Monthly Archives: June 2015

YOU GUYS YOU GUYS YOU GUYS (You Must Listen to the Serial Dater Podcast)

Every so often, I will Google “best podcasts [of 2015]” and see what comes up. My latest foray into finding new podcasts took me to to an article about podcasts she recommends. I’ve learned that there are always gems in the comments as well, so I read through most of them. This one caught my eye:


My friend Charlie – recent creative writing MFA grad and soon-to-be fullbright scholar in the UK has a hilarious podcast called serial dater that he sort of started on a whim but is really cute and funny (and you can feel good about yourself by supporting an up-and-coming NY-based writer while listening!)

KM had me at “My friend Charlie.” Then he/she added hilarious, on a whim, cute, funny, feel good about yourself. Sounded great to me, so I downloaded all six episodes, departing from my normal policy of downloading a max of two episodes to figure out if I like it before I truly commit. I love listening to podcasts, and I have one on whenever I am in the car by myself. As I sped to and from Chicago over the past 36 hours, (U2 concert. Read about it here.) I took advantage of my 10 hours in the car to try out some new podcasts.

Charlie Beckerman is a talented writer who has an MFA from Florida State University. Serial Dater is about a series of 5 first dates Charlie had with quite a variety of guys in a single week shortly before he left New York to begin his MFA. Each episode is a humorous look at one of the dates. The final episode — well, I won’t say anything about that, because I didn’t see it coming, and I want you to be surprised.

One thing that bugs me about some podcasts is the poor sound quality, but this does NOT apply to Serial Dater. From the music to the voices to the transitions, this is one of the best produced podcasts I have listened to. Music is by Prom Date. You can hear one of their songs here! (genre: synthpop).

Charlie wrote these stories in a writer’s workshop he did during his MFA application process.  A couple years later, he took it a step further by creating the podcast and dramatizing parts of the story. Wait until you hear the voice(s) of his dates. I just loved it.

(A little caveat here:   I have no idea what percentage of LGBTQ folks would be accepting of my halting attempts to understand, to empathize, and to work through old beliefs and ideas in order to make room for a new understanding, but I am trying and I’ve come a long way, baby.)

Serial Dater is an excellent podcast to add to your listening, or to take the first step into listening to podcasts. The entire series is 6 episodes; the first five hover around the 30 minute mark, which is a good length for listening; and you will love it.

Besides the excellence of the writing in the podcast and the overall quality of the production, what I loved about this podcast is it gave me a glimpse into the heart and mind of a gay man, and I ended up much closer to what Bono said at the end of the concert. “There is no them; there is only us.” I felt a solidarity and connection with this man, Charlie Beckerman, and I am so grateful for that.

Where the Streets Have No Name; U2, Chicago, 6/28/2015

The year was 1986. I had yet to shed even the first bit of fear and shame which had been instilled early in my life. I was taking a class in the theater department from a beloved prof who was challenging some of my dearly-held beliefs.

As part of the experience of my learnings, Greg and I lined up at 6am outside the then Rosemont Horizon to buy tickets for the U2 concert which would be in a few weeks. This was a huge deal for me. I hadn’t gone too many concerts (fear! shame!) outside the Christian contemporary genre, so this was  pretty far outside my comfort zone. (Imagine that, kiddies. We went to the actual venue to buy our tickets and we paid the face value of the ticket. No TicketMaster fees! No printing at home! No scanning anything! No cell phones then!)

U2’s venues back then were rather smaller and the extravaganzas that happened in later tours had not yet begun. On a simple stage, unadorned beyond lights and some smoke, with the Horizon’s lights completely extinguished on April 29, 1987, the concert began with those unforgettable organ chords of “Where the Streets Have No Name.”

Greg had introduced me to the band soon after we meet in 1982. I wasn’t too sure about that “Sunday, Bloody Sunday” song, which, if I’m remembering right, was their first big hit. (Blood! Fear! Shame!) But I did love the Joshua Tree album, and it was the first leg of the Joshua Tree tour in April, 1987 when we first saw them.

