m okay. I don’t need anyone’s pity. I just need them to listen. I’ll figure the rest out by myself.

I haven’t seen a movie in a while (not in theaters, anyway). I heard Godzilla was okay and that X-Men was pretty good, but there’s nothing that motivates me to rush right out to see it. It’s hard to get motivated unless you have something to look forward to*. Maybe I should see concerts more often. I haven’t been to one since They Might Be Giants back in August, and that was the first time I’d seen a band that one of my friends wasn’t in in years. The local music scene where I live is pretty good. Maybe I should look into that. Of course, I’ll be going alone, but I’m pretty used to that by now.

(Off-topic, but this article reminds me of my assistant manager. I have an obsessive need to Myers-Briggs everybody I know. Retail, by nature, tends to attract ambitious, outgoing, rational and dedicated people, so it’s rather fitting. Meanwhile, I’m just over here with my head in the clouds and some chaotically insane dreams.)

When I was in elementary school, some friends and I decided to enter a science fair. I tried to design a machine that would open doors for handicapped people, but looking back, I can see how ungainly and impractical it was. Instead, we built bottle rockets, then filled them up with varying amounts of water to determine what air-to-propellant ratio would produce the most lift. (Our results: 25% water, 75% air.) It was fun. What’s the adult version of that?

Everything feels like it’s moving too quickly. I’ve spent so long spinning my wheels that I don’t know how to process change. Most likely, I’m about to hit a snag (braces self).

My fifth grade teacher was the kind of guy who was perfectly fine with people thinking outside the box and being creative so long as he got to have final say. At one point, he called into a local radio station and asked them to play a country song he liked just because he wanted us to hear it. Then we turned on the radio and heard ourselves greeting the host, followed by the song. I have to admit that’s pretty cool. But more than once, he and I butted heads because I did something unexpected (but not expressly forbidden) that he considered cheating. I’m sorry, but that’s just fucking lazy. I followed the rules, more or less. It’s not my fault that I found a loophole. In some cases, it didn’t even occur to me that what I was doing would be considered out of bounds, anyway, as I was still technically doing what had been asked of me. But in his eyes, I was using the letter of the law to defeat the spirit, and that justified a whole lot of self-righteousness and condescension. His praise on my report card, however, was effusive.

I find myself slipping more and more into existential negativity these days. I hate that feeling. You know, the whole “We’re all going to die anyway, so what’s the point?” kind of thinking that is totally unproductive, but impossible to stop yourself from doing. Funny thing is, death doesn’t scare me as much as you might think. I don’t relish the thought of getting hit by a bus or wasting away in a hospital bed surrounded by friends and family, but as far as I’m concerned, the atheistic idea that it’s nothing more than an eternity of nothingness seems almost simplistic. I am not a believer. Organized religion, in whatever form, has always struck me as little more than a fairy tale. I’m not an agnostic either, because I really don’t see the point in just saying “I don’t know” and leaving it at that. Consciousness is besides the point (and not really an either/or thing to begin with). You can have an idea of God that is as vague and generalized as you like (“God is love”, “God is the universe”), just don’t act as if the only thing that gives this life meaning is the thought of an afterlife. There is so much more to the universe than that.

A lot of the stuff I write on this blog is stuff that’s been floating around for a while. The titles in particular frequently have little to nothing to do with the content. It’s just a combination of words I heard somewhere that I liked, usually. This is a blog, after all. It doesn’t have to make sense.

It helps to have a bit of levity.

*Okay, so the advance reviews for Edge of Tomorrow are pretty positive. We’ll see how that one turns out.

Head in the Clouds

This is going to sound like a weird thing to say in such a forum, but I feel that I need to blog a little less. For the past six or seven months (but the last few especially), my go-to response every time something bad has happened to me has been to blog about it. That’s fine, but it won’t solve all my problems by itself. I kind of need to live a life outside of my WordPress account. So if my output drops over the next few weeks or so, bear with me. I’m just reminding myself of what life is like in the real world.

I used to think that if I waited long enough, I might be treated to a moment in which everything in my life came together for one glorious moment.  I’m growing out of that. It’s happened once or twice before, but it’s foolish to expect it. The stakes are the highest they’ve ever been. I am, after all, trying to carve out my own little corner of the world or whatever you want to call it. The thing that keeps tripping me up is red tape. I started applying for jobs this week. Nothing much, just a work-study position that I can work for up to 20 hours a week that will get me back in the rhythm of employment (I haven’t had a job since 2011), but on every application, they ask me if I’ve filled out the requisite tax and New York residency forms. “No, but I’m about to,” I want to say, but I dunno: Maybe they want me to fill out the forms first, even though the application form just says that I would need to do that before I start work, not before I get an interview. I am in the process of filling out said forms, but they never taught me how to do that in school. Every time I try, I want my mommy.

