A Raindrop’s State of Mind

            A raindrop doesn’t have long to live, and its purpose is seemingly mundane. Their very existence serves one function; to provide and improve life on the planet below.  It can be a boring job without much flair, but it is an essential job nonetheless.  Some journeys last longer than others, but in the end what is there to show for it?  A single spot of moisture, remembered for an instant before its memory is dried up and swept away with time.

            What makes a raindrop different?  It is the size or shape, the slight chemical variation, or where it lands?  There is very little difference one raindrop can make.  A splash or two won’t change the sea, and a raindrop will certainly never be capable of more than a splash.

            Sadly, people are continuously captivated in a raindrop’s state of mind.

            This way of thinking, in particular, dominates artists, writers, and workers turning the corporate cog.  Of course, everybody would like to “make a difference” so to speak, but artists and writers suffer the terrible fate of obscurity.  The percentage of people who become household names in these professions is astronomically small.  The corporate man, on the other hand, suffers obscurity in a wholly different way.  He’s not alone in his insignificance; he’s joined directly alongside millions of people who spend their lives turning the wheel for their company commanders.  Perhaps their fate is worse than artists and writers.  The artist makes or breaks his fame on his own time, but the corporate worker is playing dice with his career advancement.  Some may climb the ladder, but most others just end up serving as a rung on it.

            It’s in the dark crevices of obscurity and obsolescence that people began to ask their existential questions – also referred to as the “midlife crisis” of middle-aged men.  They suddenly realize how much sand in their hourglass has run through as they step back and think, “Huh.  And what have I done with this time?   

It’s not a sense of defeat that overwhelms them; it’s a sense of pointlessness.  Why do I matter?  What can I do?  Am I really changing things for the better?

Am I just wasting my time?

This undying question is a life-changer.  If no one admires our work, did it really ever exist?  We thrive on the sense of satisfaction.  It comes from ourselves, but it must also be obtained through others.  We want to be admired, respected, appreciated for our work.  If what we’re doing doesn’t bring satisfaction or make a difference, then we question whether we’re just wasting our time or not.  It’s an eternal loop filled with the doubt that we’re fulfilling our potential and the fear that we’ll fail to succeed at anything else.

This is as much a matter of perspective as it is a matter of relevancy.  People very often judge “success” another way – economically.  The artist sells paintings, the writer sells books, the corporate man turns the cog, and they all do it for money.  This does not mean they do not strive for recognition, fame, and/or personal satisfaction.  Those are very important too, but neither of them pays the bills.

In the end, success often becomes seen as a matter of work effort versus cash acquired. 

If you are thinking this away, you need to stop.

            Success is not solely a measure of financial gain.  But success isn’t just about fame, either.  It’s not about the multitude of people that read your work, the amount of money you rake in, or the number of autographs you sign or the newspapers you appear in.  Those are all worthwhile things to achieve, but the true means of success should be something that is judged against you.  Are YOU doing what YOU want to do with YOUR life?  And along the way, who are you impacting?  Is that change for the better?  The answer to all of the above questions would benefit you to be yes.  Yes, I’m living my life the way that brings joy to me.  I’m supporting myself, and maybe a family, and creating an impact that sustains and benefits other, through my actions or through my work.  I’m making a difference, even if it’s only to myself and those around me.

People fret about money throughout their entire life.  They work themselves to the bone over something that becomes little more use to them than a pillow when they die.  If not that, people fret that they’ll never become earth-movers and world-shakers.  Not everybody is meant to be one.  Influence is not measured in fame and money.  The smallest action can be nothing at all to six billion people and change the six billionth and one’s entire universe.  Miracles more often work in individuals than crowds. Influence and wealth are valuable things, but people can become swallowed in the pursuit of it, or overwhelmed when they feel they can’t produce enough.  Feelings of under appreciation soon follow, as they lose sight of what’s important in life.  Do you have a family?  Are you part of one?  What is your influence to them?  It’s surely not the same as appearing on national television, or winning the lottery, but what you do surely affects them.  It’s still important, and frankly, the influence you have on your family is some of the most important you can have.

Ultimately, people become trapped in the raindrop’s state of mind because they feel they lack something.  Be it recognition, money, glory, or satisfaction, the average worker becomes consumed in desperation to make his mark, to be different.  And along the way, they forget two things.

1)      Whatever you do for a living should bring enjoyment to you.  A life in servitude to something one detests is automatically a life of misery.