Last night, at a different Chicago venue, was my 7th time to see them; this time during the iNNOCENCE + eXPERIENCE tour.

IMG_2657a cool pic of Edge I took accidentally

U2 are quite the band, having stuck together for over 30 years as mates, partners, and band members. In this day and age, I think that is a major accomplishment. Major. Besides staying friends and partners for all these years, each of them also has a long-term marriage, with Bono having married Ali while they were still in their teens. Ali was in the house last night, and he sang a couple of songs dedicated to her, (Song for Someone), and All I Want is You). Also major.

My ears are still ringing. There were three locations where the band sang, with the main stage to our left.

Valerie and I were standing along the rail between the i and the e stages. We could see the band great when they were on the walkway between stages, and we could see them pretty well on the e stage, but we were pretty far back from the i stage. When I turned my head to see them on the main stage, the sound pierced my right ear, so I had to actually cover my ears for parts of it! I don’t think it was any louder than a normal concert, but something about the location of the sound and the condition of my fine ears combined to make the sound too loud.

Fortunately, they also performed directly in front of me, and on the stage to the right. My ears did much better when they were in those locations.

If you’re not a U2 fan, I’ll just tell you that there are many people, including myself, who have been following the band for 30 years. The guy behind us in line had multiple U2 tattoos and was jubilant as he explained how he had gotten Bono’s attention by quoting the full text of the partial quote he had on the underside of his bicep. Maybe it’s like this with other bands — I don’t know — but the people who love U2 loooooooove U2.

I found the setlist online at

Main Set

  1. The Miracle (Of Joey Ramone)
  2. GloriaGloria (Van Morrison) (snippet)
  3. Vertigo
  4. I Will Follow
  5. Iris (Hold Me Close)
  6. Cedarwood Road
  7. Song For Someone
  8. Sunday Bloody SundayWhen Johnny Comes Marching Home (snippet)
  9. Raised By Wolves
  10. Until The End Of The WorldShe’s A Rainbow (snippet)

Second Set

  1. Invisible
  2. Even Better Than The Real Thing
  3. Mysterious WaysYoung Americans (snippet)
  4. DesireLa Bamba (snippet), Julia (snippet)
  5. Lucifer’s Hands
  6. Every Breaking Wave
  7. Bullet The Blue Sky19 (snippet)
  8. The Hands That Built America (snippet), Pride
  9. Beautiful DayTwo Hearts Beat As One (snippet)
  10. All I Want Is You
  11. With Or Without YouLove Will Tear Us Apart (snippet)


  1. City Of Blinding Lights
  2. Mother And Child Reunion (snippet), Where The Streets Have No NameCalifornia (There Is No End To Love) (snippet)
  3. OneInvisible (snippet)

I noted that the second to last encore last night was the very first song I’d ever heard them play in concert, “Where the Streets Have No Name.” Last night, when those opening chords began, the crowd roared with a deeply felt love of not only the song, but also memories associated with that song, the band, the individual players, their musicianship, the influence they have used for the good. For me, it kinda felt like a complete circle.

The final encore was their brilliant song, One, which just felt like the dot on the i, the cross of the t, the last (final?) flourish on my U2 concert experiences. With the 360 tour (2009-2010), after one taste, I HAD to go again and ended up going to four different locations on that tour. I suppose it’s possible they will do more tours after this one, but it has got to be hard on their families to be apart for so long and they’ve been doing it for a long time. Last night may have been my last U2 concert. I don’t know. We’ll see. But I’ll always love them.