My apartment is starting to feel a little bit more like home, I guess. My parents gave me a $200 Pottery Barn gift card for Christmas, but neglected to add that nothing in Pottery Barn costs anywhere near that. A fancy wooden office chair caught my eye, but it cost $400. So I bought it anyway, figuring that I never would have shelled out that amount if I’d had to pay for it myself, but that $200 is not exorbitant for something this nice. (Seriously, this chair is really fancy. I’ll upload a picture if I can figure out how.) Perhaps my parents are encouraging me to put more money and effort into making my apartment “my space” in the hopes that I’ll stay there longer than I did at my last few places. Granted, I did not leave my last six or seven living situations of my own volition, but if that’s their hope, I understand. Maybe they’re right.

I’ve been trying to fit this next part into a blog post for some time now, and since I don’t really have a segue for it, I’m just going to say outright that I am sick of the splintering (for lack of a better word) within the LGBT community. There are gays and lesbians who think we should drop the ‘T’ because they feel no solidarity with transgendered people. Over my dead body. To be gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, or what have you is to be told that based on the genitalia you were born with, you must dress, behave, and love a certain way. The barriers to our equality are crumbling, but anyone who can’t see the similarity between saying that it’s wrong for a boy to love a boy and saying that it’s wrong for a boy to decide that he is actually a girl and start taking steps to better align her life with her identity isn’t trying very hard. At the same time, I think it’s obnoxious that so many queer people feel the need to make such a show out of not fitting neatly onto the LGBT spectrum. There are intersexual, bi-gendered, and pansexual people, and the only thing they all have in common is that I support their equality and wish they would shut the hell up. No, we do not need to add other letters to the end of “LGBT”. We use that acronym because it’s succinct, and there is nothing to say that anyone not specifically covered by those four letters can’t still fit under the umbrella. I am reminded of a charming English lesbian who, at one of the events for a queer group that I was semi-involved with a while back, promoted an upcoming event called “Gender-Neutral Line Dancing”, for those of us who want to line dance, but feel alienated by that boring gender binary that is more or less woven into the fabric of the act itself. Men dance with women, she said, but “I’m queer. How do I fit into that?”

However you fucking want to, honey, I silently answered. Seriously, why is that such a big deal? I’m not into line dancing, but if I were, I doubt I would mind dancing with women. (I used to be an actor, and–gasp!–I had to kiss girls sometimes.) I might not even mind dancing the woman’s part if we were short one woman, for that matter. I might even go out on a limb and suggest that there are probably line dancing groups already in existence that would be perfectly willing to let a lesbian dance with women if that is her cup of tea. Some problems are minor enough that they don’t need their own advocacy group or cutesy acronym. I don’t normally say this, but sometimes, a minor change of attitude is all that is required. For the sake of my sanity, please.

There are a million stories I could tell about my experiences in this group. There was the woman who wrote us a long, rambling open letter in which she seemed to say that since she didn’t identify as male or female, she would prefer it if we alternated gender pronouns when talking about her. How about we don’t? Asking people to respect your identity is one thing, but asking them to treat you like you have some dual identity is doing exactly what bigots are always accusing us of doing: asking for special privileges. There was the long-winded debate (seriously, it went on for pages and pages) on our Facebook page about whether “you guys” is a sexist phrase because it can denote either an exclusively male or mix-gendered group while “you girls” can only refer to women, but I don’t want to get too negative. The queer groups that exist on most college campuses are an important haven for those of us who are still figuring ourselves out. But as someone who as moved past that stage already, I basically just rolled my eyes a lot. There were awfully friendly, though.

This post is already running long, so I’ll be succinct with my last few points. I tend to see everything in absolutes, even though I know I shouldn’t. Whenever I get into a fight with a friend or family member, I worry that they’re going to sever all ties with me. When I get kicked out of an apartment, I think I’ll never find another place to live. It’s an easy fear to have when you’re young, and–who knows?–maybe when you’re older, too. If I were always wrong, that would be one thing, but sometimes my worst fears really do come true, and then I just have to fucking deal with it. It might be nice to see somebody stick their neck out for me, but that rarely, if ever happens. Whenever the shit hits the fan, it’s always me against the world, and I can throw all of the logic and persuasive argument that I want against people’s prejudices, but when they just want to protect their own clan, it won’t do any good. It’s kind of stupid to put your faith in people. You have to find something greater.