2)      Impact begins at home.  It is not a measure of publicity, but a measure of influence on those around you.  A local doctor in the late 1880’s certainly wasn’t world-renowned, but to the people in his town that he saved, he was a world-changer.  Don’t lose sight of that.  You mean more to the people around you than you think.  Influence is silent, but always felt.

            The raindrop doesn’t make much of a difference on a global scale.  People may not pay much for it individually, but it still exists for a reason.  Sometimes people forget the worth of a single raindrop. In the end, it’s not the size of the splash that makes a difference.  It’s the ripples felt afterwards that change the pond.

Life and Refraction in Physical Attraction

            Again and again, this world has told us that we are not enough, that we are not good looking or intelligent or talented enough. Somewhere along the line, we bought into those lies, and we pay for it every day. Today, we should try to sell a different story—to the girls who think they’re not perfect enough, to the guys who only want perfection, and yes, even to ourselves.

           

            These words come from a close friend of mine.  He’s speaking about society’s detrimental obsession with physical flawlessness.  Perfection, perfection, perfection.  Or so the story goes.

            The lens of perception change drastically based on physical appearance.  It’s true, and it’s not necessarily something that warrants guilt.  The mind works faster than we can detect.  Before the realization strikes of what you’ve done, your brain has compiled a database of information based on the snap judgment you’ve made in two seconds of observation.

            Thus, it’s almost fitting that we stroke our egos to the point of obsession when it comes to our corporal forms.  Or maybe it’s not even ego, but the extreme lack of it.  People are so afraid that they will go through great lengths to deceive the eye on physical evidence, rather than the more vital aspects of interior condition.

            The world has not been too accommodating in stalling this corrosive state of mind – in fact, it’s urging it on.  Turn on the TV, flip through the channels, and within minutes your retinas will be showered in the neon glow of several gorgeous (and often times scantily clad) women, thrusting themselves whichever way they need in order to manipulate your emotions into buying whatever they’re selling.  With metric tons of makeup, acute photoshop skills, and perfect lighting adjustments, anybody can take their place in the ensemble of perfectly primped models waiting to grab your attention.  Sex is the CEO of corporate American advertising, and she’s not likely to abdicate her throne any time soon.

            But the issue lies deeper than economical policies. People are always trying to sell something with their appearance – whether it’s a nice shampoo or the image of self-confidence, the way people present themselves is a statement about who they are and how they think.  The biker man with chains around his belt and teardrop tattoos?  He’s probably not aspiring to be a world class ballet dancer.  And the preppy kid with turtleneck sweaters and classy wristwatches likely won’t sing for the next AC/DC.  How people dress and look is an introductory statement about themselves.  “Hi, I’m Brennan, and this is or isn’t what I am…”

            People with even the most basic of social skills know the importance of a good first impression.  So many people – particular those of the fairer sex – have gone the extra mile or ten to enhance their first impressions.  The problem is, the issue has been taken overboard.

            Image has become an obsession in American culture.  Trends and fads come and go, but the overall objective, to look and feel perfect, is here to stay.  The reasons are fairly simple.  One of them is that looking good simply feels good.  And who wouldn’t want to feel good? 

While there’s absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to feel beautiful, the trappings of physical obsessions have perpetrated a pitfall.  There’s a competition factor involved, and it’s not possible to opt out of it.  To look good, people feel like they have to compete – and this especially applies for women.  The world is constantly bombarding them with the message that to feel hip, stylish, and beautiful, you have to be hip, stylish and beautiful.  And apparently, these things can only be acquired with a size 0 waistline, a nosejob, and some trendy clothing

            Sure, you can try not to compete if you want.  But unless you maintain absolute security in yourself, it’s easy for feelings of inadequacy, judgment, and comparison to creep in.  It’s hard enough to feel comfortable in our own skin.  Throw in the crushing weight of the world’s rebuttals, and it’s difficult to not take it with some strain.

            And so people change.  They take who they are and put on a disguise and an act in order to feel like they belong.  The radiance they naturally exude is refracted through their disguise.  Maybe the refraction doesn’t seem that bad to those on the outside, but the person on the inside is still hurt because they know, deep down inside, that this isn’t really them.  They aren’t getting the attention they so desperately seek.  It’s the disguise. The act. The tight shirt they wear. Or the persona they put on.  Inside, they’re still being tormented because they still don’t fit in.  It’s only the act that gets them through.