Eli Writes

As I write this blog post my mother is out of town in Chicago seeing her all time favorite band, U2, with my sister Valerie. She absolutely loves U2 and Bono especially, which I can relate to. When I was around 15, I was unquestionably devoted to a band called Bring Me The Horizon. If you’re over 20, I’m going to assume you don’t know who this band is. They’re actually very popular. They hail from Sheffield, Yorkshire, and the music they play, according to wikipedia at least, is called metalcore. To the layperson or ignorant soccer mom, this is almost 100% of the time referred to as screamo. I always thought it was more than that, though, which is why I listened to it. It extremely accurately reflected my internal struggle and agony when I was a (younger) teenager, and the fact that the band employs extensive use of screaming is what really did it for me. I think this is common for many kids who listen to the type of music – if you take a second to delve deeper past the wall of noise and listen to the lyrics, and listen to how the lyrics are delivered, it starts to make sense. At least, it made sense to me. These were people who were sick. Sick of society, sick of expectations, sick of living the way they were. Well, so was I.

Though it seemed melodramatic when I looked at it objectively, the singer and the rest of Bring Me The Horizon fantastically expressed what I myself was too afraid to express. And that’s why I was so drawn to them. I loved the use of profanity, the chugging guitar riffs, the screaming that filled my ears until I was sure that the singer’s throat bled. It filled my need to scream until my throat bled with the injustice of the world, but it was a safe place. I think my mom has a similar experience with U2. I’ve never really cared for U2 – they aren’t nearly intense enough for me – but I can tell that the music makes her feel alive, and I think that a lot of artists make music to either make themselves or others feel alive. So obviously U2 is succeeding. I’m just happy my mother found a band that makes music that inspires her, gets her on her feet, and makes her feel alive. I know the feeling of longing to feel alive, to know that someone else feels the way you do, and I think it’s filled for everyone in different ways, but I’m delighted that so many people are able to find solace in music.

When I was 16, my favorite lyrics came from a band called Whitechapel that makes music one can only describe as violent. Without having to look them up, three years later I still remember them. “We are the disease that spreads amongst this filthy race. Coprophagia is the only solution. Open your fucking mouth and ingest what you are.” I also loved a song by Chelsea Smile, a band that takes their name from a torture method that gave The Joker his notoriety, called Recreant. “You are dead to me.” Simple as that.

Seems like everything in my life until now is linked to why me, an extremely intelligent, suburban white kid, who came from a home devoid of alcoholism or sexual abuse or whatever else you expect to go along with drug use; started using heroin. Heroin, the drug that held a stigma so powerful friends would immediately pull away, rumors would circulate, relationships would crumble. It’s simple, when I look back at it. I couldn’t fucking stand it. I couldn’t fucking stand living in the world I viewed as filthy, cancerous, repugnant. My only way to fight back was to either recreate Columbine or lose myself in a numbing agent so powerful it would take over my entire life. Whether that statement is true or not, that’s certainly how I felt and that’s what ended up happening. I guess my stereotypical adolescent angst just went a little further than most people’s. I’ve always felt stuff so strongly, and it was a mistake for others to say “it’s just part of growing up.” Is it really? Is that why I plunge razor blades into my flesh and watch the dark red blood seep out with a twisted satisfaction? Is that why I can’t go to school without being on three different drugs at the same time? Is that why I look around every morning in school and feel permanently cut off, imprisoned in my sphere of detached reality?

I couldn’t stand it and music helped me express that which I was too confused and too tormented to express. I think music saved my life, really. It didn’t stop me from falling into drug addiction, but it saved my life. I knew that somebody, somewhere, in this world I thought so fucking filthy felt the same way I did. That was enough to keep me going.

I still listen to this type of music, sometimes. Not very often, but sometimes. I really do hope one day I can listen to Pink Floyd and U2 and be satisfied with that, because it seems to be a much happier way to live. My mother is so excited! She’s so excited to drive to Chicago and see Bono sing his songs and be close to him. Sounds inspiring, doesn’t it? I bet she doesn’t look at Bono and think life isn’t worth living. She probably reminds herself life is worth living when the music is roaring in her ears and she’s jumping up and down, ecstatic to see her favorite artist. That’s the message he seems to spread, after all. Shame it seems so hard for me to get out of my nihilistic music tastes, but I do hope one day I’ll be able to graduate to normal people music. There’s still passion in normality. I just need to remember that. Sincere apologizes for the morbid post, this is just where I am most of the time.
I’ll leave you with some lyrics that reflect how I’m feeling at the moment.
Logic (Buried Alive)
Yeah, I know
Imma take my time
Battle the image inside of my mind
I know, Imma keep going
Tell me I can’t but I’m already knowing
I know, I’m gonna rise
Even though I’ve been buried alive


That’s the hashtag that’s been all over Twitter today in celebration of the SCOTUS ruling on marriage equality. 

