“Know when to give up, and when to keep forging on.” People used to always tell me, usually on the heels of some grievous defeat, that things will look up, that if I keep working hard the world would reward me. But that’s not true, is it? There are so many people out there trying … Continue reading Knowing When
We all have baggage, don’t we? But it’s not like luggage that we tag and hope gets to the same destination that we do. Our baggage is something we can’t help but carry along with us, whether we want to or not, and it stays with us. What we choose to do about that baggage is up to us, though, if we let it drag us down, or if we learn from it and become better about not accumulating more baggage.
I know I personally have a lot of baggage myself, and most of it has a lot to do with how I see myself today. When I was younger I tended to blame pretty much everyone else in my life for my opinions of myself. They told me I was a certain way and I internalized that, thinking it was true and creating my own baggage in the process. I was a nerd. I was too short. I was awkward around others. I was, in most respects, a basket case. Because I chose to believe others.
There was an episode of How I Met Your Mother that treated this idea in a wonderful way, by showing people with actual labeled baggage that they were physically carrying with them. How great would that be? When we first met someone we could see that they have 10 bags they’re struggling to carry, and we can walk the other way. Right? Of course if that were the case, I probably wouldn’t be married now.
You see, when we first start out in a relationship it’s the human way to dole out those pieces of baggage bit by bit, over a course of time. It’s called “getting to know each other.” Perhaps you’ve heard of it. In this way the other person is able to digest what we’ve told them one at a time instead of getting bombarded with it all at the same time. That’s the only reason they don’t run screaming away from us when we first meet, and why we advance to a second, third, and umpteenth date.
But think about it. One of the biggest issues we have in relationships is that we don’t ever divulge all of the baggage. Continue reading “Baggage Claim”
It was the best of times, it was the better of times. Or something like that. It’s been said that people either love the place they grew up in or they hate it. So many people spend so much time trying their hardest to “escape,” to get out and move on with their lives, because they don’t appreciate the place that raised them. While others are quite content to live and grow old in the place of their birth, around the people who have always been around and who will always be around.
I’m a bit different. I love where I grew up but I don’t still live there. Philadelphia is the most amazing city in the world. I was just there last weekend, and every time I go back it both reminds me why I love it, and why I still miss it so much. Of course I haven’t lived there since late 1998, a span of over 15 years, but it’s still a version of “home” that I treasure more than almost any other place in the world.
There’s just something to be said about that Philly atmosphere, even though I’ve never had one of those famous cheesesteaks (it’s the first question I get asked whenever anyone finds out I’m from the city of Brotherly Love). I mean, that Philly vibe is one of the most unique I’ve ever been around. I liken it to being a fan of a football team. You might adore the team, but when it does something stupid you scratch your head and complain. It doesn’t mean you don’t still love the team. You’re just so invested that you feel a part of it, even when you have no say over it. Continue reading “Tale of Two Cities”
“If I gave you time to change my mind, I’d tried to leave all the past behind. Knowin’ that you lied straight-faced while I cried, still I look to find a reason to believe.” – Rod Stewart
I want to believe the best in others. In fact, anytime I meet someone knew I give them the benefit of the doubt, even if I’ve heard things about them that might give others pause. I guess I’m just naive maybe, but I think I should get to know someone myself before judging them. Too often I think we tend to judge others based on hearsay instead of talking to them first.
I’ll admit I’m not perfect. Maybe that’s why I want to give others a chance, because I wish they wouldn’t pre-judge me. That’s one of the glories of human nature, though, and too many have bought into the theory that if enough people say something that makes it true. Too often those mistaken beliefs will cloud our vision. That’s not to say that sometimes those rumours and assertions aren’t true, because, yes, sometimes they are, but let me find that out for myself.
Perhaps that’s why I have several friends who don’t seem to have any other friends besides me. Which is okay by me. It’s like finding diamonds in the rough, like I have a secret society of superheroes who have powers others simply don’t appreciate. Now, that doesn’t mean I let people walk all over me. Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness, but I do give people that benefit of the doubt. I believe wholeheartedly in the adage, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.”
But romantic relationships are different, though, right? We guard our hearts like a vault. But I will admit I haven’t. Continue reading “Reason to Believe”
I’m a night person. Okay, I used to be a night person. I guess it’s all just a matter of perspective.
When I was a kid I wanted to stay up as late as humanly possible, sometimes inventing fake “illnesses” in order to stay up just a little bit longer. Then I became a pre-teen and discovered 90210. But it came on at 9 o’clock, which also happened to be my bedtime, and my mother was super-strict. Luckily I got a VCR as a teenager and was able to record it, but it just wasn’t the same. You know?
Finally I became a young adult and I could pretty much stay up as late as I wanted. So I did. Often back then I wouldn’t go to sleep until 2 or 3 in the morning. The problem was of course dragging myself up out of bed when the alarm clock sounded the next morning, always way too soon for my tastes. Oh yeah, and I was in college, so I can’t tell you how many morning classes I missed due to my night owl habits. In fact, I showed up for one of my morning classes 3 whole times one semester.
It was pretty obvious I would have to find some balance or I would fail all my classes just for lack of attendance. But I just was not tired when a “normal” bedtime would come around. 8 o’clock, nope. 9 o’clock, still wide awake. 10 o’clock, just getting started. 11, 12, 1, and the time would keep moving while I watched TV, played video games, read books, listened to music, or all of the above at the same time.
Sometimes my mother would stop by my room on her way to bed and wish me a good night, giving me the look that said, “You know you should be going to bed too,” without actually saying the words. Her point was a valid one, one that I finally had to confront head on when at the end of my third college semester the school placed me on probation. You see, I hadn’t shown up to any of my classes for four weeks, and some of my professors thought I had dropped. When I arrived two classes before the final exams they told me in stereo that I wouldn’t be able to take the test. I hadn’t logged enough hours of seat time in each course.
That hit me like a ton of bricks. All the time I spent staying up late, getting up whenever I felt like it, it was all coming back to poison me like some erstwhile apple in fairy tales. There was no longer any time to “take care of it later.” The time was upon me, and I began making some drastic changes. Continue reading “The Early Bird”
Before I die I want to live. I don’t remember where that quote comes from, but it’s one I’ve lived by since I turned 21. Before then I never even thought about death, even though all around me people were dying every day. None of it really seemed that personal to me until I turned 21 and began having little aches and pains, signs that informed me of my own mortality.
In recent years a lot of focus has been given to the proverbial “bucket list,” a list of things people want to do before they die. It started off with a lot of older folk and their list of regrets. What didn’t they do that they wish they had done in their lifetime? They were regrets, though, because almost everything on their lists were impossibilities for people of advanced age. That’s when people younger and younger began writing out their own bucket lists of things they could conceivably do if they lived a nice long life.
Of course living a nice long life is not a given for anyone who’s young, and we can see more and more the stories of people who’ve died young, before they had a chance to truly live, before the things on their bucket lists could be successfully completed. I recall reading a book once about this woman who was involved in the death of a young girl who had a list of 40 things she wanted to do before 40. I could be massively reinterpreting the plot structure of the book, but it was intriguing, completing someone else’s list out of a sense of guilt or obligation. In a way it was even better because the woman felt compelled to go out of her comfort zone to try and get some closure on what she had done, accidentally or not. The idea intrigues me. Continue reading “Before I Die”
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