            Humanity is prone to the torrid emotions of pride, insecurity, lust, and rejection.  The proper image can build up stone walls that hide these demons from others, but it will never truly dispel them.  If we pretend we feel good, maybe, just maybe that will push the demons away for just a bit longer.  I don’t see any end in sight for this kind of strategy.  I think there’s a clear middle ground.  There’s no shame in the enhancement of attractiveness.  (Trust me. The guys don’t mind.)  But it becomes an unhealthy endeavor if focused on too much; instead of letting oneself sculpt his/her own looks, the way one allows themselves to look sculpts them.  It all goes back to two things: the feel-good industry, with their focus on self-building, and the wanting to fit in and escape from insecurity.  Image should be an enhancer.  But instead of judging in conjunction, we judge directly on it.  And that’s not how it needs to be.

Instead of covering up whatever demons you have, or drowning yourself in a caricature that tries to look good, try spilling some light on these things instead.  Acquire the courage to feel comfortable with yourself, no matter how you look.  There’s no sin in looking beautiful.  There’s no shame in being attractive.  And there’s certainly no wrong in searching for splendor.  But in the pursuit of these things, it can be easy task to lose ourselves in them.

            And as always, remember that outside appearances do little to reflect what’s on the inside, where true beauty lies.

The Fear of Rejection (Scaling Mt. Acceptance)

            Rejection is a hard pill to swallow.  And to the soul of a human being that craves attention and approval nearly as much as food, it's a hard lesson in life that everyone is set to experience at some point or another.

            There are different kinds of rejections.  I’m sure everybody wanted to be part of the cool crowd at some point.  If you didn’t, then you were probably already there.  The rest of us, though, had to put up with the constant feeling of inadequacy that comes with being tragically un-hip.  Sometimes if we’re lucky the cool crowd ends up liking something that is universally frowned upon two decades later.  So when I’m old, maybe I’ll have the pleasure of looking at pictures of you from back in the yesteryears when you dressed like a fool following silly cultural trends.  Maybe I’ll get lucky that way; maybe I won’t.

            But then there’s the personal rejection, when it’s not a crowd of people that collectively heap their dismissal on us, but just the one.  For some reason I haven’t yet figured out, that one person’s rebuff can be more painful than all the cool crowds in the world.  I think maybe it’s the more intimate nature of the situation.  It’s not a hive mind of people who adhere to a shrine of social and commercial trendiness that rejects you – it’s just that one person.  One person that rejects you and everything you are.  It sends us a message that we aren’t good enough.  That something’s wrong.  But many times, I don’t think that’s the reason at all.

When we feel ourselves coming under even the hint of attack or rejection, there are two common reactions, and they typically follow in this order: the knee-jerk defensive, which is to immediately throw up our guards at whatever slanderous attacks we observe (or make up) approaching our way.  We aren’t the problem; they are. And then there’s the pity-stop, which occurs when we halt our universe at the stroke of a negative word to sufficiently weep for our perceived inadequacies.  Oh, Woe is me!

            Defending is, among the two responses to criticism, often the first to appear.  Nobody likes to feel attacked, and so we curl up into a little ball to shut out the world.  Or worse: we go on the offensive and attempt to paint a target on our so-called assailants.  Rejection breeds contempt.  Contempt breeds anger.  Anger breeds revenge.  And in the end, everyone turns out miserable.  Sound like fun?  It’s not, but we still participate anyway.

            The pity-stop is probably the most common temperament in people.  It’s also the quietest.  So quiet, in fact, that we may not even know it’s there.  It sits deep inside a hollow part of our soul and ferments.  Everything we do, and everything we don’t do, becomes judged against this invisible standard that has been set beyond what we can obtain by an ever-growing pile of rejections.  What we wear, what we do, and what we are becomes a mold we change in order to fit an ever-changing caricature.  We all try to climb Mt. Acceptance.  The select few that do are champions, it seems.  Standing so close to the sun causes rays of celestial light to shine down and envelop the champions in luminescent, attractive beams.  The rest of us are stuck chilling at the bottom, cold, rather lonely, and dejected at our failure to reach the golden zenith, as well as at our new found inferiority to those at the peak.  We’d give anything to be the champions.  If just for one moment.  We’d like to experience that popularity, but when we don’t reach the top, we lapse into depression and dejection over the mental roadblock that we just aren’t good enough to be there.