I have friends who are strongly in favor of the ruling, and I also have friends who believe the Bible speaks against homosexuality.

I offer congratulations to all the lovely LBGTQ people who have longed for the opportunity to make their love legally recognized in a state-sanctioned marriage.

For love to truly win, wouldn’t it be the case that we would respect each other points of view, even if they do not agree with ours? Christians and religious people would be welcoming and loving to people of every persuasion. And people of every persuasion would be welcoming and loving to people who believe differently than they do.

There was a day when I thought gay sex was wrong. I was never of the persuasion that being gay was wrong. I just thought since gay people couldn’t get married, they shouldn’t have sex. Very simplistic, I know. I was doing the best I could with the information and maturity I had at the time.

Are there any limits to what is acceptable anymore? I’ve read articles recently and seen tv shows and movies that demand that every iteration of sexuality and sexual expression is accepted. 

One thing I notice in such articles and shows is that there seems to be a hell of a lot of brokenness and pain and chaos that go along with some of the iterations.

I was watching a show tonight where a woman who had a lesbian relationship in college ran into her lover a few years later. Both were married to other people now. The romance was rekindled and the woman decided the only thing she could do was leave her husband. 

What I think I see in our culture is a widespread acceptance of actions like this woman took. But my question is, are our feelings the most important things in the universe? How does it happen that people can just walk away from a marriage? What is happening that there is such a disdain for staying together? 

I can’t speak with any authority at all to what it’s like to be attracted to the same sex, or to both sexes. So I’d never suggest that those attractions shouldn’t happen. I simply value the rewards that come from working through the tough stuff. 

Just my thoughts tonight. For love to win, we’re all going to have to be a whole lot more accepting. 

Book Review – Down Solo

I was recently asked to write a book review for an unknown book. A website I contribute to (, just recently launched, will have book reviews as part of its content.

I have an account on Goodreads, but I typically do not write reviews about the books I read. I feel like there are already so many reviews out there which lay out the plot and characters that mine is just adding to the noise. Therefore, this is a little bit of a departure for me, although I trust it will give a good sense of the book.

And now, without further ado, a book review of Earl Javorsky’s debut novel, Down Solo.

Down Solo, Earl Javorsky’s debut novel, is a rollercoaster ride where the ride begins at the top of the first giant hill, with no slow ascent to prepare us.

Charlie Miner is a private investigator/junkie who is in the middle of a case involving a briefcase, gold, kidnapping, arson, lots of gunplay, dynamite, a gorgeous woman, tweakers, marital unfaithfulness, a “Christian” with a scheme, and fraud.

Oh, and he is dead. The story opens with him waking up in the morgue, somehow able to reanimate his dead body. Not only that, but his spirit can leave his body to roam around in places where his corporeal being can’t go. This comes in handy in multiple settings.

It’s zero to sixty from the get-go and the action is non-stop. Charlie’s reanimated body still desires his beloved heroin, but isn’t able to feel any effects from the hit he gets soon after tracking down his former dealer. Being dead among the living presents him with several challenges and often renders him unresponsive as he disappears into the memories of events that happened prior to his death.

By the time Charlie had found some clothing for his dead body and left the morgue, the frequent similes made it clear that the simile is one of his favorite literary devices.

“… like a bee in a bottle.”

“light as a whisper, fast as a thought”

“like wearing a gorilla suit”

“like a bag of snakes”

“a tall domino of an apartment building”

“like a mescaline-induced cubist totem pole.”

I was a little surprised at the number of people who were killed in the book, and moreso by the fact that he killed them, but one of the conditions of being reanimated was to be sure not to kill anyone innocent, which did stay his hand at least one time.