On a completely random note, this is the only Mariah Carey song I’ve ever enjoyed. Her brand of pop music is not my thing–not even close, really–but this one feels sincere, if not exactly brilliant.

I wish people would stop asking me to explain myself. I don’t see why I should think something just because everyone else does, and in the long run, I almost always turn out to be right about something. Getting people to listen is a weak spot for me and always has been. Men come and go, but the Robot King abides.

My birthday is relatively close. I’d like to make the next year not just better, but halfway decent. I don’t think I’ll succeed, but I still want to try.

Like a Mountain

It’s getting harder and harder for me to get a good night’s sleep. I’m just too stressed. Between fighting with my friends and family and frantically trying to get everything prepared for grad school, I’m having a very hard time relaxing. For some people, it’s easy to relax when you have no job and live with a parent. Those people are worthless. I was much more rested when I was acting in several shows at once and trying to keep up with my coursework while writing for a political magazine. I haven’t had to worry about any of those in a while.

I believe that the universe has a shape to it. I believe that after making it this far, I’m not just going to crash and burn. But right now, I’m having trouble seeing my way through any of this. I can’t see where it’s leading; all I know is that I don’t like it right now. Don’t give me any of this “It’s always darkest just before the dawn” crap. I don’t have the time or the energy to put any stock in inspirational platitudes. I have far too many problems on my plate to think that anything is going to solve them but blood, sweat, and tears.

I’ve been single my entire life. My life would be a lot easier if I could just abandon my principles, but I cling to them, and I can’t just let go. The guys I like aren’t swishy and they aren’t “in the community”, they’re just guys. Where do all of the Guys Who Are Just Guys Who Like Other Guys Who Are Just Guys (GWAJGWLOGWAJGs) hang out? What I look for in a partner is hardly different from what anyone else wants. I want someone whom I find physically attractive, can hold a conversation with and will tolerate my presence. Is that so much to ask? I’m not particularly concerned with “From across the room, their eyes met” romantic bullshit. Most people go through that phase in high school or college, but I was too busy figuring other things out, so that kind of passed me by. Personally, I’d just as soon skip the part where we wear matching outfits and eat off of the same plate for the part where he sits on my couch in his underwear and eats Cheetos. I think that’s why I had such a hard time bidding farewell to the guy I met last year who recognized me at a party just because he’d seen me around campus wearing a Doctor Who shirt. I see people wearing shirts for things I like all the time, but I don’t remember their face unless I want to be on it. I thought we had a connection, so after months of deliberating, I reached out to him. I don’t think he even noticed. What an asshole. He seemed like the sort of guy whose dick I would still want to suck even as he sits on my couch with the aforementioned Cheetos, but such is life. I don’t feel quite so angry anymore.

There is still a part of me that is waiting for him to realize the error of his ways, but it gets smaller every day. I can’t say I’m going to miss it. Whatever happens from here on out, I need to put this behind me. It has a way of creeping back in. But I’m not done fighting.

These days, I feel like I spend half of my time feeling just fine and the other half feeling like a nervous wreck. This is in stark contrast to just over a week ago, when I woke up after two hours of sleep feeling like pure shit. That remains one of the roughest days of my life, which I spent the bulk of sitting in my room watching YouTube clips of everything from gospel music to inspirational quotes just because I couldn’t work up the strength to do anything else. Sometimes you just want to get away, you know? I guess an essential part of life is learning to live with the chains that we select for ourselves. That’s all of the bumper sticker wisdom I’ll be offering here. Life cannot be captured in a single sentence.

Someday, I might be able to sleep well every night. I used to be able to do that no matter what. About two-and-a-half years ago, I lost that ability. I’m still trying to gain it back. I guess this is what they call “growing pains”. (Incidentally, if you’re reading this just because you saw the tag and thought I was talking about the TV show, fuck off.) Most of the time, I just feel like a pinball, ricocheting around the inside of a machine at top speed with no idea where I’m going to end up, but I nasty feeling that I won’t like it.

I have learned by now that it is foolish to think that you have any control over the grand scheme of things. People who focus on their day-to-day struggles and let the rest work itself out tend to do alright. The universe may have a shape, but that doesn’t mean it won’t fuck you like a prison bitch if you think you’re smarter than it is. You aren’t. Don’t even entertain the notion. I’m trying to live as a part of this world. But it has to let me in.