            But you are good enough.  At least, to the eyes of those who matter.  It took me years to realize this, but there’s not much point in conforming to the cool crowd.  In certain extremes, yes, you do need to conform.  Walking without clothes on will provide you with little to no influence on society (and at most, scant news coverage).  But the years we spend trying to be cool are wasted.  The social status we work so hard to achieve is based on an image that dissipates the second someone finds a crack in it.  Why have we, as a people, turned each other into a society of smoke and mirrors?

            It is not only rejection, but the fear of rejection that holds us back in immeasurable ways.  Sometimes it’s the fear of being embarrassed.  The queasy thought that we’ll do something and be degraded for our stupidity.  Sometimes it’s an obsessive want for social acceptance.  Attention is everything.  Other times it’s conflicting emotions with the opposite gender.  Whatever the reason, when I’m in public, I always feel like I’m partially enclosed in a fence.  Certain areas of me want to step outside my invisible boundaries, but ta-ta, that could encompass the risk of committing one of the aforementioned activates (embarrassment, stupidity, nonconformity) which would make me *gasp* a social dissenter!

            Note that by the term “social dissenter” I am not referring to robbing a bank, committing murder, or a host of other things that our legal system frowns upon (as should you).  I’m talking about the pressure to conform to a certain set of values, activities, or false pretenses in an effort to achieve likability.  Those who are social dissenters do not fall for this pressure.  But unfortunately, most of us do.  It’s not that we don’t try. A lot of times we want to be “ourself”, but quickly decide that “ourself” isn’t quite earning us appropriate popularity or acceptance.  So we change ourself to meet the wants of others. 

            Yet I don’t want to live for the wants of others.  I want to live as who I am.  I want to be my own identity, not a caricature.  I don’t want to be cool.  I don’t want to be in the cool crowd.  I just want to be myself.       

            But sometimes people don’t want myself.  And in that case, when the sting of rejection comes to remind me of my failings, how do I handle it?

            Shrug it off.  Insofar that I can tell, that’s the only way to sufficiently cope.  It’s necessary to come to terms with the fact that, hey, we’re going to acquire some hate over our lifetime.  People will come and go, and several will find flaws and weaknesses in you and pick them out, many times out of the selfish need for an ego-boost.  But ignore the slings and arrows.  You are who you are.  There’s always room for improvement, but the measure for it should be weighed against your own standards, not someone else’s.

As far as changing who I am to fit the cool crowd, I don’t much care to live as a fake.  Nor do I have much patience for those that do.  I’m tired of climbing Mount Acceptance when all there is at the top is a congratulatory message saying:

“Congratulations!  Everyone now likes you for who you’re not."

            We’ll all experience the fear of rejection throughout our lives.  Fittingly enough, we’ll also experience rejection.  But in the end, I think it’s a good thing.  Surely there’s an importance for being liked for who you are.  But I find the issue of handling yourself with those who don’t all the more significant for personal growth.

        “To be, or not to be: that is the question:

        Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

        The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,

        Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,

        And by opposing end them?”

        --William Shakespeare, in Hamlet (Act III, Scene I)

The Indecisive Second Blog Post

            While the title is marginally self-descriptive in its own right, due to the ambiguity of its nature it will probably require a little background.  I’m under a bit of creative strain right now.  That is, I’m not sure what to post about next for my blog.  Call it writer’s block, call it lack of motivation (or inspiration, which sounds less lazy, but is equally troublesome), however my creative candle burns on both ends faster than a brush fire in Africa.  And while my ideas start off green and lush, by the time I’m done with them they seem like ash between my fingers. 

            You see, my blog is meant to serve as a hub for keeping my own thoughts written down.  I’m not particularly out to please anybody (though it is an enormous bonus to know that I have), for this webpage is a kind of window into my soul.  I hear the eyes are supposed to serve that purpose, but since you can’t see mine through a computer screen, I thought I’d save everyone the trip to my house and post my musings on the World Wide Web for all to see.

            But you can’t see until I post, and I can’t seem to post.  Strangely enough, it’s not that I can’t write; it’s that I don’t know what to put up.  I have about seven complete blog posts written up already.  That’s right.  Seven documents filled with transcribed cogitations whose luminescent glow envelops my computer screen every time I open their files.  I think its God trying to tell me something. 