At the point where I read “I hurl myself upstream and stroke across and am conveniently swept by the current onto the rock shelf,” I realized that there were quite a few happenings in the story that were a little too convenient. But, sometimes you just have to let art flow over you without getting too hung up about the story asking its reader to suspend disbelief.

By the time Charlie got to tracking down the crazy that had kidnapped his daughter in Mexico, Javorsky’s love of lists and detail was starting to get slightly cumbersome. Just about the time I was starting to think the detail was going to overwhelm me, I realized that there was an entire deeper meaning to his story. He had a second chance; an opportunity to come back from death, and attend to his unfinished business. As a matter of fact, he was able to heal himself from being dead, and actually came back to life. I think Javorsky is explaining his philosophy on drug addiction here. Only the addict can heal himself and bring himself back to life. “…healing is my birthright, that the healed state is my natural inheritance, that atonement is the only prerequisite to claiming it.”

Down Solo is an enjoyable book, hard to put down, easy to escape into. The font and margins are pleasing to the eye, and the book is well-edited. All in all, Javorsky’s novel is a solid entry into the world of suspense with a side of supernatural.


Been sick for a couple of days. Makes it harder to post anything worthwhile. 

So, here are a few of my thoughts this evening.

Thrilled with Kepler’s swim lessons this week at Bear Paddle. I also checked in with his other swim lesson provider. They had a cancellation for the next session, so we will resume weekly lessons there. We have another week at Bear Paddle, and then we’ll decide what to do next.

Said goodbye to my bestie, Ranee, this morning as she begins a new chapter in another city. It was really hard to say goodbye. She’s been there through thick and thin for years. I’m happy for her, as this step is the culmination of a dream for her. I’m proud of how hard she has worked to get where she is.

Still trying to figure out the details surrounding seeing U2 in Chicago this weekend. I think it’s going to work out ok.

Had a lovely talk with kids 3&4, and husband today. That hasn’t happened in awhile. Was very, very nice.

I’ve discovered there is an entire Twitter-verse of addicts in recovery and it looks like a cool place to be. 

Got to release a task that I’ve been doing for over a year — poorly. I’m so glad it is going to be handled by a professional from now on. 

Somehow I finally was able to kiss carbs goodbye. It’s never been permanent in the past, so I’m being realistic and just acknowledging that I finally found a way to make a change this week. I’ll just take it a day at a time. 

Repost from October, 2010: The Problem of Susan

I found this post on my old blog and thought it was interesting in light of where I’m at these days. 

Not long ago, someone I love declared him/herself an atheist, after presumably having been a Christian from the get-go. This got me to thinking about the problems this person has with organized religion, which I’ve noticed is often interchangeable with all forms of Christianity, and is generally held in very low esteem.

This person’s declaration brought back to mind doubts I have had over the long haul, not so much whether or not God exists, but how involved He actually is in our lives. One of the big problems people have with God is the idea that there is some meaning behind pain, especially pain visited on seemingly undeserving people, and especially children. 

I was playing with my ipad the other night and I was searching for CS Lewis’ The Problem of Pain. You can see my search results above. The Problem of Susan? I wondered what that could mean and discovered it refers to the fact that Susan Pevensie (of the Chronicles of Narnia) did not go to Narnia with her brothers and sister. I remember when Greg was reading these books aloud to the kids — I had never read the Chronicles before — and I loved the story and was terribly dismayed that the Susan character didn’t get to be with Aslan. I was seriously bummed. OK, so there’s no connection between Susan Pevensie and me, but I felt disappointed that she didn’t get to go to Narnia. Why would she have been excluded? 

The Problem of Susan is an essay written by someone who is trying to explain what may have happened to Susan after the train crashed and her family was killed. I haven’t read the essay and don’t know that I need to. It’s not really important what the author thought happened to Susan afterward. I thought it was more important to note the reason she didn’t go to Narnia — she no longer believed, and acted as though it had all been a dream or a fantasy. But when she and Peter were king and queen of Narnia, Aslan said “Once a king in Narnia, always a king in Narnia.” Apparently in the film adaptation, they added the words “or queen,” and I’m ok with believing that Lewis meant king OR queen. 

No one knows what would have happened to Susan after her family was killed. No one knows what choices she would have made the rest of her life, and no one can presume to know. But let’s say she still had a life to live, that she lived it, and that she had to make a choice at some point (a la The Great Divorce) whether or not to spend eternity with God. I love the idea that she had more of a life to live, experiencing the love and pursuit of God. 

I’m not a deep thinker. I can’t make connections across disciplines and quote song lyrics and books to demonstrate whatever salient point I am trying to make. But I do understand that relationships are fluid, and that love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. So, Aslan didn’t force Susan to come to Narnia when she had stepped into disbelief, but I think neither did he write her off, and that if the story had continued, there would have been ample evidence of his continued love for her.

I think I’m kind of like Susan in that way. When I experience God in a relational manner, it’s easy to understand He exists and cares for me. When I stand aside and judge His motives, it’s hard to understand that He could be anything other than evil. I think Aslan would be glad to have me as a queen in Narnia, but he wouldn’t force me. That seems to be a central truth of Christianity — God loves us, and He loved us before the foundation of the world. Atheists, feel free to ask me hard questions about what I’m saying, but I’m not sure I’ll have any answers that would be considered evidence in a court of law. As a matter of fact, I may even believe some unbiblical things — for instance, I believe deeply that each person will get a choice after they die whether or not they want to live with God forever. It won’t be a trick questions. There won’t be anything other than an honest option offered, but I think there will be people who choose NOT to spend eternity with God because of all the choices they made throughout life to turn away from him. They will have convinced themselves that they’d be better off without God. I think CS Lewis’ book The Great Divorce influenced my thinking here. I can’t quote chapter and verse that says this, and some of my readers may be able to quote chapter and verse that says the opposite of this. 

And there you have today’s thoughts. Wish they could be more decisive! strong! clear! But they are what they are. Thanks for reading!

Breaking News! I Cooked a Meal

Not only did I cook, but I just made it up as I went along. We are members of a CSA and today was pickup day. With all that fresh stuff, I was totally inspired to cook something.

We also get meat and eggs from our CSA, and today I picked up a pound of sausage. To that pound of sausage, I added a lovely, large green onion, half a summer squash, a good bit of red cabbage, some fresh sugar snap peas, some garlic, sesame seeds and a splash of tahini.

So yum. And guilt-free.

Water, Water, Everywhere and Not a Drop to Drink

That’s a misquote of Samuel Coleridge from The Ancient Mariner, but it’s the way I’ve always heard it, so I hope you will read on, and not slam your computer closed in disgust because I misquoted one of the greats.

I carry a Nalgene bottle with me pretty much everywhere. The two cars we have are not equipped with drink holders which will accommodate a Nalgene. I have tried stashing the bottle on the driver’s side floor to the left of my left leg, tucking it beside me between me and the door, putting it in the catch-all compartment between the seats (the top won’t close, though), putting it on the passenger side floor (of course it falls over and rolls out of reach), and just standing it up on the top of the drink holders. Nothing works. So, my beloved Nalgene bottles have started to seem like a burden, although I am very used to and quite prefer to be drinking water all day long.

This morning I took Kepler to the first of four swim lessons this week. I made a nice little video to show my many readers, but WordPress will not allow me to upload an mp4 file. Apparently, YouTube videos are no problem, but homemade videos don’t work without some serious tweaking. Please hold while I upload it to YouTube and then embed it here.

I’ve decided today that I’d like a handsfree drinking system to carry around all the time. The Nalgene bottles just get the heck in the way of everything! Any recommendations? The sad thing today is that my favorite red Nalgene slipped out of my hand at the swim school, and completely broke into two parts. Did I drop it on purpose? I don’t think so, but I do know that my immediate reaction was a feeling of relief. Always carrying around that bottle when I am also keeping track of Kepler, carrying bags of library books or groceries, carrying my phone, dealing with all the little foibles of Kepler — doesn’t want to put on his crocs if they are wet, so I carry them around and watch that he doesn’t slip, etc. Always carrying it around makes each task I do just that much harder.