Brennan.  Post something.  Write.  For the love of Me, just write already.

Also, stop confusing your brightness settings with my holy, luminescent glow.

            Most of my blogs, contrary to what I initially envisioned them to be, are rather reflective.  Rather than jump up on stage like a stand-up comedian, I’ve taken the nice, quite seat in the back corner of the room with a pencil, pen, and some hot cocoa.  There I ponder and scribble down little thoughts and musings that, while cathartic to me, might not mean anything to you.  That’s where I run into to trouble.  To share or not to share?  Do you really want to know?

            I also don’t know what to post yet because whatever I post begins to set a precedent for this blog.  As of now, it’s got two purposes: Insight and Humor.  But whenever I, the author and self-proclaimed virtual God of this fractional component of internet subspace, do not fully understand what this “Insight and humor” will pertain or encompass, what is to become?  When God doesn’t understand how the universe works, who does?

            I guess, in a sense, even though I’ve chosen to take the quiet corner seat in the back, life has stealthily grasped me in a vice grip and thrown me up on stage.  The stand-up was procuring rotten fruit, so for some reason I get to be the stand-in.  I don’t always feel like my thoughts are worth being read, but even if you find they aren’t, you can always choose to walk away; to like them or leave them.

            So from now on, while I can’t promise that this blog will be the fun-bag of entertainment that was the focus of my initial design, I can at least say that step by step I’ll start to construct this blog into something worth reading.  That’s why this blog exists; because it’s something worth reading.  If it’s not that, I guess it’s just a waste of space.  Nothing good ever came of yelling into a vacuum.

            P.S. The next blog post will be up quite soon.

Welcome To My Stage

Hi.

Welcome to my comfy abode.  The furniture isn’t fancy, and the wallpaper is a little bit 60’s, but here in the residence of my own blog is a place I call my e-home.  It’s the counterpart to my physical dwelling; the outlet to the inner sanctum of my mental establishment.  Here is where I give you my outlook on life’s quirks and purposes and here is where you’ll be able read what I have to say about them.

If you’ve followed me in any other medium (On Facebook or in public, the latter hopefully identifying more with the friendly nature of a good walk rather than the sinister tendencies of an obsessive stalker), you’re probably familiar with at least some of the things I have to say.  I like flowers, puppies, long walks on the beaches, and exploring the social, cultural, and spiritual aspects of the complex world that we live in and the people who inhabit it.

When I’m not philosophically pondering the greater questions of life or providing sage advice on difficult social and moral conditions, I’m generally poking fun at stuff.  Wait, reverse that.  I’m poking fun at stuff.  A lot.   But my wish is that I’ll still occasionally have something smart to say, and that perhaps more than occasionally you’ll lend me an ear to listen.

If you take anything away from this blog it’s hopefully:  A) Insight into a new facet of life you hadn’t pondered before or B) A beaming smile.  Maybe because I said something silly, which I like to do.  Or maybe because I said something stupid, which I do not much like to do. Hopefully you’ll be laughing with me and not at me, but if the latter arises before the former, I grant you full permission to open your lips and release a jovial hoot of amusement at the expense of my pride and dignity.  It’s fine. Like food poisoning, I’ll get over it. Eventually.

Thus, I hope that through this collection of organized writings, including the serious and the not-so-serious, you’ll come to find an appreciation for something greater than what you intended.  A seed that’s been planted, water for one that was already there, or maybe just a smile that wasn’t present before.  Whatever it is, I hope it keeps you coming back for more.  Because I like attention.  But more importantly, I want you to think. I want you to laugh.  I want you to cry.  I want you to smile.  It you’ve done that, then I guess it means somewhere I did my job right.

Though the contents of my posts will be mixed with stories and laced with occasional sarcasm, I also want to challenge you intellectually.  Don’t worry - I’m not saddling up on my high horse here.  But this location is just as equally a place for me to pour out my spirit as it is for me to amuse you.  This will be a place of opinion.  This will be a place for ideas and thoughts.  Be forewarned – if you are one of the 95% of people who would rather die than think, this probably isn’t the place for you.

So here’s to the first entry in what will hopefully be a long-running journey through the crevices of my mind.  It might get a little scary, and it will almost definitely get a little weird.  But stick around for the voyage, and maybe we’ll find something worth exploring in the end. 

Congratulations and Christian side-hugs all around (don't get too comfy, we've only just met)

~Grey