I think sometimes I just move so fast that I don’t really stop to think about how I might solve the problem. But I really don’t want to carry these quart size Nalgenes around anymore. Ideally, I would have about four of them filled at home and place them at strategic points around the house so that I have one to drink without having to keep track of one. Ideally, I would have two that fit in my cup holders in the car and take those two in the car, but not into the establishments I frequent like the library. I think it’s a habit that needs adjusting.

Eli Writes — Sunday Guest Post

It is so so so difficult for me to drum up extra motivation, or really any motivation at all, for any task which requires the least amount of effort. Actually, that’s not entirely true. When I worked at Best Buy I was energized most of the time. I really loved my job. Only problem was I essentially crawled into a grave and shut myself out from the world if I didn’t have at least 400 mgs of caffeine that day. I hate being dependent on substances but it kind of snuck up on me as soon as I realized substances can magically change your mood. Imagine me, as an 11 year old, or close to it, and wretchedly depressed. What does 11 year old me do? Well 11 year old me doesn’t know what to do, nor, indeed, how to do it, so 11 year old me waits and grits his teeth and survives. He hunkers down like he’s in a bunker getting bombed by the Nazis during the second World War and teeters on the edge of despair, saved only by his mother, until he grows up to be 16 and realizes how much better he feels when he doesn’t feel like himself.
I woke up today and cleaned up my girlfriend’s apartment, even though I so did not feel like it. It took me literally 3 hours because the place was an absolute trainwreck, which, predictably, I am mostly responsible for. I didn’t feel like doing anything today. I still don’t really. It’s an effort just to write this blog post. I think sometimes when I’m writing I self-reflect obsessively and conclude nothing else besides “dude, nobody gives a fuck about any of this.” And I have to admit, the reason I think that is because that’s how I view most of the world. If I don’t know you, I probably won’t read something you’ve written about your life. That’s not to say it’s not interesting, it’s that my life is such a fucked up struggle that it takes up enough of my time and energy and I don’t have a lot of room for anything else.
I’ve stumbled upon an interesting idea recently about the difference between Today Me and Tomorrow Me. It’s certainly not from me – credit to someone on the internet – but I wholly related to it. The philosophy is, basically, that Today Me has a whole lot of potential, but rarely lives up to it, instead shunting that responsibility onto Tomorrow Me. But then tomorrow comes, and I’m still Today Me. Tomorrow Me is an awfully tempting carrot dangling in front of me, and it sometimes even inspires me or makes me feel like I’m really doing something. When I’m not doing ANYTHING! Imagine that! So, what I took away from this infinite cycle is that I tend to be Today Me. I tend to say, “I’ll get my finances under control next paycheck.” Like, I’m chronic with it. And lo and behold, I’m generally fairly dissatisfied with my life. I do have passions, but I tend to not pursue them – I’ll do that tomorrow.
As of right now, I have got to do SOMETHING, though. So I’m going to go to a meeting later on tonight and see if anyone needs a ride. I’ve done this before, albeit only a couple of times, and it feels great. As paltry as it is, they’re always so grateful and getting outside myself is one of the only ways I’ve found to cheer up when I’m depressed. It’s the same reason I ended up liking volunteering once I actually forced myself to do it. I’m helping others! Maybe I can make other people as happy as I’d like to be.
Happiness is really elusive to me. But my latest project is trying to make Tomorrow Me, be Today Me. I know people who do that, and they seem so content. I’d like that. I want that. So, today at least, I’m going to go do something that I was going to do tomorrow. I suggest everyone who reads this pick one thing they were putting off until later this week or even tomorrow and go out and do it. Right. Fucking. Now. Stop making Today Me be a procrastination-addicted little bitch. I’m sick of it and I’m sure you are too. Get your Tomorrow Me to come alive right this second!